Produced by Ed Ferris
[Frontispiece: v1.jpg]
SENATOR GEORGE F. HOAR
From a photograph taken in 1897
_Copyright, 1897, by H. Schervee, Worcester, Mass._
[Title page]
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF SEVENTY YEARS
BY
GEORGE F. HOAR
WITH PORTRAITS
VOLUME I.
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1903
[Dedication]
TO
MY WIFE AND CHILDREN
THIS RECORD OF A LIFE WHICH
THEY HAVE MADE HAPPY
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
[Table of Contents]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
CHAPTER II
ROGER SHERMAN AND HIS FAMILY
CHAPTER III
SAMUEL HOAR
CHAPTER IV
BOYHOOD IN CONCORD
CHAPTER V
FAMOUS CONCORD MEN
CHAPTER VI
FARM AND SCHOOL
CHAPTER VII
HARVARD SIXTY YEARS AGO
CHAPTER VIII
1849 TO 1850--FOUNDATION OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY--
DANIEL WEBSTER
CHAPTER IX
LIFE IN WORCESTER
CHAPTER X
POLITICAL HISTORY OF MASSACHUSETTS FROM 1848 TO 1869
CHAPTER XI
THE KNOW NOTHING PARTY AND ITS OVERTHROW
CHAPTER XII
ELECTION TO CONGRESS
CHAPTER XIII
SUMNER AND WILSON
CHAPTER XIV
PERSONALITIES IN DEBATE
CHAPTER XV
THE NATIONAL HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES IN 1869
CHAPTER XVI
POLITICAL CONDITION IN 1869
CHAPTER XVII
RECONSTRUCTION
CHAPTER XVIII
COMMITTEE SERVICE IN THE HOUSE
CHAPTER XIX
SALMON P. CHASE
CHAPTER XX
ADIN THAYER
CHAPTER XXI
POLITICAL CORRUPTION
CHAPTER XXII
CREDIT MOBILIER
CHAPTER XXIII
THE SANBORN CONTRACTS
CHAPTER XXIV
BENJAMIN F. BUTLER
CHAPTER XXV
BELKNAP IMPEACHMENT
CHAPTER XXVI
ELECTORAL COMMISSION
CHAPTER XXVII
FOUR NATIONAL CONVENTIONS, 1876
CHAPTER XXVIII
FOUR NATIONAL CONVENTIONS, 1880
CHAPTER XXIX
FOUR NATIONAL CONVENTIONS, 1884
CHAPTER XXX
FOUR NATIONAL CONVENTIONS, 1888
CHAPTER XXXI
SATURDAY CLUB
CHAPTER XXXII
THE WORCESTER FIRE SOCIETY
APPENDIX I.
APPENDIX II.
[Text]
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SEVENTY YEARS
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
Everybody who reads this book through will wonder that a man
who ought to be able to tell so much has really told so little.
I have known personally and quite intimately, or have known
intelligent and trustworthy persons who have known personally
and quite intimately, many men who have had a great share
in the history of this country and in its literature for a
hundred and thirty years.
In my younger days there were among my kindred and near friends
persons who knew the great actors of the Revolutionary time
and the time which followed till I came to manhood myself.
But I did not know enough to ask questions. If I had, and
had recorded the answers, I could write a very large part
of the political and literary history of the United States.
I never kept a diary, except for a few and brief periods.
So for what I have to say, I must trust to my memory. I have
no doubt that after these volumes are published, there will
come up in my mind matter enough to make a dozen better ones.
I invoke for this book that kindly judgment of my countrymen
which has attended everything I have done in my life so far.
I have tried to guard against the dangers and the besetting
infirmities of men who write their own biography. An autobiography,
as the word implies, will be egotistical. An old man's autobiography
is pretty certain to be garrulous. If the writer set forth
therein his own ideals, he is likely to be judged by them,
even when he may fall far short of them. Men are likely to
think that he claims or pretends to have lived up to them,
however painfully conscious he may be that they are only dreams
which even if he have done his best have had little reality
for him.
There is another danger for a man who tells the story of
great transactions, in which he has taken part, whether legislative,
executive, military, or political, or any other, in which
the combined action of many persons was required for the result.
He is apt to claim, consciously or unconsciously, that he
himself brought the whole thing about.
"Papa," said the little boy to the veteran of the Civil War,
"Did anybody help you to put down the Rebellion?"
This peril specially besets narrators in their old age. I
am afraid I can hardly escape it.
I once heard General George H. Thomas relate to a brilliant
company at a supper party, among whom were Chief Justice Chase,
General Eaton, Commissary General in two wars, Senator Trumbull,
William M. Evarts, Joseph Henry, John Sherman, his brother
the General, and several other gentlemen of equal distinction,
the story of the battles of Nashville and Franklin. The story
was full of dramatic interest. Yet no one who heard it would
have known that the speaker himself had taken part in the
great achievement, until, just at the end, he said of the
Battle of Nashville that he thought of sending a detachment
to cut off Hood's army at a ford by which he escaped after
they were defeated, but he concluded that it was not safe
to spare that force from immediate use in the battle. "If
I had done it," he added, with great simplicity, "I should
have captured his whole army. There is where I made my mistake."
The recollections of the actors in important political transactions
are doubtless of great historic value. But I ought to say
frankly that my experience has taught me that the memory of
men, even of good and true men, as to matters in which they
have been personal actors, is frequently most dangerous and
misleading. I could recount many curious stories which have
been told me by friends who have been writers of history and
biography, of the contradictory statements they have received
from the best men in regard to scenes in which they have been
present.
If any critic think this book lacking in dignity, or wisdom,
or modesty, it is hoped that it may, by way of offset, make
up for it in sincerity. I have so far lived in the world
without secrets. If my countrymen, or the people of Massachusetts,
have trusted me, they have fully known what they were doing.
"They had eyes and chose me."
I have never lifted any finger or spoken a word to any man
to secure or to promote my own election to any office. I
do not mean to criticise other men who advance their honorable
ambition for public service or exert themselves to get office
for which they think themselves fit. It was the "high Roman
fashion." It has been the fashion in England always. English
gentlemen do not disdain a personal solicitation for political
support, and think no harm in it, to which no American gentleman
would for a moment stoop.
It has been the custom in other parts of the country almost
from the beginning of the Government. But what I think a
better custom has prevailed in Massachusetts. I arrogate
to myself no virtue in this respect. I only say that it has
been my supreme good fortune to be the son of a Commonwealth
among whose noble and high-minded people a better and more
fastidious habit has prevailed.
The lesson which I have learned in life, which is impressed
on me daily, and more deeply as I grow old, is the lesson
of Good Will and Good Hope. I believe that to-day is better
than yesterday, and that to-morrow will be better than to-
day. I believe that in spite of so many errors and wrongs
and even crimes, my countrymen of all classes desire what
is good, and not what is evil. I repeat what I said to the
State Convention of Massachusetts after the death of President
McKinley:
"When I first came to manhood and began to take part in public
affairs, that greatest of crimes, human slavery, was entrenched
everywhere in power in this Republic. Congress and Supreme
Court, Commerce and Trade and Social Life alike submitted
to its imperious and arrogant sway. Mr. Webster declared
that there was no North, and that the South went clear up
to the Canada line. The hope of many wise and conservative
and, as I now believe, patriotic men, of saving this country
from being rent into fragments was in leaving to slavery forever
the great territory between the Mississippi and the Pacific,
in the Fugitive Slave Law, a law under which freemen were
taken from the soil of Massachusetts to be delivered into
perpetual bondage, and in the judgment of the Supreme Court
which declared it as the lesson of our history that the Negro
had no rights that a white man was bound to respect.
"Last week at Dartmouth, at the great celebration in honor
of Daniel Webster, that famous college gave the highest honor
in its power to a Negro, amid the applause of the brilliant
assembly. And there was no applause more earnest or hearty
than that of the successor of Taney, the Democratic Chief
Justice of the United States. I know that the people of that
race are still the victims of outrages which all good men
deplore. But I also believe that the rising sense of justice
and of manhood in the South is already finding expression
in indignant remonstrance from the lips of governors and preachers,
and that the justice and manhood of the South will surely
make their way.
"Ah, Fellow Citizens, amid the sorrow and the mourning and
the tears, amid the horror and the disappointment and the
baffled hope, there comes to us from the open grave of William
McKinley a voice of good omen! What pride and love must we
feel for the republic that calls such men to her high places?
What hope and confidence in the future of a people, where
all men and all women of all parties and sections, of all
faiths and creeds, of all classes and conditions, are ready
to respond as ours have responded to the emotion of a mighty
love.
"You and I are Republicans. You and I are men of the North.
Most of us are Protestants in religion. We are men of native
birth. Yet if every Republican were to-day to fall in his
place, as William McKinley has fallen, I believe our countrymen
of the other party, in spite of what we deem their errors,
would take the Republic and bear on the flag to liberty and
glory. I believe if every Protestant were to be stricken
down by a lightning-stroke, that our brethren of the Catholic
faith would still carry on the Republic in the spirit of a
true and liberal freedom. I believe if every man of native
birth within our borders were to die this day, the men of
foreign birth, who have come here to seek homes and liberty
under the shadow of the Republic, would carry it on in God's
appointed way. I believe if every man of the North were to
die, the new and chastened South, with the virtues it has
cherished from the beginning, with its courage and its constancy,
would take the country and bear it on to the achievement of
its lofty destiny. The Anarchist must slay 75,000,000 Americans
before he can slay the Republic.
"Of course there would be mistakes. Of course there would
be disappointments and grievous errors. Of course there would
be many things for which the lovers of liberty would mourn.
But America would survive them all, and the nation our fathers
planted would endure in perennial life.
"William McKinley has fallen in high place. The spirit of
Anarchy, always the servant of the spirit of Despotism, aimed
its shaft at him, and his life for this world is over. But
there comes from his fresh grave a voice of lofty triumph:
'Be of good cheer. It is God's way.'"
I account it my supreme good fortune that my public life
has been spent in the service of Massachusetts. No man can
know better than I do how unworthy I have been of a place
in the great line of public men who have adorned her history
for nearly three hundred years. What a succession it has
been. What royal house, what empire or monarchy, can show
a catalogue like that of the men whom in every generation
she has called to high places--Bradford, and Winthrop, and
Sir Henry Vane, Leverett, and Sam Adams and John Adams and
his illustrious son, and Cabot and Dexter, Webster and Everett
and Sumner and Andrew. Nothing better can be said in praise
of either than that they have been worthy of her, and she
has been worthy of them. They have given her always brave
and honest service, brave and honest counsel. She has never
asked of them obsequiousness, or flattery, or even obedience
to her will, unless it had the approval of their own judgment
and conscience. That relation has been alike most honorable
and most advantageous to both sides. They have never been
afraid to trust the people and they have never been afraid
to withstand the people. They knew well the great secret
of all statesmanship, that he that withstands the people on
fit occasions is commonly the man who trusts them most and
always in the end the man they trust most.
CHAPTER II
ROGER SHERMAN AND HIS FAMILY
My mother, who died in 1866, at the age of eighty-three,
was the daughter of Roger Sherman of Connecticut. Her father
died when she was ten years old. She lived in her mother's
house, opposite the College in New Haven, until her marriage
in 1812. New Haven was one of the capital cities of New England.
Its society had the special attraction which belonged to the
seat of a famous college. Her mother's house was visited
by the survivors of the great period of the Revolution and
the framing of the Constitution, whom her father had known
during an eminent public service of nearly forty years.
My mother was the most perfect democrat, in the best sense
of the word, that I ever knew. It was a democracy which was
the logical result of the doctrines of the Old Testament and
of the New. It recognized the dignity of the individual soul,
without regard to the accident of birth or wealth or power
or color of the skin. If she were in the company of a Queen,
it would never have occurred to her that they did not meet
as equals. And if the Queen were a woman of sense, and knew
her, it would never occur to the Queen. The poorest people
in the town, the paupers in the poorhouse, thought of her
as a personal friend to whom they could turn for sympathy
and help. No long before her death, an old black woman died
in the poorhouse. She died in the night. An old man who
had been a town pauper a good part of his life sat up with
her and ministered to her wants as well as he could. Just
before she died, the old woman thanked him for his kindness.
She told him she should like to give him something to show
her gratitude, but that she had nothing in the world; but
she thought that if he would go to Mrs. Hoar and ask her
to give him a dollar, as a favor to her she would do it. The
draft on the bank of kindness was duly honored. And I think
the legacy was valued as highly by her who paid it as if it
had been a costly gem or a work of art from an emperor's gallery.
Mr. Calhoun was very intimate in my grandmother's household
when he was in college, and always inquired with great interest
after the young ladies of the family when he met anybody who
knew them. He had a special liking for my mother, who was
about his own age, and always inquired for her.
William M. Evarts visited Washington in his youth and called
upon Mr. Calhoun, who received him with great consideration,
went with him in person to see the President and what was
worth seeing in Washington. Mr. Calhoun spoke in the highest
terms of Roger Sherman to Mr. Evarts, said that he regarded
him as one of the greatest of our statesmen, and that he had
seen the true interests of the South when Southern statesmen
were blind to them. This Mr. Calhoun afterward said in a
speech in the Senate, including, however, Mr. Paterson of
New Jersey and Oliver Ellsworth in his eulogy.
The story of Roger Sherman's life has never been told at length.
There is an excellent memoir of him in Sanderson's "Lives
of the Signers," written by Jeremiah Evarts, with the assistance
of the late Governor and Senator Roger S. Baldwin of Connecticut.
But when that was written the correspondence of the great
actors of his time, and indeed the journals of the Continental
Congress and the Constitutional Convention and the Madison
Papers, were none of them accessible to the public.
An excellent though brief memoir of Mr. Sherman was published
a few years ago by L. H. Boutell, Esq., of Chicago. Mr. Sherman
was a man who seemed to care nothing for fame. He was content
to cause great things to be done for his country, and cared
nothing for the pride and glory of having done them. The
personal pronoun I is seldom found in any speech or writing
of his. He had a large share in the public events that led
to the Revolution, in the conduct of the War, in the proceedings
of the Continental Congress, in the framing of the Constitution,
in securing its adoption by Connecticut, and in the action
of the House and Senate in Washington's first Administration.
He was also for many years Judge of the highest court of his
State. He was a man of indefatigable industry. An accomplished
lady employed to make investigations in the public archives
of the Department of State, reported that she did not see
how he could ever have gone to bed.
He had a most affectionate and tender heart. He was very
fond of his family and friends. Although reserved and silent
in ordinary company, he was very agreeable in conversation,
and had a delightful wit. Some of the very greatest men of
his time have left on record their estimate of his greatness.
Thomas Jefferson said of him: "There is old Roger Sherman,
who never said a foolish thing in his life."
Theodore Sedgwick said: "He was a man of the selectest wisdom.
His influence was such that no measure, or part of a measure
which he advocated, ever failed to pass."
Fisher Ames said that if he were absent through a debate
and came in before the vote was taken he always voted with
Roger Sherman, as he always voted right.
Patrick Henry said that the first men in the Continental
Congress were Washington, Richard Henry Lee, and Roger Sherman,
and, later in life, that Roger Sherman and George Mason were
the greatest statesmen he ever knew. This statement, published
in the life of Mason, was carefully verified for me by my
friend, the late William Wirt Henry, grandson and biographer
of Patrick Henry, as appears by a letter from him in my possession.*
[Footnote]
*I attach a passage from Mr. William Wirt Henry's letter, dated
December 28, 1892.
"I am glad to be able to say that you may rely on the correctness
of the passage at page 221 of Howe's Historical Collections of Va.
giving Patrick Henry's estimate of Roger Sherman. It was furnished
the author by my father and though a youth I well remember Mr. Howe's
visit to Red Hill, my father's residence. My father, John Henry,
was about three years of age when his father died, but his mother
long survived Patrick Henry, as did several of his older children.
From his mother, brothers and sisters my father learned many
personal reminiscences of his father and his exceptionally
retentive memory enabled him to relate them accurately. I have
often heard him relate the reminiscences given on that page by
Mr. Howe."
[End of Footnote]
John Adams, in a letter to his wife, speaks of Sherman as
"That old Puritan, as honest as an angel, and as firm in
the cause of Independence as Mt. Atlas."
But perhaps the most remarkable testimony to his character,
one almost unexampled in the history of public men, is that
paid to him by Oliver Ellsworth, himself one of the greatest
men of his time,--Chief Justice of the United States, Envoy
to France, leader in the Senate for the first twelve years
of the Constitution, and author of the Judiciary Act. He
had been on the Bench of the Superior Court of Connecticut,
with Mr. Sherman, for many years. They served together in
the Continental Congress, and in the Senate of the United
States. They were together members of the Convention that
framed the Constitution, and of the State Convention in Connecticut
that adopted it. Chief Justice Ellsworth told John Adams
that he had made Mr. Sherman his model in his youth. Mr.
Adams adds: "Indeed I never knew two men more alike, except
that the Chief Justice had the advantage of a liberal education,
and somewhat more extensive reading. Mr. Sherman was born
in the State of Massachusetts, and was one of the strongest
and soundest pillars of the Revolution." It would be hard
to find another case of life-long and intimate companionship
between two public men where such a declaration by either
of the other would not seem ludicrous.
He was the only person who signed all four of the great State
Papers, to which the signatures of the delegates of the different
Colonies were attached:
The Association of 1774;
The Articles of Confederation;
The Declaration of Independence, and
The Constitution of the United States.
Robert Morris signed three of them.
His tenacity, the independence of his judgment, and his influence
over the great men with whom he was associated, is shown by
four striking instances among many others where he succeeded
in impressing his opinion on his associates.
_First:_ It is well known that the dispute between the large
States, who desired to have their votes in the National Legislature
counted in proportion to numbers, and the small States, who
desired to vote by States as equals, a dispute which nearly
wrecked the attempt to frame a Constitution of the United
States, arose in the Continental Congress, and gave rise to
great controversy there when the Articles of Confederation
were framed. Mr. Sherman was one of the Committee that framed
those Articles, as he was afterward one of the Committee who
reported the Declaration of Independence.
John Adams writes in his diary, that Mr. Sherman, in Committee
of the Whole, moved August 1, 1776, that the vote be taken
both ways, once according to numbers, and a second time, when
the States should vote as equals.
This was, in substance, so far as the arrangement of political
power was concerned, the plan of the Constitution. In the
Constitutional Convention, Mr. Sherman first moved this plan,
known as the Connecticut Compromise, and made the first argument
in its support, to which his colleague, Oliver Ellsworth,
afterward gave the weight of his powerful influence. The
Convention afterward, almost in despair of any settlement
of this vexed question, referred the matter to a grand committee,
on which Mr. Ellsworth was originally named. But he withdrew
from the committee, and Mr. Sherman took his place. Mr.
Sherman had the parliamentary charge of the matter from the
beginning, and at the close of the Convention, moved the provision
that no State should be deprived of its equal vote without
its consent.
When Mr. Sherman's known tenacity, and his influence over
the great men with whom he was associated, testified to by
so many of them, is borne in mind, it seems there can be no
doubt that he is entitled to the chief credit of carrying
out the scheme which he himself devised, and which, years
before the Convention met, he himself first moved in the
Continental Congress for which he made the first argument,
and which was reported from the committee of which he was
a member, representing the State which gave the name to the
Compromise. His motion, which was adopted, that no State
should be deprived of its equal vote in the Senate without
its consent, made the equality secure.*
[Footnote]
* See Boutell's "Life of Roger Sherman," Lodge's "Flying Frigate,
--Address on Ellsworth," Proceedings Am. Ant. Soc., October, 1902.
[End of Footnote]
_Second:_ In 1774, when Mr. Adams was on his way to the
Continental Congress in Philadelphia, he records in his diary
that he met Roger Sherman at New Haven, who, he says, "is
a solid and sensible man." Mr. Sherman said to him that he
thought the Massachusetts patriots, especially Mr. Otis,
in his argument for the Writs of Assistance, had given up
the whole case when they admitted that Parliament had the
power to legislate for the Colonies under any circumstances
whatever. He lived to join in the report from the committee,
and to sign the Declaration of Independence, which put the
case on his ground. The Declaration of Independence does
not recognize Parliament at all, except indirectly, when it
says the King "has combined with others" to do the wrongs
which are complained of.
_Third:_ In 1752 the whole country was overrun with paper
money. Mr. Sherman published in that year a little pamphlet,
entitled, "A Caveat Against Injustice, or An Inquiry Into
the Evil Consequences of a Fluctuating Medium of Exchange."
He stated with great clearness and force the arguments which,
unhappily, we have been compelled to repeat more than once
in later generations. He denounced paper money as "a cheat,
vexation, and snare, a medium whereby we are continually cheating
and wronging one another in our dealings and commerce." He
adds, "So long as we import so much more foreign goods than
are necessary, and keep so many merchants and traders employed
to procure and deal them out to us: a great part of which
we might as well make among ourselves; and another great part
of which we had much better be without, especially the spiritous
liquors, of which vast quantities are consumed in the colony
every year, unnecessarily, to the great destruction of estates,
morals, healths and even the lives of many of the inhabitants,--
I say, so long as these things are so, we shall spend a great
part of our labor and substance for that which will not profit
us. Whereas, if these things were reformed, the provisions
and other commodities which we might have to export yearly,
and which other governments are dependent upon us for, would
procure us gold and silver abundantly sufficient for a medium
of trade. And we might be as independent, flourishing and
happy a colony as any in the British Dominions."
He lived to move in the Convention, and to procure its insertion
in the Constitution, the clause that no State should make
anything but gold and silver legal tender.
_Fourth:_ Mr. Sherman took his seat in the Federal Convention
May 30, 1787. Mr. Randolph's resolution, submitted on the
29th day of May, being before the Convention the next day,
included the proposition that the National Legislature ought
to be empowered to enjoy the legislative rights vested in
Congress by the confederation, "and moreover to legislate
in all cases in which the separate States are incompetent,"
--the question being whether the clause authorizing Congress
to legislate in all cases in which the separate States are
incompetent should be retained, every State in the Convention
voted Aye, except Connecticut. Connecticut was divided. Ellsworth
voted Aye, and Sherman, No.
Mr. Sherman lived, not only to sign a Constitution of limited
powers, but himself to support the Tenth Article of Amendment
thereto, which is as follows:
"The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution,
nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States
respectively, or to the people." The words "or to the people"
were moved by Mr. Sherman after the original article was reported.
So he saw clearly in the beginning, what no other member saw,
the two great American principles, first that the National
Government should be a Government of limited and delegated
powers, and next, that there is a domain of legislation which
the people have not delegated either to the National Government
or to the States, and upon which no legislative power may
rightfully enter.
I surely am not mistaken in thinking that even without the
other services of a life devoted to the public, these four
contributions to the Constitutional history of the country
entitle Mr. Sherman to an honorable place in the grateful
memory of his countrymen, and vindicate the tributes which
I have cited from his illustrious contemporaries.
My grandmother, the daughter of Benjamin Prescott of Salem,
was a woman of great intelligence and a great beauty in her
time. She was once taken out to dinner by General Washington
when he was President. Madam Hancock, whose husband had been
President of the Continental Congress and Governor of Massachusetts,
complained to General Washington's Secretary, Mr. Lear, that
that honor belonged to her. The Secretary told General Washington,
the next day, what she said. The General answered that it
was his privilege to give his arm to the handsomest woman
in the room. Whether the reply was communicated to Mrs. Hancock,
or whether she was comforted by it, does not appear. General
Washington had been a guest at my grandfather's house in my
mother's childhood, and she had sat on his knee. She was
then six years old. But she always remembered the occasion
very vividly.
My grandfather was a friend of Lafayette, who mentions him
in one of his letters, the original of which is in my possession.
One of my mother's brothers, Lt. Colonel Isaac Sherman, led
the advance at Princeton, and was himself intimate with Washington
and Lafayette. He was a very brave officer and commanded
a Connecticut regiment at the storming of Stony Point. He
is honorably mentioned in Gen. Wayne's report of the action.
Washington alludes to him in one of his letters to Lafayette,
as one of his friends whom Lafayette will be glad to see if
he will visit this country once more. There is, in the State
Department, an amusing correspondence between Col. Sherman
and Gen. Wayne, in which he complains that Mad Anthony does
great injustice in his report to the soldiers from other States
than Pennsylvania. Mad Anthony was mad at the letter. But
after a rather significant request from Gen. Washington,
he repaired the wrong.
Another of her brothers who died at the age of eighty-eight,
when I was thirty years old, and at whose house I was often
a visitor, spent three weeks as Washington's guest at Mount
Vernon. Old Deacon Beers of New Haven, whom I knew in his
old age, was one of the guard who had Andre in custody. During
his captivity, Andre made a pen-and-ink likeness of himself,
which he gave to Deacon Beers. It is now in the possession
of Yale College.
I had from my mother the story of General Washington taking
Chief Justice Ellsworth's twin children, one on each knee,
and reciting to them the ballad of the Derbyshire Ram. This
tradition has remained in the Ellsworth family. I have confirmed
it by inquiry of the Rev. Mr. Wood, a grandson of Oliver Ellsworth,
who died in Washington a few years ago.
Besides the uncle to whom I allude, who died in 1856, Judge
Simeon Baldwin, who married two of my aunts, died in 1851,
aged ninety. He was a Member of Congress in 1803-5, and was
an intimate friend of Chancellor Kent, who was his classmate
and chum in Yale, and was intimate with the Federalist leaders
of the Hamilton party. I several times made visits in his
household before his death. President Jeremiah Day, another
uncle by marriage, was at the head of Yale for thirty years.
He died in 1867, at the age of 94.
My mother's sister, Mrs. Jeremiah Evarts, was born January
28, 1774, and died in 1851, at the age of seventy-seven. She
knew intimately many famous men and women of the Revolutionary
period. Her husband was an intimate friend of John Jay. She
had a great deal of the sprightly wit for which her son, William,
was so famous. She was at home at the time of Washington's
visit, then a child eleven years old, and opened the door
for him when he took his leave. The General, who was very
fond of children, put his hand on her head and said, "My little
lady, I wish you a better office." She dropped a courtesy
and answered, quick as lightning, "Yes, sir; to let you in."
Mrs. Evarts was a woman not only of sprightly wit, but of
great beauty. She liked to tell in her old age of a dinner
which John Hancock gave for her father and her, in Boston,
when she was a girl. She described her dress with great
minuteness, and added naively, "Didn't I look pretty?"
My mother, who was married in 1812, knew very intimately many
of her father's and mother's old friends who had been distinguished
in the public service in the Revolutionary period and the
Administration of Washington and John Adams and Thomas Jefferson.
She knew very well the family of John Jay. He and his wife
were visitors at my grandmother's after their return from
Spain. My mother was intimate in the household of Oliver
Ellsworth as in a second home. His children were her playmates.
She was also very intimate indeed with the family of Senator
Hillhouse, whose daughter Mary was one of her dearest friends.
Senator Hillhouse held a very high place in the public life
of Connecticut in his day. He was one of the friends of Hamilton,
and one of the group of Federal statesmen of whom Hamilton
was the leader. He was United States Senator for Connecticut
from 1796 to 1810.
After she became a young lady, my mother, with Fanny Ellsworth,
afterward Mrs. Wood, and Mary Hillhouse, daughter of the Senator,
established a school to teach young colored children to read
and sew. The colored people in New Haven were in a sad condition
in those days. The law of the State made it a penal offence
to teach a colored child to read. These girls violated the
law. The public authorities interfered and threatened them
with prosecution. But the young women were resolute. They
insisted that they were performing a religious duty, and declared
that they should disobey the law and take the consequences.
A good deal of sympathy was aroused in their behalf. The
New Haven authorities had to face the question whether they
would imprison the daughter of a Signer of the Declaration
of Independence, who had affixed his signature to the great
affirmation that all men are created equal, the daughters of
two Framers of the Constitution, and the daughter of James
Hillhouse, then the foremost citizen of Connecticut, for
teaching little children to read the Bible. They gave up the
attempt. The school kept on and flourished. President Dwight
raised a considerable fund for it by a course of lectures,
and it continued down to within my own recollection. What
became of the fund which was raised for its support I cannot
tell.
Jeremiah Evarts was born February 13, 1781. He died May 10,
1831. He was the founder and Secretary of the American Board
of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. He was one of the
thirteen men who met in Samuel Dexter's office in 1812, to
inaugurate the Temperance Reformation. The habit of excessive
drinking was then almost universal in this country. Liquors
and wines were freely used on social occasions, at weddings
and at funerals. The clergyman staggered home from his round
of pastoral calls, and the bearers partook of brandy or gin
or rum in the room adjoining that where the coffin was placed
ready for the funeral. A gentleman present said it was utterly
impracticable to try and wean the American people from the habit of
drinking. Jeremiah Evarts answered, "It is right, therefore
practicable."
He was a Puritan of the old school. He made a vigorous but
ineffectual attempt in Connecticut to enforce the Sunday
laws. His death was caused by his exertions in resisting
the removal of the Cherokee Indians from Georgia, a removal
accomplished in violation of the Constitution and of public
faith. The Supreme Court of the United States declared the
law of Georgia unconstitutional. But Georgia defied the mandate
of the Court, and it was never executed. The missionary agent
was imprisoned and died of his confinement. Mr. Evarts said,
"There is a court that has power to execute its judgments."
I told this story to Horace Maynard, an eminent member of
Congress and a member of the Cabinet. Mr. Maynard said, "There
was never a prophecy more terribly accomplished. The territory
from which those Indians were unlawfully removed was the scene
of the Battle of Missionary Ridge, which is not far from the
grave of Worcester, the missionary who died in prison. That
land was fairly drenched with blood and honeycombed with graves."
Mr. Evarts edited the _Panoplist,_ a very able magazine which
powerfully defended the old theology against the Unitarian
movement, then at its height.
A well-known writer, Rev. Leonard W. Bacon, published a short
time ago a sketch entitled, "The Greater Evarts," in which
he contrasted the career of Jeremiah Evarts with that of his
brilliant and delightful son. Whether that judgment shall
stand we may know when the question is settled, which is to
be answered in every generation, whether martyrdom be a failure.
Among the inmates of my grandfather's household in my mother's
childhood and youth was Roger Minott Sherman. He was the
son of the Reverend Josiah Sherman, my grandfather's brother,
a clergyman of Woburn, Massachusetts, where Roger Minott was
born. His father died in 1789. My grandfather took the boy
into his household and educated him and treated him as a son,
and just before his death gave him his watch, which is now
in the possession of a son of General Sherman.
Roger Minott Sherman was unquestionably the ablest lawyer
in New England who never obtained distinction in political
life, and, with the exception of Daniel Webster and Jeremiah
Mason and Rufus Choate, the ablest New England ever produced.*
[Footnote]
* See Appendix.
[End of Footnote]
Roger Minott Sherman's father died in 1789. The widow wrote
to some of her friends to see what assistance could be obtained
to enable her son to continue his studies at Yale. It was
apparently in response to this appeal that Mr. Sherman wrote
the following letter to his nephew.
NEW YORK, April 28, 1790.
_Dear Nephew,_--I would have you continue your studies and
remain at my house as you have done hitherto. I hope you
will be provided for so as to complete your education at College,
and lay a foundation for future usefulness. When I return
home I shall take such further order respecting it as may
be proper. I shall afford you as much assistance as under
my circumstances may be prudent.
I am your affectionate uncle,
ROGER SHERMAN.
Mr. Sherman died a year after his nephew graduated; but before
he died he doubtless saw the promise of that distinguished
career which added new lustre to the Sherman name.
It is a rather remarkable fact that my mother had such close
relations to so many eminent lawyers. Her father, though
his public duties prevented him from practising law very long,
was a very great lawyer and judge. Her brother-in-law, Judge
Baldwin, was an eminent Judge of the Connecticut Supreme Court.
Her cousin, Roger Minott Sherman, as has just been said, was
an inmate of her father's household in her childhood, and
was to her as a brother. She had, after his mother's death,
the care of Senator Roger Sherman Baldwin, her nephew, who
was for many years at the head of the Connecticut Bar. To
her nephew, William M. Evarts, my father's house was as another
home in his boyhood. He was the leading advocate of his time.
Her son, E. R. Hoar, was Attorney General of the United
States. And her husband was in his day one of the foremost
advocates of Massachusetts. So, with a little alteration,
the Greek epitaph of the woman who was the daughter, wife,
sister and mother of princes, might apply to her, if, as I like
to think, a first-rate American lawyer is entitled to as much
respect as a petty Greek prince.
CHAPTER III
SAMUEL HOAR
I was born in Concord August 29, 1826. My grandfather, two
great-grandfathers, and three of my father's uncles were at
Concord Bridge in the Lincoln Company, of which my grandfather,
Samuel Hoar, whom I well remember, was lieutenant, on the
19th of April, 1775. The deposition of my great-grandfather,
John Hoar, with a few others, relating to the events of that
day, was taken by the patriots and sent to England by a fast-
sailing ship, which reached London before the official news
of the battle at Concord came from the British commander.
John had previously been a soldier in the old French War and
was a prisoner among the Indians for three months. His life
was not a very conspicuous one. He had been a Selectman of
Lexington, dwelling in the part of the town afterward incorporated
with Lincoln. There is in existence a document manumitting
his slave, which, I am happy to say, is the only existing
evidence that any ancestor of mine ever owned one.
My father's grandfather, on the mother's side, was Colonel
Abijah Peirce, of Lincoln. He was prominent in Middlesex
County from a time preceding the Revolutionary War down to
his death. He was one of the Committee of the Town who had
charge of corresponding with other towns and with the Committee
of Safety in Boston. The day before the battle at Concord
Bridge, he had been chosen Colonel of a regiment of Minute
Men. But he had not got his commission, taken the oath, or
got his equipments. So he went into the battle as a private
in the company in which his son-in-law was lieutenant, armed
with nothing but a cane. After the first volley was exchanged
he crossed the bridge and took the cartridge-box and musket
of one of the two British soldiers who were killed, which
he used during the day. The gun was preserved for a long
time in his family, and came to my grandfather, after his
death. It was the first trophy of the Revolutionary War taken
in battle. Such things, however, were not prized in those
days as they are now. One of my uncles lent the musket to
one of his neighbors for the celebration of the taking of
Cornwallis, and it never was brought back. We would give
its weight in gold to get it back.
I will put on record two stories about Colonel Peirce, which
have something of a superstitious quality in them. I have
no doubt of their truth, as they come from persons absolutely
truthful and not superstitious or credulous themselves.
When Colonel Peirce was seventy years old, he told his wife
and my aunt, her granddaughter, from whom I heard the story,
who was then a grown-up young woman, that he was going out
to the barn and going up to the high beams. In those days
the farmers' barns had the hay in bays on each side, and over
the floor in the middle rails were laid across from one side
to the other, on which corn-stalks, for bedding the cattle,
and other light things were put. They urged him not to go,
and said an old man like him should not take such risks; to
which he replied by dancing a hornpipe in the room in their
presence, showing something of that exhilaration of spirit
which the Scotch called being "fey" and which they regard
as a presage of approaching misfortune. He went out, and
within a few minutes fell from the high beams down to the
floor and was instantly killed.
The other story is that a little while before this happened
he said that he thought he saw the dim and misty figure of
a ship pass slowly from one side of the barn to the other,
under the roof.
A like story is told of Abraham Lincoln; that he used to
see a vision of a ship before any great event, and that it
came to him the night before he died.
I asked Mr. Secretary Hay about the Lincoln anecdote and give
his reply.
DEPARTMENT OF STATE, WASHINGTON, April 18, 1903.
_Dear Senator Hoar:_
You will find on page 281 of Volume 10 of "The Life of Lincoln,"
by Nicolay and Hay, all I know about the story.
General Grant, in an interview with the President, on the
14th of April--the day he was shot--expressed some anxiety
as to the news from Sherman. "The President answered him
in that singular vein of poetic mysticism, which, though constantly
held in check by his strong common sense, formed a remarkable
element in his character. He assured Grant that the news
would come soon and come favorable, for he had last night
had his usual dream which preceded great events. He seemed
to be, he said, in a singular and indescribable vessel, but
always the same, moving with great rapidity towards a dark
and indefinite shore. He had had this dream before Antietam,
Murfreesboro, Gettysburg and Vicksburg."
The story is also found in George Eliot's Life (Vol. 3, 113),
as related by Charles Dickens on the authority of Stanton,
with characteristic amplifications.
Yours faithfully,
JOHN HAY.
The Honorable
George F. Hoar
United States Senate
My father, Samuel Hoar of Concord, was born in 1778 and died
in 1856. He was one of the most eminent lawyers at the Massachusetts
Bar. To this statement I can give better testimony than my
own, in the following letter from the Honorable Eben F. Stone,
late member of Congress from the Essex District.
WASHINGTON 9 March, '84.
_My dear Mr. Hoar:_
When I was a law student, I dined at Ipswich in our county,
with the Judges of the Supreme Court and the members of the
Essex Bar, who then had a room and a table by themselves.
The conversation took a professional turn, and a good deal
was said about Mr. Choate's great skill and success as an
advocate. Judge Shaw then remarked that, sitting at nisi
prius in different parts of the State, he had had an opportunity
to compare the different lawyers who were distinguished for
their success with juries, and that there was no man in the
State, in his opinion, who had so much influence with a jury
as Sam Hoar of Concord. This he ascribed not simply to his
legal ability, but largely to the confidence the people had
in his integrity and moral character.
Yours truly,
E. F. STONE.
Mr. Hoar was associated with Mr. Webster in the defence of
Judge Prescott when he was impeached before the Senate of
Massachusetts. He encountered Webster, and Choate, and Jeremiah
Mason, and John Davis, and the elder Marcus Morton, and other
giants of the Bar, in many a hard battle. Mr. Webster makes
affectionate reference to him in a letter to my brother, now
in existence. He was a member of the Harrisburg Convention
which nominated General Harrison for the Presidency in 1839.
He represented Concord in the Massachusetts Convention to
Revise the Constitution, in 1820, in which convention his
father, Samuel Hoar, represented Lincoln. When he first rose
to speak in that body, John Adams said, "That young man reminds
me of my old friend, Roger Sherman." He was a Federalist,
afterward a Whig, and in the last years of his life a Republican.
Mr. Hoar succeeded Edward Everett as Representative in Congress
from the Middlesex District in 1835. He served there but
a single term. He made one speech, a Constitutional argument
in support of the power of Congress to abolish slavery in
the District of Columbia. He also took rather a prominent
part in a discussion in which the Whig members complained
of one of the rulings of the Democratic speaker.
His service was not long enough to gain for him any considerable
national distinction. But that he made a good impression
on the House appears from an extract of a letter I lately
received from my classmate, Rev. Walter Mitchell, the author
of the spirited and famous poem, "Tacking Ship off Fire Island."
He says: "I heard your uncle, Mr. Eliot, say that when your
father went to Congress the Southern members said, 'Where
has this man been all his life, and why have we never heard
of him? With us a man of his ability would be known all over
the South.'"
My father retired from active practice at the Bar shortly
after his return from Congress in 1837. In 1844 an event
occurred which contributed largely to the bitter feeling
between the two sections of the country, which brought on the
Civil War.
As is well known, under the laws of South Carolina, colored
seamen on ships that went into the port of Charleston were
imprisoned during the stay of the ship, and sold to pay their
jail fees if the ship went off and left them, or if the fees
were not paid.
The Legislature of Massachusetts directed the Governor to
employ counsel to test the constitutionality of these laws.
No Southern lawyer of sufficient ability and distinction could
be found who would undertake the duty. The Governor found
it difficult to procure counsel who were in active practice.
Mr. Hoar was led by a strong sense of duty to leave his retirement
in his old age and undertake the delicate and dangerous mission.
When he arrived in South Carolina and made known his errand,
the people of the State, especially of the city of Charleston,
were deeply excited. The Legislature passed angry resolutions,
directing the Governor to expel from the State, "the Northern
emissary" whose presence was deemed an insult. The mob of
Charleston threatened to destroy the hotel where Mr. Hoar
was staying. He was urged to leave the city, which he firmly
and steadfastly refused to do. The mob were quieted by the
assurances of leading gentlemen that Mr. Hoar would be removed.
A deputation of seventy principal citizens waited upon him
at his hotel and requested him to consent to depart. He
had already declined the urgent request of Dr. Whittredge,
an eminent physician, to withdraw and take refuge at his
plantation, saying he was too old to run and could not go
back to Massachusetts if he had returned without an attempt
to discharge his duty. The committee told him that they
had assured the people that he should be removed, and that
he must choose between stepping voluntarily into a carriage
and being taken to the boat, or being dragged by force. He
then, and not until then, said he would go. He was taken by
the committee to the boat, which sailed for Wilmington.
It has generally been said that Mr. Hoar was driven from
Charleston by a mob. This I suppose to be technically true.
But it is not true in the popular sense of the words. The
committee of seventy, although they had no purpose of personal
violence, other than to place one old gentleman in a carriage
and take him to a boat, were, of course, in every legal sense
a mob. But when that committee waited upon him the personal
danger was over.
A solitary negative vote against the resolve of the Legislature
directing Mr. Hoar to be expelled was cast by C. S. Memmenger,
afterward Secretary of the Treasury of the Southern Confederacy.
He is said to have been a Union man in 1832.
I was told by General Hurlburt of Illinois, a distinguished
officer in the Civil War, and member of the national House
of Representatives, that at the time of my father's mission
to South Carolina, he was a law student in the office of
James L. Petigru. Mr. Petigru, as is well known, was a Union
man during the Civil War. Such, however, was the respect
for his great ability and character that he was permitted
to live in Charleston throughout the War. It is said that
on one occasion while this strife was going on, a stranger
in Charleston met Mr. Petigru in the street and asked him
the way to the Insane Hospital. To this the old man answered
by pointing north, south, east and west, and said, "You will
find the Insane Hospital in every direction here."
According to General Hurlburt, Mr. Petigru had quietly organized
a company of young men whom he could trust, who were ready,
under his lead, to rescue Mr. Hoar and insure his personal
safety if he were attacked by the mob.
John Quincy Adams says in his diary, speaking of the transaction:
"I approved the whole of his conduct." Governor Briggs, in
communicating the facts to the Legislature, says in a special
message: "The conduct of Mr. Hoar under the circumstances
seems to have been marked by that prudence, firmness and wisdom
which have distinguished his character through his life."
Mr. Emerson says, in a letter dated December 17, 1844:
"Mr. Hoar has just come home from Carolina, and gave me this
morning a narrative of his visit. He had behaved admirably
well, I judge, and there were fine heroic points in his story.
One expression struck me, which, he said, he regretted a little
afterward, as it might sound a little vapouring. A gentleman
who was very much his friend called him into a private room
to say that the danger from the populace had increased to
such a degree that he must now insist on Mr. Hoar's leaving
the city at once, and he showed him where he might procure
a carriage and where he might safely stop on the way to his
plantation, which he would reach the next morning. Mr. Hoar
thanked him but told him again that he could not and would
not go, and that he had rather his broken skull should be
carried to Massachusetts by somebody else, than to carry it
home safe himself whilst his duty required him to remain.
The newspapers say, following the Charleston papers, that
he consented to depart: this he did not, but in every instance
refused,--to the Sheriff, and acting Mayor, to his friends, and
to the committee of the S. C. Association, and only went
when they came in crowds with carriages to conduct him to
the boat, and go he must,--then he got into the coach himself,
not thinking it proper to be dragged."
I add this letter from Dr. Edward Everett Hale.
39 HIGHLAND ST., ROXBURY, MASS., Mar. 13, 1884.
_Dear Hoar:_
Thank you very much for your memoir of your father. I was
in Washington the day he and your sister came home from Charleston.
I remember that Grinnell told me the news--and my first real
feeling _in life_ that there must be a war, was when Grinnell
said on the Avenue: "I do not know but we may as well head
the thing off now--and fight it out." The first public intelligence
the North had of the matter was in my letter to the _Daily
Advertiser,_ which was reprinted in New York, their own correspondents
not knowing of the expulsion.
Always yours,
EDW. E. HALE.
I have Dr. Vedder's permission to publish the accompanying
correspondence, which so happily turns into a means of delightful
reconciliation what has been so long, but can be no longer,
a painful memory. I was received in Charleston with the delightful
hospitality of which no other people in the world so fully
understand the secret.
CHARLESTON, S. C., Oct. 20, 1898.
THE HONORABLE GEORGE F. HOAR.
_Dear Sir:_
We have a New England Society in Charleston which is now seventy-
six years old. It has had a notable history, Daniel Webster
having been among its annual orators. Its Forefathers' Anniversary
is the social and literary event of our year. I write to
extend the warm greeting of the Society to yourself, and the
earnest request that you will be our guest at the banquet
on Forefathers' Day Dec. 22, and speak to the sentiment--
"The Day we Celebrate," or any other that you would prefer.
Of course, it will be our privilege to make your coming wholly
without cost to yourself. May I venture to urge that your
presence with us will have a beautiful significance in its
relation to the good feeling which so happily obtains in all
our land, and a past event which associates your honored Father's
name so memorably and sadly with our City? Charleston would
fain give the honored Son a welcome which shall obliterate
the past.
Hoping for a favorable and early reply, I remain,
Yours with great respect,
CHARLES S. VEDDER, _President._
WORCESTER, MASS., October 26, 1898.
_My Dear Sir:_
I am sure you will not doubt that I feel myself highly honored
by your invitation in behalf of the New England Society of
Charleston, as I am deeply touched and gratified by what you
say in the letter which conveys it. I thank God that I have
lived to behold this day, and that my eyes have been spared
to see the people of the whole country united again in affection
as in the early time.
I hope and expect to be able to attend your banquet next
Forefathers' Day. I will do so if the condition of the public
business shall permit. I have the charge of the business of
the Committee on the Judiciary, two of whose important members
are now absent in Paris, and it is of course possible that
some of the great questions which are before us may require
constant attendance in their places of all the Senators during
the next session without the possibility of interruption for
a Christmas holiday. Subject to that possibility, I will
accept your invitation, and am, with high regard,
Faithfully yours,
GEO. F. HOAR.
In 1850, after he had withdrawn from professional and public
life, being then seventy-two years old, Mr. Hoar was sent
to the House of Representatives, by the town of Concord, to
oppose the removal of the courts from Concord. He was successful
in the opposition. He had, during the winter, an opportunity
to render a very important service to Harvard College. There
was a vigorous and dangerous attempt to abolish the existing
Corporation, and transfer the property and control of the
College to a board of fifteen persons, to be chosen by the
Legislature by joint ballot, one third to go out of office
every second year. This measure was recommended in an elaborate
report by Mr. Boutwell, an influential member of the House,
chosen Governor at the next election, and advocated by Henry
Wilson, afterward Senator and Vice-President, and by other
gentlemen of great influence. All the members of the Corporation
were Whigs in politics and Unitarians, a sect containing a
very small proportion of the people of the State. The project
to take the College from their control was very popular. The
House listened willingly to the able arguments with which
the measure was introduced, and before Mr. Hoar spoke its
opinion was unmistakable for the bill. He argued that the
measure was in conflict with the Constitution of the United
States, and defended the College with great earnestness from
the charge that it had "failed to answer the just expectations
of the public." The Boston _Daily Atlas,_ edited by General
Schouler, then a member of the House, said the next day of
this speech: "The argument of Mr. Hoar was of transcendent
excellence, and had a most overpowering effect upon the House.
We regret that no report was made of it. It is a pity that
so much learning, argument and eloquence should be lost."
This speech caused a revolution in the opinion of the body.
The measure was referred to the next General Court. Mr. Hoar
was employed by the Corporation as counsel to appear before
the Legislature the next winter in its behalf. But the measure
was never heard of afterward. Dr. Walker said of this occurrence,
after his sententious fashion: "Other men have served the
College; Samuel Hoar saved it."
The Board of Overseers, who have visitorial powers over the
College, and whose concurrence is necessary to the election
or appointment of officers, Professors and members of the
Corporation, and who included for a long time the Governor,
Lieutenant-Governor, and members of the Senate, had always
been held to be the representative of the Commonwealth, although
the members of the body who were not members _ex-officio_
were elected by the Board itself.
A bill passed in 1851, to which no objection was made, vested
the election of this body in the Legislature. But after a
few years' trial, that was abandoned, and the members of the
Overseers are now chosen by the Alumni of the College.
I shall speak in a later chapter of the foundation of the
Free Soil Party. The call for the Convention held at Worcester
on the 28th of June, 1848, addressed to all persons opposed
to the election of Cass and Taylor, written by his son, E.
R. Hoar, was headed by Mr. Hoar. He presided over the meeting,
and delegates were elected to a National Convention to be
held at Buffalo, which nominated Van Buren and Adams for President
and Vice-President. This was the origin of the Republican
party.
After 1848, Mr. Hoar did not relax his efforts to bring about
a union of all parties in the North, in opposition to further
encroachments of the slave power. In accomplishing this end,
his age, the regard in which he was held by all classes of
people, his known disinterestedness and independence, fitted
him to exert a large influence. The Free Soil movement had
led to the formation of a party in Massachusetts, small in
numbers, but zealous, active, in earnest, containing many
able leaders, eloquent orators, and vigorous writers. They
had sent Charles Allen to the lower House of Congress, and
Sumner and Rantoul to the Senate. But they had apparently
made little impression on the national strength of either
of the old parties.
In 1854, the passage of the measure known as the Kansas-
Nebraska Bill afforded a new opportunity. A meeting of citizens
of Concord appointed a committee, of which Mr. Hoar was Chairman,
and A. G. Fay, Secretary, who called a meeting of prominent
persons from different parts of the State to meet at the American
House in Boston, to take measures for forming a new party
and calling a State Convention. This Convention was held
at Worcester on the 7th of September, and formed a party under
the name of Republican, and nominated candidates for State
offices. Its meeting has been claimed to be the foundation
of the Republican party of Massachusetts, and its twenty-
fifth anniversary was celebrated accordingly in 1879. But
it effected little more than to change the name of the Free
Soil party. Few Whigs or Democrats united to the movement.
A secret organization called Americans, or Know-Nothings,
swept the Commonwealth like a wave, electing all the State
officers, and, with scarcely an exception, the entire Legislature.
The candidate for Governor nominated by the Republicans at
Worcester, himself joined the Know-Nothings, and labored to
defeat his own election.
The next year the attempt was more successful. On the 10th
of August, 1855, a meeting without distinction of party was
held at Chapman Hall, in Boston, which was addressed by Mr.
Hoar, George Bliss, Franklin Dexter, William Brigham, Lyman
Beecher, Richard H. Dana, Jr., Charles F. Adams, Henry Wilson,
Stephen C. Phillips, and others. On the 30th of the same
month, a meeting of conference committees was held, representing
the American or Know-Nothing party, the Know-Somethings, an
antislavery organization which had held a National Convention
at Cleveland in June, and the Chapman Hall Convention. This
conference appointed a committee of twenty-six to call a State
Convention, at the head of which they placed Mr. Hoar. This
State Convention was held at Worcester, nominated Julius
Rockwell for Governor, and the organization which it created
has constituted the Republican party of Massachusetts to the
present day.
The part taken in calling this Convention, and in promoting
the union which gave it birth, was Mr. Hoar's last important
public service. His failing health prevented his taking an
active share in the Presidential campaign of 1856.
I prefer, in putting on record this brief estimate of a character
which has been to me the principal object of reverence and
honor in my life, to use the language of others, and not
my own. From many tributes to my father's character, from
persons more impartial than I can be, I have selected two
or three.
I cannot quote at length Ralph Waldo Emerson's sketches of
Mr. Hoar, who was his near neighbor and intimate personal
friend for many years. They are noble and faithful as portraits
of Van Dyke or Titian. One of them is a speech made in Concord
town-meeting on the third day of November, 1856, the day after
Mr. Hoar's death. The other was contributed to the _Unitarian
Monthly Religious Magazine,_ then edited by Rev. Dr. Huntington,
afterward Bishop of New York. Mr. Emerson says in one of
them: "His head, with singular grace in its lines, had a
resemblance to the bust of Dante. He retained to the last
the erectness of his tall but slender form, and not less the
full strength of his mind. Such was, in old age, the beauty
of his person and carriage, as if his mind radiated, and made
the same impression of probity on all beholders."
He ends with this quatrain:
With beams December planets dart,
His cold eye truth and conduct scanned;
July was in his sunny heart,
October in his liberal hand.
The following is from a letter of Sherman Day, a man whose
reputation for wisdom and integrity is among the treasures
of California:
"BERKELEY, 23d May, 1884.
HON. GEO. FRISBIE HOAR,
U. S. Senate, Washington, D. C.
_My Dear Sir:_
"I was very much gratified to receive, some weeks since,
a copy of your biographical sketch of your venerable father.
It was the more precious to me because it awakened memories
of my own early life; while it recalls the tall, the gentle
and dignified figure and courteous demeanor of your father
in his prime of life. I can remember being at your father's
wedding at my grandmother's house when I was about 6-1/2
years old. Several years before you were born, I was at
the Phillips Academy at Andover, and used occasionally to
spend a vacation with my beloved aunt, who was a sort of
mother to me in my earliest childhood. It was at her home
that I first read Washington Irving's Sketch Book, then just
appearing in separate numbers. I believe the book belonged
to a law student of your father's, as your father had not
yet taken to the reading of romances.
"My memory extends back to the organization of the Constitutional
Convention of 1820. I well remember the venerable figure
of John Adams, as he took the seat of honor at the right hand
of the president, and I remember the sonorous voice of Josiah
Quincy, the Secretary. I was staying at the house of Mr.
Evarts, and remember your father's dining there, and discussing
the deportment and characteristics of several of the more
prominent members. Among them was the tall member from Worcester,
Levi Lincoln, conspicuous by his drab overcoat, by his frequent
speaking, and by his constantly moving about among the members.
The member who made the most lasting impression on my memory
was Daniel Webster. He was not yet forty years old, stalwart,
black haired and black eyed, with a somewhat swarthy complexion;
his manly beauty and his eloquence being alike objects of
admiration. He had not attained that stoutness which his
form assumed in later years. I could illustrate his appearance
better to your brother, Edward, by asking him to recall Don
Pablo de la Guerra of Santa Barbara, whom I deemed a very
good type, _in appearance,_ of Webster in the Convention of
1820."
George William Curtis came to know Mr. Hoar very well during
his own life in Concord. He and his brother, Burrill, were
almost daily visitors at our house:
WEST NEW BRIGHTON, STATEN ISLAND, N. Y.,
March 19, 1884.
_My dear Mr. Hoar:_
I thank you very much for a copy of your sketch of your father
which vividly recalls him to me as I remember him in my Concord
days long ago. I recollect that when I saw in Paris Couture's
famous picture of the Decadence of the Romans, it was your
father that I thought of as I saw the figures of the older
Romans gazing reproachfully upon the revels. So he may have
felt of his country as he died.
With great regard, very truly yours,
GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS.
The following is from J. Evarts Greene, formerly editor of
the Worcester _Spy,_ and one of the ablest members of his
profession in New England:
WORCESTER, Mar. 10, 1884.
_My dear Mr. Hoar:_
I want to thank you especially for the copy of the Memoir
of your father, which I received to-day. I am exceedingly
glad to have it on your account and his. He is the most venerable
figure in my memory. He was always spoken of in our family
with the highest respect, and few things have ever gratified
me so much as his kindness to me on the occasion of my last
visit to Concord during his lifetime. It was in 1850, I think,
while I was in college and about fifteen years old. I had
always held him in awe as the greatest and wisest man within
my knowledge, and should have no more have thought of familiar
conversation with him than with the Pope. But his grave and
kindly courtesy, as he sat down with me after supper, though
it did not quite put me at my ease, gave me courage to talk
more freely than I had ever thought possible; and while my
veneration for him was not diminished, I felt that there was
no one now on earth that I need be afraid of.
Faithfully yours,
J. EVARTS GREENE.
The Hon. Geo. F. Hoar.
The following letter is from Professor Thatcher, the eminent
Latin Professor of Yale:
NEW HAVEN, 14th March, 1884.
HONORABLE GEORGE F. HOAR.
_My dear Senator:_
I write simply but cordially to thank you for the copy of
your venerated Father's Memoir which you have been so kind
as to send to your cousin, Elizabeth. I have read it with
the delight which must be common to all who read it. A life
so qualified with the selectest traits of a great and gentle
soul, so substantial with continual but full and unembarrassed
labor, and so constantly influential for elevated and beneficent
ends, with nothing discoverable in it to check its great drift
and power,--such a life is an almost unequalled gift of God
to such a community as his. There is a rare charm in the
narrative, and one cannot help rejoicing that you have been
able to gather together the recorded judgments of so many
men whose judgments are worthy to be recorded,
I am, ever,
Very truly yours,
THOMAS A. THATCHER.
SENATE, WASHINGTON, March 9, 1884.
_My dear Mr. Hoar:_
I thank you very much for a copy of the Memoir of your father.
It is a tribute to his worth and fame worthy of him and of
yourself. I hardly know which most to admire, the character
it portrays, or the filial piety it evinces.
It brings back very vividly the venerable form and the lovely
character I met and revered in the Massachusetts Legislature
when I was a young man, and have ever since held among the
safest and best of the land. Permit me to count it my own
best fortune that I can subscribe myself the colleague and
friend of the son and biographer of Samuel Hoar.
Truly yours,
H. L. DAWES.
The Honorable Geo. F. Hoar,
Senate.
HONORABLE GEO. F. HOAR
_Dear Sir_
Thanks for the "Memoir of Samuel Hoar, by his Son, George
F. Hoar."
For years the character of this true man, as a noble, courageous,
self-sacrificing and independent American citizen has commanded
my profound admiration and respect, and I am greatly pleased
to become more familiar with his life. Fortunately the facts
of it need no ornamentation or partial painting by the Son,
for the modesty of the latter would never have responded to
any such necessity.
I am,
Very truly,
Yours, etc.
WM. P. FRYE.
LEICESTER, March 13/84.
_Dear Mr. Hoar:_
I cannot too much thank you for sending me the memoir--tho'
so brief and exceedingly temperate--of your father.
He was one of the few men who kept Massachusetts and New England
from rushing down the steep place and perishing in the waters,
as the herd of swine was doing,--a son worthy of the Fathers
of New England. I think of him as a kind of tall pillar,
on a foundation of such granite solidity as to quiet all fears
of possible moving therefrom. He was an example--and became
by his S. Carolina mission a conspicuous one; by his attitude
and demeanor, opposing the whole moral power of the North
to the despotic and insolent assumptions of Slavery.
Yours very truly,
SAML MAY.
My father, in everything that related to his own conduct,
was controlled by a more than Puritan austerity. He seemed
to live for nothing but duty. Yet he was a man of strong
affections, unlike what is generally deemed to be the character
of the Puritan. He was gentle, tolerant, kindly and affectionate.
He had all his life a large professional income. But he never
seemed to care for money. In that respect he was like one
who dwelt by the side of a pond, ready to dip up and to give
its waters to any man who might thirst. He never wasted money,
or spent it for any self-indulgence. But he was ready to
share it with any deserving object. Starr King said of him
that "he lived all the beatitudes daily."
Mr. Hoar was, I suppose, beyond all question, the highest
authority in New England, indeed in the whole country, on
the difficult and abstruse questions belonging to the law of
water privileges and running streams. He was declared to
be such by the late Judge Benjamin R. Curtis. The great Locks
and Canals Company was organized and all the arrangements
for the ownership, management and control of the water-power
of Lowell were made under his advice and direction. The same
methods have been followed in substance at Lawrence and Woonsocket
and other manufacturing places.
He preserved his vigor of body until he entered his seventy-
seventh year, taking walks of five or six miles without fatigue.
About that time he took a severe cold at a neighbor's funeral.
An illness followed which seriously impaired his strength.
He died, November 2, 1856, two days before the Presidential
election.
He was six feet three inches in height, erect, with fine
gray hair, blue eyes, of graceful and dignified deportment,
and of great courtesy, especially to women and children.
He held a few simple beliefs with undoubting faith. He submitted
himself to the rule of life which followed from these, and
rigorously exacted obedience to it from all for whom he was
responsible. He accepted the exposition of Christian doctrine
given by Dr. Channing. The Massachusetts Constitution of
1780 seemed to him a nearly perfect system of government.
He earnestly resisted, in the Convention of 1820, the abolition
of the property qualification for voters, and of the obligation
of all citizens to be taxed for the support of religious worship.
He took early and deep interest in the temperance reform,
and gave much time, labor, and money to promote it. "The
strength and beauty of the man," says Mr. Emerson, "lay in
the natural goodness and justice of his mind, which in manhood
and in old age, after dealing all his life with weighty private
and public interests, left an infantile innocence of which
we have no second or third example,--the strength of a chief
united to the modesty of a child. He returned from the courts
and Congresses to sit down with unaltered humility, in the
church, or in the town-house, on the plain wooden bench,
where Honor came and sat down beside him. He was a man in
whom so rare a spirit of justice visibly dwelt, that, if one
had met him in a cabin or in a court, he must still seem a
public man answering as a sovereign state to sovereign state;
and might easily suggest Milton's picture of John Bradshaw,
--'that he was a consul from whom the fasces did not depart
with the year, but in private seemed ever sitting in judgment
on kings.'"
But he would have liked better than anything else what was
said of him in his official report by the President of the
College he loved with that deep affection which her children
felt for her in his time. President Walker closes his annual
report of December 31, 1856, as follows: "The undersigned
could not conclude his report without allusion to the recent
lamented death of the Honorable Samuel Hoar, a distinguished
and justly influential member of this board,--venerable alike
for his age and his virtues,--a devoted friend of the College
which he has been able to serve in a thousand ways by the
wisdom of his counsels and the weight of his character."
Mr. Hoar was naturally conservative, as would be expected
as an old Federalist who was educated at Harvard in the beginning
of the nineteenth century. His rules of public and private
conduct were strict and austere. He applied them more strictly
to himself than to others. His classmates in college used
to call him Cato. He favored the suppression of the sale
and use of intoxicating liquors, and desired that the whole
force of the State should be brought to bear to accomplish
that end. He was the inveterate foe of oppression, and in
his later years, opposed every compromise with slavery. But
he had no sympathy with reforms which seemed to him to be
devised merely as political instruments to advance the fortunes
of persons or parties.
He had a huge respect for John Quincy Adams, a respect which
I have good reason to know was reciprocated. But he was by
no means Mr. Adams's blind follower. The ex-President, I think
about the year 1832, published a pamphlet in which he savagely
attacked the Masonic Order. He met Mr. Hoar in Boston and
asked him what he thought of it. Mr. Hoar answered: "It
seems to me, Mr. Adams, there is but one thing in the world
sillier than Masonry. That is Anti-Masonry."
Mr. Hoar used to relate with some amusement a dialogue he
had with a shrewd and witty old lawyer named Josiah Adams,
who shared the old Federalist dislike of his namesake, John
Quincy Adams. My father was talking quite earnestly in a
gathering of Middlesex lawyers and said: "I believe John Quincy
Adams means to be a Christian." "When?" inquired Josiah.
But I cannot draw the portraiture of this noble and stately
figure. George Herbert did it perfectly, long ago, in his
poem, "Constancy."
Old Dr. Lyman Beecher, the foremost champion in his day of
the old Orthodoxy, spent his life in combating what he deemed
the pestilent Unitarian heresy. He was the most famous preacher
in the country. Mr. Hoar was a pillar of Unitarianism. Yet
the Doctor came to know and honor his old antagonist. He
read in the Boston papers, late Saturday evening, that Mr.
Hoar was dying at Concord. Early Sunday morning before daybreak
he started, with his son-in-law, Professor Stowe, and drove
twenty miles to Concord. He got there just after Mr. Hoar's
death. He asked to go into the chamber where his old friend
lay. My sister said: "Father would have been glad to see
you, if he were alive." The Doctor gazed a moment, and then
said: "He's passed safe over, I haven't a doubt of it. He
was an Israelite indeed, in whom there was no guile."
CHAPTER IV
BOYHOOD IN CONCORD
I have never got over being a boy. It does not seem likely
that I ever shall. I have to-day, at the age of three score
and sixteen, less sense of my own dignity than I had when
at sixteen I walked for the first time into the College Chapel
at Harvard, clad as the statute required, in a "black or black-
mixed coat, with buttons of the same color," and the admiring
world, with its eyes on the venerable freshman, seemed to
me to be saying to itself, "Ecce caudam!" Behold the tail!
Most men are apt to exaggerate the merits of their birthplace.
But I think everybody who knew the town will agree with me
that there never was in the world a better example of a pure
and beautiful democracy, in the highest sense of the term,
than the town of Concord from 1826 to the close of the war.
If there were any aristocracy, it was an aristocracy of personal
worth. There was little wealth and little poverty. There
were no costly dwellings and no hovels. There was no pride
of wealth or of family. The richest man in town took an interest
in the affairs of the poorest as in those of a kinsman. It
never occurred to the poorest that he must, for that reason,
doff his hat to any man.
The population was permanent, I suppose, as could have been
found in any spot in Europe. Ninety-three of the inhabitants
of the town, in 1654, signed a paper pledging their persons
and estates to support the General Court in the contest with
King Charles II. for the preservation of the Charter. Fourteen
of their descendants, bearing the same names, were present
at the Centennial Celebration in 1885, dwelling on the land
which their ancestors occupied nearly 230 years before. There
were 23 others whose descendants of the same name were dwelling
at the time of the Centennial within the original limits of
the town. A good many others were represented by female descendants.
So that at least 50 of the 93 signers of the paper were represented
in the assembly. A list of the names of the principal inhabitants
of the town to-day would contain the names of a large number
of the principal inhabitants of any generation since its
foundation.
They were of good English stock. Many of them were of gentle
blood and entitled to bear coat armor at home. It is interesting
to observe how little the character of the gentleman and gentlewoman
in our New England people is affected by the pursuit, for
generations, of humble occupations, which in other countries
are deemed degrading. Our ancestors, during nearly two centuries
of poverty which followed the first settlement, turned their
hands to the humblest ways of getting a livelihood, became
shoemakers, or blacksmiths or tailors, or did the hardest
and most menial and rudest work of the farm, shoveled gravel
or chopped wood, without any of the effect on their character
which would be likely to be felt from the permanent pursuit
of such an occupation in England or Germany. It was like
a fishing party or a hunting party in the woods. When the
necessity was over, and the man or the boy in any generation
got a college education, or was called to take part in public
affairs, he rose at once and easily to the demands of an exalted
station. What is true of New England people in this respect
is, I suppose, true of the whole country.
I wrote, a few years ago, an account of so much of my boyhood
as elapsed before I went to college. Through the kindness
of the proprietors of _The Youth's Companion,_ I am permitted
to print it here. I think, on the whole, that is better than
to undertake to tell the story in other phraseology adapted
to maturer readers. Indeed, I am not sure that the best examples
of good English are not to be found in books written for children.
When we have to tell a story to a small boy or girl, we avoid
little pomposities, and seek for the plainest, clearest and
most direct phrase.
I believe that boys nowadays are more manly and mature than
they were in my time. Perhaps this is partly because the
boys show more gravity in my presence, now I am an old man,
than they did when I was a boy myself. But in giving an account
of the life of a boy sixty years ago, I must describe it as
I saw it, even if it appear altogether childish and undignified.
The life and character of a country are determined in a large
degree by the sports of its boys. The Duke of Wellington
used to say that the victory at Waterloo was won on the playing-
fields at Eton. That is the best people where the boys are
manly and where the men have a good deal of the boy in them.
Perhaps all my younger readers do not know how much that makes
up, not only the luxury, but the comfort of life, has first
come in within the memory of persons now living. The household
life of my childhood was not much better in those respects
than that of a well-to-do Roman or Greek. It had not improved
a great deal for two thousand years. There were no house-
warming furnaces, and stoves were almost unknown. There were
no double windows, and the houses were warmed by open fires.
There were no matches.
There were no water-pipes in the houses, and no provision
was made for discharging sewage. There were no railroads,
telegraphs or telephones. Letter postage to New York from
Boston was twenty-five cents. None of the modern agricultural
machinery then existed, not even good modern plows. Crops
were planted by hand and cultivated with the hoe and spade.
Vegetables were dug with the hoe, and hay and grain cut with
the sickle or scythe. There were no ice-houses. The use
of ice for keeping provisions or cooling water was unknown.
My father was well-to-do, and his household lived certainly
as well as any family in the town of Concord, where I was
born. I have no doubt a Roman boy two hundred years before
Christ, or an Athenian boy four hundred years before Christ,
lived quite as well as I did, if not better.
The boy got up in the morning and dressed himself in a room
into which the cold air came through the cracks in the window.
If the temperature were twenty degrees below zero outside,
it was very little higher inside. If he were big enough to
make the fires, he made his way down-stairs in the dark of
a winter morning and found, if the fire had been properly raked
up the night before, a few coals in the ashes in the kitchen
fireplace. The last person who went to bed the night before
had done exactly what Homer describes as the practice in Ulysses's
time, when he tells us that Ulysses covered himself with leaves
after he was washed ashore in Phaiakia:
"He lay down in the midst, heaping the fallen leaves above,
as a man hides a brand in a dark bed of ashes, at some outlying
farm where neighbors are not near, hoarding a seed of fire
to save his seeking elsewhere."
But first he must get a light. Matches are not yet invented.
So he takes from the shelf over the mantelpiece an old tin
or brass candlestick with a piece of tallow candle in it,
and with the tongs takes a coal from the ashes, and holds
the candle wick against the coal and gives a few puffs with
his breath. If he have good luck, he lights the wick, probably
after many failures.
My mother had a very entertaining story connected with the
old-fashioned way of getting a light. Old Jeremiah Mason,
who was probably the greatest lawyer we ever had in New England,
unless we except Daniel Webster, studied law in my uncle's
office and shared a room in his house with another law student.
One April Fool's day the two young gentlemen went out late
in the afternoon, and my aunt, a young unmarried girl who
lived with her sister, and another girl, went into the room
and took the old half-burnt candle out of the candlestick,
cut a piece of turnip to resemble it, cut out a little piece
like a wick at the end, blackened it with ink, and put it
in the candlestick.
When Mr. Mason came in in the dark, he took a coal up with
the tongs and put it against the wick, and puffed and puffed,
until after a long and vexatious trial he discovered what
was the matter. He said nothing but waited for his chum to
come in, who went through the same trial. When they discovered
the hoax they framed an elaborate complaint in legal jargon
against the two roguish girls, and brought them to trial before
a young lawyer of their acquaintance. The young ladies were
found guilty and sentenced to pay as a fine a bowl of eggnog.
After getting his candle lighted, the boy takes dry kindling,
which has been gathered the night before, and starts a fire.
The next thing is to get some water. He is lucky if the water
in the old cast-iron kettle which hangs on the crane in the
fireplace be not frozen. As soon as the fire is started he
goes outdoors to thaw out the pump, if they have a wooden
pump. But that is all frozen up, and he has to get some hot
water from this kettle to pour down over the piston till he
can thaw it out. Sometimes he would have an old-fashioned
well, sunk too low in the ground for the frost to reach it,
and could get water with the old oaken bucket.
He brings in from out-of-doors a pail or two of water. If
there has been a snow-storm the night before he has to shovel
a path to the wood-shed, where he can get the day's supply
of wood from outside, and then from the doors of the house
out to the street. Meantime the woman whose duty it is to
get breakfast makes her appearance.
The wooden pump, which took the place of the old well in many
dooryards, was considered a great invention. We all looked
with huge respect upon Sanford Adams of Concord, who invented
it, and was known all over the country.
He was quite original in his way. The story used to be told
of him that he called at my father's house one day to get
some advice as to a matter of law. Father was at dinner
and went to the door himself. Mr. Adams stated his case in
a word or two as he stood on the door-step, to which father
gave him his answer, the whole conversation not lasting more
than two minutes.
He asked Mr. Hoar what he should pay, and father said, "Five
dollars." Mr. Adams paid it at once, and father said, "By
the way, there is a little trouble with my pump. It does
not draw. Will you just look at it?" So Mr. Adams went
around the corner of the shed, moved the handle of the pump,
and put his hand down and fixed a little spigot which was
in the side, which had got loose, and the pump worked perfectly.
Father said, "Thank you, sir." To which Adams replied: "It
will be five dollars, Mr. Hoar," and father gave him back
the same bill he had just taken.
I am afraid the sympathy of the people who told the story
was with the pump-maker and not with the lawyer.
The great kitchen fireplace presented a very cheerful appearance
compared with the black range or stove of to-day. It was
from six to eight or ten feet wide, with a great chimney.
In many houses you could stand on the hearth and look up the
chimney and see the stars on a winter night. Across the fireplace
hung an iron crane, which swung on a hinge or pivot, from
which hung a large number of what were called pothooks and
trammels. From these were suspended the great kettles and
little kettles and the griddles and pots and boilers for the
cooking processes.
The roasting was done in a big "tin kitchen," which stood
before the fire, in which meats or poultry were held by a
large iron spit, which pierced them and which could be revolved
to present one side after the other to the blaze. Sometimes
there was a little clockwork which turned the spit automatically,
but usually it was turned round from time to time by the cook.
As you know, they used to have in England little dogs called
turnspits, trained to turn a wheel for this purpose. A little
door in the rear of this tin kitchen gave access for basting
the meat. In the large trough at the bottom the gravy was
caught.
No boy of that day will think there is any flavor like that
of roast turkey and chicken or of the doughnuts and pancakes
or griddle-cakes which were cooked by these open fires.
By the side of the fireplace, with a flue entering the chimney,
was a great brick oven, big enough to bake all the bread
needed by a large family for a week or ten days. The oven
was heated by a brisk fire made of birch or maple or some
very rapidly burning wood. When the coals were taken out,
the bread was put in, and the oven was shut with two iron
doors. The baking-day was commonly Saturday.
When the bread was taken out Saturday afternoon it was usual
to put in a large pot of beans for the Sunday dinner. They
were left there all night and the oven was opened in the morning
and enough came out for breakfast, when there was put into
the oven a pot of Indian pudding, which was left with the
rest of the beans for the Sunday dinner.
The parlor fire was a very beautiful sight, with the big
logs and the sparkling walnut or oak wood blazing up. Some
of the housekeepers of that time had a good deal of skill
in arranging the wood in a fireplace so as to make of it
a beautiful piece of architecture. Lowell describes these
old fires very well in his ballad, "The Courtin'":
A fireplace filled the room's one side
With half a cord o'wood in--
There warn't no stoves (till comfort died)
To bake ye to a puddin'.
The wannut logs shot sparkles out
Towards the pootiest, bless her!
An' leetle flames danced all about
The chiny on the dresser.
Agin' the chimbley crooknecks hung,
An' in amongst 'em rusted
The old queen's arm thet Gran'ther Young
Fetched back from Concord busted.
We did not have fireplaces quite as large as this in my father's
house, although they were common in the farmers' houses round
about.
In the coldest weather the heat did not come out a great
way from the hearth, and the whole family gathered close
about the fire to keep warm. It was regarded as a great
breach of good manners to go between any person and the fire.
The fireplace was the centre of the household, and was regarded
as the type and symbol of the home. The boys all understood
the force of the line:
Strike for your altars and your fires!
I wonder if any of my readers nowadays would be stirred by
an appeal to strike for his furnace or his air-tight stove.
Sunday was kept with Jewish strictness. The boys were not
allowed to go out-of-doors except to church. They could
not play at any game or talk about matters not pertaining
to religion. They were not permitted to read any books except
such as were "good for Sunday." There were very few religious
story-books in those days, and what we had were of a dreary
kind; so the boy's time hung heavy on his hands.
"Pilgrim's Progress," with its rude prints, was, however,
a great resource. We conned it over and over again, and knew
it by heart. An elder brother of mine who was very precocious
was extremely fond of it, especially of the picture of the
fight between Apollyon and Christian, where the fiend with
his head covered with stiff, sharp bristles "straddled clear
across the road," to stop Christian in his way. Old Dr. Lyman
Beecher, who had his stiff gray hair cropped short all over
his head, made a call at our house one afternoon. While he
was waiting for my mother to come down, the little fellow
came into the room and took a look up at the doctor, and then
trotted round to the other side and looked up at him again.
He said, "I think, sir, you look like Apollyon."
The doctor was infinitely amused at being compared to the
personage of whom, in his own opinion and that of a good many
other good people, he was then the most distinguished living
antagonist.
The church was an old-fashioned wooden building, painted yellow,
of Dutch architecture, with galleries on three sides, and
on the fourth a pulpit with a great sounding-board over it,
into which the minister got by quite a high flight of stairs.
Just below the pulpit was the deacons' seat, where the four
deacons sat in a row. The pews were old-fashioned square,
high pews, reaching up almost to the top of the head of a
boy ten years old when he was standing up.
The seats were without cushions and with hinges. When the
people stood up for prayer the seats were turned up for greater
convenience of standing, and when the prayer ended they came
down all over the church with a slam, like a small cannonade.
One Sunday, in the middle of the sermon, the old minister,
Doctor Ripley, stood up in the pulpit and said in a loud
voice, "Simeon, come here. Take your hat and come here."
Simeon was a small boy who lived in the doctor's family and
sat in the gallery. We boys all supposed that Simeon had
been playing in church, or had committed some terrible offence
for which he was to be punished in sight of the whole congregation.
Simeon came down trembling and abashed, and the doctor told
him to go home as fast as he could and get the Thanksgiving
Proclamation. The doctor filled up the time as well he could
with an enormously long prayer, until the boy got back. Simeon
confessed to some of the boys that he had been engaged in
some mischief just before he was called, and he was terribly
afraid the doctor had caught him.
This old church with its tower, yellow spire, old clock and
weathercock, seems to me as I look back on it to have been
a very attractive piece of architecture. It was that church
which suggested to Emerson the leading thought in one of
his most famous poems, "The Problem."
In those days, when people were to be married the law required
notice to be given of their intention by proclaiming it aloud
in the church three Sundays in succession. So just before
the service began, the old town clerk would get up and proclaim:
"There is a marriage intended between Mr. John Brown of this
town and Miss Sarah Smith of Sudbury," and there was great
curiosity in the congregation to hear the announcement. The
town clerk in my boyhood had been a wealthy old bachelor for
whom the young ladies had set their caps in vain for two generations.
One day he astonished the congregation by proclaiming: "There
is a marriage intended between Dr. Abiel Keywood"--which
was his own name--"and Miss Lucy P. Fay, both of Concord."
That was before I can remember, as his boys were about my
age.
Doctor Ripley, the minister in Concord, was an old man who
had been settled there during the Revolutionary War and was
over the parish sixty-two years. He was an excellent preacher
and scholar, and his kindly despotism was submitted to by
the whole town. His way of pronouncing would sound very queer
now, though it was common then. I well remember his reading
the lines of the hymn--
Let every critter jine
To praise the eternal God.
Scattered about the church were the good gray heads of many
survivors of the Revolution--the men who had been at the bridge
on the 19th of April, and who made the first armed resistance
to the British power. They were very striking and venerable
figures, with their queues and knee-breeches and shoes with
shining buckles. Men were more particular about their apparel
in those days than we are now. They had great stateliness
of behavior, and admitted of little familiarity.
They had heard John Buttrick's order to fire, which marked
the moment when our country was born. The order was given
to British subjects. It was obeyed by American citizens.
Among them was old Master Blood, who saw a ball strike the
water when the British fired their first volley. I heard
many of the old men tell their stories of the Battle of Concord,
and of the capture of Burgoyne.
I lay down on the grass one summer afternoon, when old Amos
Baker of Lincoln, who was in the Lincoln Company on the 19th
of April, told me the whole story. He was very indignant
at the claim that the Acton men marched first to attack the
British because the others hesitated. He said, "It was because
they had bagnets [bayonets]. The rest of us hadn't no bagnets."
One day a few years later, when I was in college, I walked
up from Cambridge to Concord, through Lexington, and had a
chat with old Jonathan Harrington by the roadside. He told
me he was on the Common when the British Regulars fired upon
the Lexington men. He did not tell me then the story which
he told afterward at the great celebration at Concord in 1850.
He and Amos Baker were the only survivors who were there that
day. He said he was a boy about fifteen years old on April
19, 1775. He was a fifer in the company. He had been up
the greater part of the night helping get the stores out of
the way of the British, who were expected, and went to bed
about three o'clock, very tired and sleepy. His mother came
and pounded with her fist on the door of his chamber, and
said, "Git up, Jonathan! The Reg'lars are comin' and somethin'
must be done!"
Governor Briggs repeated this anecdote in the old man's presence
at the Concord celebration in 1850. Charles Storey, a noted
wit, father of the eminent lawyer, Moorfield Storey, sent
up to the chair this toast: "When Jonathan Harrington got
up in the morning on April 19, 1775, a near relative and namesake
of his got up about the same time: Brother Jonathan. But
his mother didn't call him."
A very curious and amusing incident is said, and I have no
doubt truly, to have happened at this celebration. It shows
how carefully the great orator, Edward Everett, looked out
for the striking effects in his speech. He turned in the
midst of his speech to the seat where Amos Baker and Jonathan
Harrington sat, and addressed them. At once they both stood
up, and Mr. Everett said, with fine dramatic effect, "Sit,
venerable friends. It is for us to stand in your presence."
After the proceedings were over, old Amos Baker was heard
to say to somebody, "What do you suppose Squire Everett meant?
He came to us before his speech and told us to stand up when
he spoke to us, and when we stood up he told us to sit down."
So you will understand how few lives separate you from the
time when our country was born, and the time when all our
people were British subjects.
But to come back to our old meeting-house. The windows rattled
in the winter, and the cold wind came in through the cracks.
There was a stove which was rather a modern innovation; but
it did little to temper the coldness of a day in midwinter.
We used to carry to church a little foot-stove with a little
tin pan in it, which we filled with coal from the stove in
the meeting-house, and the ladies of the family would pass
it round to each other to keep their toes from freezing; but
the boys did not get much benefit from it.
They had good schools in Concord, and the boys generally
were good scholars and read good books. So whenever they
thought fit they could use as good language as anybody; but
their speech with one another was in the racy, pithy Yankee
dialect, which Lowell has made immortal in the "Biglow Papers."
It was not always grammatical, but as well adapted for conveying
wit and humor and shrewd sense as the Scotch of Burns.
The boys knew very well how to take the conceit or vanity
out of their comrades. In the summer days all the boys of
the village used to gather at a place on the river, known as
Thayer's swimming-place, about half a mile from the town
pump, which was the centre from which all distances were
measured in those days. There was a little gravel beach
where you could wade out a rod or two, and then for a rod
or two the water was over the boy's head. It then became
shallow again near the opposite bank. So it was a capital
place to learn to swim.
After they came out, the boys would sit down on the bank
and have a sort of boys' exchange, in which all matters of
interest were talked over, and a great deal of good-natured
chaff was exchanged. Any newcomer had to pass through an
ordeal of this character, in which his temper and quality
were thoroughly tried. I remember now an occasion which
must have happened when I was not more than eight or ten
years old, when a rather awkward-looking greenhorn had come
down from New Hampshire and made his appearance at the swimming-
place. The boys, one after another, tried him by putting
mocking questions or attempting to humbug him with some large
story. He received it all with patience and good nature until
one remark seemed to sting him from his propriety. He turned
with great dignity upon the offender, and said, "Was that
you that spoke, or was it a punkin busted?" We all thought
that it was well said, and took him into high favor.
I suppose the outdoor winter sports have not changed much
since my childhood. The sluggish Concord River used to overflow
its banks and cover the broad meadows for miles, where we
found excellent skating, and where the water would be only
a foot or two in depth. The boys could skate for ten miles
to Billerica and ten miles back, hardly going over deep water,
except at the bridges, the whole way.
Sleigh-riding was not then what it is now. There were a
few large sleighs owned in the town which would hold thirty
or forty persons, and once or twice in the winter the boys
and girls would take a ride to some neighboring town when
the sleighing was good.
The indoor games were marbles, checkers, backgammon, dominoes,
hunt-the-slipper, blind-man's-buff, and in some houses, where
they were not too strict, they played cards. High-low-jack,
sometimes called all-fours or seven-up, everlasting and old
maid were the chief games of cards. Most of these games have
come down from a very early antiquity.
The summer outdoor games were mumble-the-peg, high-spy, snap-
the-whip, a rather dangerous performance, in which a long
row of boys, with the biggest boy at one end, and tapering
down to the smallest at the other end, would run over a field
or open space until suddenly the big boy would stop, turn
half around, and stand still and hold fast with all his might.
The result was that the boy next to him had to move a very
little distance, but the little fellow at the end was compelled
to describe a half-circle with great rapidity, and was sometimes
hurled across the field, and brought up with a heavy fall.
There were thread-the-needle, hunt-the-red-lion and football,
played very much as it is now, except with less system and
discipline, and various games of ball. These games of ball
were much less scientific and difficult than the modern games.
Chief were four-old-cat, three-old-cat, two-old-cat and base.
We had fewer studies at our school than now. The boy who
did not go to college learned to read and write, perhaps
an elementary history of the United States, and arithmetic,
and occasionally made some little progress in algebra. On
Saturdays we used to "speak pieces." Our favorites were
some spirited lyric, like "Scots Wha Hae" or Pierpont's "Stand,
the ground's your own, my braves," "The boy stood on the burning
deck," and "Bernardo del Carpio." Sometimes, though not often,
some comic piece was chosen, like Jack Downing's "Tax on Old
Bachelors."
Those who fitted for college added Latin and Greek to these
studies. The children were sent to school earlier than is
the present fashion, and had long school hours and few vacations.
There were four vacations in the year, of a week each, and
three days at Thanksgiving time. Little account was made
of Christmas. The fashion of Christmas presents was almost
wholly unknown. The boys used to be allowed to go out of
school to study in the warm summer days, and would find some
place in a field, and sometimes up in the belfry of the little
schoolhouse. I remember studying Caesar there with George
Brooks, afterward judge, and reading with him an account of
some battle where Caesar barely escaped being killed, on which
Brooks's comment was "I wish to thunder he had been!"
I am afraid the boys did not respect the property of the
owners of the neighboring apple orchards, as undoubtedly
the better-trained boys of modern times do now. We understood
the law to be that all apples that grew on the branches extending
over the highway were public property, and I am afraid that
when the owner was not about we were not very particular as
to the boundary line. This seems to have been a trait of
boy nature for generations. You know Sidney Smith's account
of the habit of boys at his school to rob a neighboring orchard,
until the farmer bought a large, savage bulldog for his protection.
Some of the big boys told Sidney that if a boy would get down
on his hands and knees and go backward toward the dog the
dog would be frightened, and he could get the apples. He
tried the experiment unsuccessfully, and with the result that
concluded, as he says, that "it makes no difference to a bulldog
which end of a boy he gets hold of, if he only gets a good
hold."
The discipline of the schoolmaster in those days was pretty
severe. For slight offences the boys were deprived of their
recess or compelled to study for an hour after the school
was dismissed. The chief weapon of torture was the ferule,
to the efficacy of which I can testify from much personal
knowledge. The master had in his desk, however, a cowhide
for gross cases. I do not remember knowing how that felt
from personal experience, but I remember very well seeing
it applied occasionally to the big boys.
In the infant schools, which were kept by women, of course
the discipline was not expected to be so severe. The schoolmistress
in those days wore what was called a busk--a flat piece of
lancewood, hornbeam, or some other like tough and elastic
wood, thrust into a sort of pocket or sheath in her dress,
which came up almost to the chin and came down below the waist.
This was intended to preserve the straightness and grace of
her figure. When the small boy misbehaved, the schoolma'am
would unsheath this weapon, and for some time thereafter the
culprit found sitting down exceedingly uncomfortable.
Sometimes the sole of the schoolmistress's slipper answered
the same purpose, and sometimes a stick from some neighboring
birch-tree. It all came to pretty much the same thing in
the end. The schoolmistress knew well how to accomplish her
purpose. There was a diversity of gifts but the same spirit.
We were put to school much earlier than children are now
and were more advanced in our studies on the whole. I began
to study Latin on my sixth birthday. When I was nine years
old I was studying Greek, and had read several books of Virgil.
We were not very thorough Latin scholars, even when we entered
college, but could translate Virgil and Cicero and Caesar
and easy Greek like Xenophon.
The boys occasionally formed military companies and played
soldier, but these did not, so far as I remember, last very
long. There was also a company of Indians, who dressed in
long white shirts, with pieces of red flannel sewn on them.
They had wooden spears. That was more successful, and lasted
some time.
They were exceedingly fond of seeing the real soldiers. There
were two full companies in Concord, the artillery and the
light infantry. The artillery had two cannon captured from
the British, which had been presented to the company by the
legislature in honor of April 19, 1775. When these two companies
paraded, they were followed by an admiring train of small
boys all day long, if the boys could get out of school. I
remember on one occasion there was a great rivalry between
the companies, and one of them got the famous Brigade Band
from Boston, and the other an equally famous band, called
the Boston Brass Band, in which Edward Kendall, the great
musician, was the player on the bugle. A very great day indeed
was the muster-day, when sometimes an entire brigade would
be called out for drill. These muster-days happened three
or four times in my boyhood in Concord.
But the great day of all was what was called "Cornwallis,"
which was the anniversary of the capture of Cornwallis at
Yorktown. There were organized companies in uniform representing
the British army and an equally large number of volunteers,
generally in old-fashioned dress, and with such muskets and
other accoutrements as they could pick up, who represented
the American army. There was a parade and a sham fight which
ended as all such fights, whether sham or real, should end,
in a victory for the Americans, and Cornwallis and his troops
were paraded, captive and ignominious. I quite agree with
Hosea Biglow when he says, "There is a fun to a Cornwallis,
though; I aint agoin' to deny it."
The boys cared little for politics, though they used to profess
the faith of their fathers; but every boy sometimes imagined
himself a soldier, and his highest conception of glory was
to "lick the British." I remember walking home from school
with a squad of little fellows at the time Andrew Jackson
issued his famous message, when he threatened war if the French
did not pay us our debt. We discussed the situation with
great gravity, and concluded that if the French beat us, we
should have a king to rule over us.
Besides the two military companies, there was another called
the "Old Shad." The law required every able-bodied man of
military age to turn out for military training and inspection
on the last Wednesday in May; they turned out just to save
the penalty of the law, and used to dress in old clothes,
and their awkward evolutions were the object of great scorn
to the small boy of the time.
The streets of Concord were made lively by the stage-coaches
and numerous teams. There were four taverns in the town,
all well patronized, with numerous sleeping-rooms. Two of
them had large halls for dancing. A great many balls were
given, to which persons came from the neighboring towns.
There was an excellent fiddler named John Wesson, who continued
to give the benefit of his talent to all parties, public and
private, down to the time of the war, when he said he would
not play a dancing tune till the boys came home. He died
soon after, and I do not know whether his music was ever heard
again. These taverns were crowded with guests. One principal
route for stages and teams to New Hampshire, Vermont and Canada
passed through Concord.
There were several lines of stages, one from Lowell to Framingham,
and two at least from Boston. The number of passengers, which
now are all carried by rail, was so large that extras were
frequently necessary. The teams were very often more than
the barns of the taverns in the town could accommodate, and
on summer nights the wagons would extend for long distances
along the village street with horses tied behind them.
The sound of the toddy stick was hardly interrupted in the
barroom inside from morning till night. The temperance reform
had not made great headway in my youthful days. It was not
uncommon to see farmers, bearing names highly respected in
the town, lying drunk by the roadside on a summer afternoon,
or staggering along the streets. The unpainted farmhouses
and barns had their broken windows stuffed with old hats or
garments. I have heard Nathan Brooks, who delivered the first
temperance lecture in the town, at the request of the selectmen,
say that after it was over he and the selectmen and some of
the principal citizens went over to the tavern, and each took
a mug of flip.
There were great quantities of huckleberries in the pastures
about Concord, and the sweet high blackberries abounded by
the roadside. There were plenty of chestnuts in the woods,
and the walnut, or pig-nut, also abounded; so that berrying
and nutting were favorite pastimes.
When I was a small boy a party of us went down to Walden woods,
afterward so famous as the residence of Henry Thoreau. There
was an old fellow named Tommy Wyman, who lived in a hut near
the pond, who did not like the idea of having the huckleberry-
fields near him invaded by the boys. He told us it was not
safe for us to go there. He said there was an Indian doctor
in the woods who caught small boys and cut out their livers
to make medicine. We were terribly frightened, and all went
home in a hurry.
When we got near the town, we met old John Thoreau, with his
son Henry, and I remember his amusement when I told him the
story. He said, "If I meet him, I will run this key down
his throat," producing a key from his pocket. We reported
the occurrence at the village store, but were unable to excite
any interest in the subject.
Thanksgiving was then, as it is and ought to be now, the
great day of the year. All the children were at home. The
ambition of the head of the house was to get the largest
turkey that money could buy. No Thanksgiving dinner was
quite complete unless there were a baby on hand belonging
to some branch of the family, no bigger than the turkey.
The preparation for Thanksgiving was very interesting to
the small boy mind. A boiled or roasted turkey, a pair of
chickens, chicken pie, wonderful cranberry sauce, a plum
pudding, and all manner of apple pies, mince pies, squash
pies, pumpkin pies, and nuts, raisins, figs and noble apples
made part of the feast. I suppose Thanksgiving customs have
changed less than most others, except in one particular.
I do not believe there is a small boy's stomach in this generation
that can hold a tenth part of what used to go into mine, not
only on Thanksgiving day, but on the days before and after.
The raisins were to be picked over, the nuts and citron got
ready, when Thanksgiving was coming on, of all which we took
abundant tolls. The cold and warmed-over dishes lasted through
the rest of the week. I do not know what the Jewish festival
or the old Roman banquets might have been, but they could
not have equalled a New England Thanksgiving week in a house
in the country.
The doctor in those days was a terror to the small boy. The
horrible and nasty castor oil, ipecac and calomel, and the
salts and senna, sulphur and molasses taken three mornings
in succession and then missed three mornings, were worse than
any sickness. Of the last I speak only from hearsay, not
from personal knowledge. Then the cupping and bleeding were
fearful things to go through or look upon. We had none of
the sweet patent medicines that the children now cry for,
and none of the smooth capsules or the pleasant comfits that
turn medicine into confectionery nowadays.
The boys were not allowed in most families to read novels,
even on week-days. My father had a great dislike of fiction
of all sorts, and for a good while would not tolerate any
novels in the house; but one winter day he went to Pepperell,
in the northern part of the county, to try a case before a
sheriff's jury. About the time the case got through there
came up a sudden and violent snowstorm, which blocked up the
road with deep drifts so that he could not get home for two
or three days. He had to stay at a small country tavern,
and the time hung very heavily on his hands.
He asked the landlord if he had any books. The only one
he could find was a first volume of Scott's "Redgauntlet,"
which was just then being published in Boston by a bookseller
named Parker, in what was called Parker's revised edition.
Father read it with infinite delight. His eyes were opened
to the excellence of Scott. He got home the next day at
about noon, and immediately sent one of the children down
to the circulating library to get the second volume. He
subscribed to Parker's edition, and was a great lover of Scott
ever after.
We were permitted, however, to read the "Tales of a Grandfather."
I hope if any boy reads this book he will read the "Tales
of a Grandfather," especially the parts which give the history
of Scotland. It is a most interesting and noble story. I
can remember now how the tears ran down my cheeks as I read
Scott's description of finding the bones of Robert Bruce in
the old abbey at Dunfermline:
"As the church would not hold half the numbers, the people
were allowed to pass through it one after another, that each
one, the poorest as well as the richest, might see all that
remained of the great king, Robert Bruce. Many people shed
tears; for there was the wasted skull which once was the head,
that thought so wisely and boldly for his country's deliverance;
and there was the dry bone which had once been the sturdy
arm that killed Sir Henry de Bohun, between the two armies,
at a single blow on the evening before the Battle of Bannockburn."
I account it one of the chief blessings of my life that my
boyhood was spent in the pure, noble and simple society of
the people of Concord. I am afraid I did not do it much
credit then. Old Dr. Bartlett, one of the worthiest and
kindliest of men, but who always uttered what was in his
heart, said after my two oldest brothers and I had grown
up, that Samuel Hoar's boys used to be the three biggest
rascals in Concord, but they all seemed to have turned out
pretty well. I have so far kept this statement strictly from
the knowledge of the Democratic papers. But I suppose it
is too late to do any harm now.
CHAPTER V
FAMOUS CONCORD MEN
There were in Concord in my boyhood three writers who afterward
became very famous indeed--Emerson, Hawthorne and Thoreau.
Mr. Lowell said that these three names shine among all others
in American literature as the three blazing stars in the belt
of Orion shine in the sky.
The town is represented in the beautiful building of the
Congressional Library at Washington by busts of Emerson and
Hawthorne on the outside front of the building; by Emerson's
name on the mosaic ceiling in the entrance pavilion, and by
three sentences from his writings inscribed on the walls.
There are two out of eight such busts. It is also represented
by two figures, a symbolic Statue of History, and a bronze
Statue of Herodotus, both by Daniel Chester French, the sculptor,
a Concord man.
Emerson came to live in Concord in the summer of 1835. Although
he was born in Boston and went to school there, he belonged
to the town by virtue of his descent from a race of Concord
ministers who held the pulpit, with very brief intervals,
from 1635 to 1841. But I do not think his influence upon
the town was very great for the first fifteen or twenty years
of his life there. Indeed, I think he would have said that
the town had more influence upon him than he had upon it.
The Concord people, like the general public, were slow in
coming to know his great genius. He was highly respected
always. But the people were at first puzzled by him. His
life was somewhat secluded. He spent his days in study and
in solitary walks. Until Mrs. Ripley came to the old manse,
about 1846, Emerson had, I think, no intimate friend outside
of his own household, except my sister Elizabeth, who had
been betrothed to his brother Charles, and was as a sister
to Emerson until her death in 1878. A good many allusions
to her will be found in his life and in his letters to Carlyle.
After she died and shortly before his own death he appeared
at my brother's house one day with a manuscript which he had
handed to the Judge. He had gone over his diary for a great
many years and extracted and copied everything in it which
related to her.
He used to read lectures to the Lyceum, and in reading his
books now I find a great many passages which I remember to
have heard him read in my youthful days. In one of his lectures
upon Plato, he said that he turned everything to the use of
his philosophy, that "wife, children and friends were all
ground into paint"--alluding to Washington Allston's story
of the Paint King who married a lovely maiden that he might
make paint of the beautiful color of her cheeks.
A worthy farmer's wife in the audience took this literally,
and left the room in high dudgeon. She said she thought
Waldo Emerson might be in better business than holding up
to the people of Concord the example of a wicked man who ground
his wife and children into paint.
In Emerson's later days he was undoubtedly a powerful educational
influence in the town. He was a man of much public spirit.
In his philosophy his "soul was like a star and dwelt apart."
But he had a heart full of human affections. He loved the
town. He loved his country. He loved his family. He loved
his neighbors and friends. He could be stirred deeply on
fit occasions by righteous indignation. Some of the men
who frequented the tavern, posted in the barroom a scurrilous
libel upon old Dr. Bartlett, the venerable physician, who
had incurred their hostility by his zeal in enforcing the
prohibitory laws. Emerson heard of it and repaired to the
spot and tore down the offensive paper with his own hand.
After Wendell Phillips made an equally scurrilous attack
on Judge Hoar, Emerson refused to take his hand.
In his lament for his beautiful boy he uttered the voice of
parental sorrow in immortal accents. In the poems, "In Memoriam,"
and in "The Dirge," he records how lonely the lovely Concord
Valley is to him since his brothers are gone as he wanders
there in the long sunny afternoon:
Harken to you pine warbler,
Singing aloft in the tree!
Hearest thou, O, traveller,
What he singeth to me?
Not unless God made sharp thine ear
With sorrow such as mine,
Out of that delicate lay couldst thou
Its heavy tale divine.
But I think that the life of his younger brother Charles,
though he died so early, was felt as an even greater force in
Concord than that of Waldo.
I hope I may be pardoned if I put on record here a slight
and imperfect tribute to the memory of Charles Emerson, who
was betrothed to my eldest sister. It is nearly seventy
years ago. Yet the sweet and tender romance is still fresh
in my heart. He was a descendant of a race of Concord clergymen,
including Peter Bulkeley, the founder of the town. He was
born in Boston, but spent much of his youth in Concord in
the household of Dr. Ripley, who was the second husband of
the grandmother of the Emersons. He studied law partly at
Cambridge Law School, partly in Daniel Webster's office in
Boston, and afterward with my father in Concord. When my
father took his seat in Congress, in 1835, Emerson succeeded
to his office, and if he had lived would have succeeded to
his practice. Waldo Emerson had left it on record that he
was led to choose Concord as a dwelling-place to be near his
brother. Waldo's house had been enlarged to make room for
Charles and his bride under the same roof. The house was
ready and the wedding near at hand when, in riding from Boston
to Concord on top of the stage, Charles took a violent cold,
which was followed by pleurisy and death. He was of a very
sociable nature, knew all the town people, lectured before
the Lyceum, had a class in the Sunday-school and used to speak
in the Lyceum debates. He had a very pleasant wit. He was
on the committee for the celebration of the settlement of
the town in 1835, at the end of two hundred years, and about
the same time was on a committee to attend the celebration
at Acton, where the people claimed for themselves all the
glory of the Concord Fight. He had thought it likely the
Acton people would ask him to speak. But they did not. As
he was riding back in the chaise, he said if they had asked
him to speak, he had it in mind to give as a toast, "The blessed
Memory of the Pilgrim Fathers, who first landed at Acton."
He was especially fond of boys, and they of him. When he
died, every schoolboy thought he had lost a friend. One
had a knife and another a book or a picture which he prized,
and another a pair of skates which Charles Emerson had given
him. It may be a fond exaggeration, but I think he was the
most brilliant intellect ever born in Massachusetts.
Mr. Webster, who was consulted as to where Emerson should
settle, said, "Settle! Let him settle anywhere. Let him
settle in the midst of the back woods of Maine, the clients
will throng after him." Mr. Everett delivered an eloquent
eulogy after his death, at the Phi Beta Kappa dinner at Harvard.
Dr. Holmes' exquisite tribute in his Phi Beta poems is well
known:
Thou calm, chaste scholar! I can see thee now,
The first young laurels on they pallid brow,
O'er thy slight figure floating lightly down
In graceful folds the academic gown,
On thy curled lip the classic lines that taught
How nice the mind that sculptured them with thought,
And triumph glistening in the clear blue eye,
Too bright to live,--but Oh! too fair to die.
Dr. Holmes also says in his last tribute to Waldo:
"Of Charles Chauncey, the youngest brother, I knew something
in my college days. A beautiful, high-souled, pure, exquisitely
delicate nature in a slight but finely wrought mortal frame,
he was for me the very ideal of an embodied celestial intelligence.
I may venture to mention a trivial circumstance, because it
points to the character of his favorite reading, which was
likely to be guided by the same tastes as his brother's, and
may have been specially directed by him. Coming into my room
one day, he took up a copy of Hazlitt's British Poets. He
opened it to the poem of Andrew Marvell's, entitled, 'The
Nymph Complaining for the Death of her Fawn,' which he read
to me with delight irradiating his expressive features. The
lines remained with me, or many of them, from that hour,--
Had it lived long, it would have been
Lilies without, roses within.
"I felt as many have felt after being with his brother, Ralph
Waldo, that I had entertained an angel visitant. The fawn
of Marvell's imagination survives in my memory as the fitting
image to recall this beautiful youth; a soul glowing like
the rose of morning with enthusiasm, a character white as
the lilies in its purity."
The late Samuel May, who was in the class after Emerson's
at Harvard, told me that the impression his character and
person made upon the students of his time was so great that
when he passed through the college yard, everybody turned
to look after him, as in later days men looked after Webster
when he passed down State Street.
The Rev. Joseph H. Cross, now (1903) still living, the oldest
graduate of Harvard, was his classmate. I received this letter
from him a few years ago:
66 BRADFORD ST., LAWRENCE,
January 8, 1897.
HON. G. F. HOAR,
_Dear Sir:_
Yours of 5th inst. is before me; and I am glad to remember
my classmate Emerson and answer your inquiries. I knew that
he studied law in your Honored Father's office, and was betrothed
to your eldest sister.
Your first inquiry is "as to his looks." He was above medium
height, well proportioned and straight as an arrow, brown
hair and clear blue eyes, with fair complexion and handsome
features. "His scholarship and talents," both of the highest
order. The class regarded him as the first and best scholar,
dignified and refined in manners, courteous and amiable in
spirit. He had great influence in his own class, and was
much esteemed and beloved by all. I think the impression
he made upon all who knew him was that of a classical scholar
and a perfect gentleman.
Dr. Channing said when he died that all New England mourned
his loss.
Although Charles was seven years the younger, his brother
Waldo speaks of him as his own master and teacher. The following
letter was written by Waldo to his aunt Mary just after Charles's
death. A part of it is printed in Cabot's Biography. Waldo
and my sister, Elizabeth, heard of the extremity of his danger,
and were on their way to see him, but arrived too late to
find him alive.
"12 May.
"You have already heard that E. and I arrived too late to
see Charles. He died on Monday afternoon, immediately after
returning from a ride with Mother. He got out of the coach
alone, walked up the steps and into the house without assistance,
then sat down upon the stairs, fainted and never recovered.
Yesterday afternoon we attended his funeral, and that is the
end on this side Heaven, of his extraordinary promise, the
union of such shining gifts,--grace and genius, and sense
and virtue. What a loss is this to us all--to Elizabeth and
Mother and you and me. In him I have lost all my society.
I sought no other and formed my habits to live with him. I
deferred to him on so many questions and trusted him more
than myself, that I feel as if I had lost the best part of
myself. In him were the foundations of so solid a confidence
and friendship that all the years of life leaned upon him.
His genius too was a fountain inexhaustible of thoughts and
kept me ever curious and expectant. Nothing was too great,
nothing too beautiful for his grasp or his expression, and
as brilliant as his power of illustration was, he stuck like
a mathematician to his truth and never added a syllable for
display. I cannot tell you how much I have valued his conversation
for these last two or three years, and he has never stopped
growing, but has ripened from month to month. Indeed, the
weight of his thoughts and the fresh and various forms in
which he constantly clothed them has made Shakespeare more
conceivable to me, as Shakespeare was almost the only genius
whom he wholly loved. His taste was unerring. What he called
good was good, but so severe was it that very few works and
very few men could satisfy him, and this because his standard
was a pure ideal beauty and he never forgot himself so far
as to accept any lower actual one in lieu of it. But I must
not begin yet to enumerate his perfections. I shall not know
where to stop, and what would be bare truth to me would sound
on paper like the fondest exaggeration.
"I mourn for the Commonwealth, which has lost before it yet
had learned his name the promise of his eloquence and rare
public gifts. He blessed himself that he had been bred from
infancy as it were in the public eye, and he looked forward
to the debates in the Senate on great political questions
as to his fit and native element. And with reason, for in
extempore debate his speech was music, and the precision,
the flow and the elegance of his discourse equally excellent.
Familiar as I was with his powers, when a year ago I first
heard him take part in a debate, he surprised me with his
success. He spoke so well that he was impatient of writing
as not being a fit medium for him. I never shall hear such
speaking as his, for his memory was a garden of immortal
flowers, and all his reading came up to him as he talked, to
clear, elevate and decorate the subject of his present thought.
But I shall never have done describing, as I see well I shall
never cease grieving as long as I am on the earth that he
has left it. It seems no longer worth living in, if whatever
delights us in it departs. He has quitted forever the apparent,
the partial. He has gone to make acquaintance with the real,
the good, the divine, and to find mates and co-operators such
as we could not offer him."
Charles Emerson entered with zeal and sympathy into the daily
life of the people of Concord. He delivered a few lectures,
which were quite celebrated. Some of his manuscripts are
in existence, and there is a boyish essay or two in the _Harvard
Magazine,_ one on Conversation and one on Friendship, which
show a singular charm and simplicity of style. He wrote the
epitaph on the tomb of Professor Ashmun at Mount Auburn, and
a tribute to his friend, James Jackson, Jr., which is preserved
in Jackson's memoir by his father.
Miss Martineau, in a chapter of her autobiography written
in 1836, describes the feeling in Boston in regard to the
opposition to slavery, which seems now incredible even to
those who remember it. She says:
"The Emersons, for the adored Charles Emerson was living then,
were not men to join an association for any object . . . . But
at the time of the hubbub against me in Boston, Charles Emerson
stood alone of a large company in defence of free thought
and speech, and declared that he had rather see Boston in
ashes than that I or anybody should be debarred in any way
from perfectly free speech."
Robert C. Winthrop, who was Charles Emerson's intimate friend
in boyhood, wrote for the _Advertizer_ a beautiful obituary
notice. He says: "Emerson was eminently a man of genius.
We know not that in his riper years he ever wrote a line of
poetry, but no one could have listened to him, either in private
or public without feeling that he had a poet's power; while
his prose composition was of so pure and finished a style
as to show plainly that close perusal of the English Classics
in which he so much delighted . . . . One opinion which Mr.
Emerson had early formed, and which had he been spared to
mature life might have contributed much to his eminence may,
in the sad event which has occurred, have contracted the circle
of his fame . . . . He had formed in his own mind a standard
of education far beyond that which can be completed, even
by the most faithful application, within the ordinary rounds
of school and college--an education in which every man must
be mainly his own master. In the work of this enlarged self-
education he was engaged, and, until it was finished, he shrunk
from the appearance of attempting to instruct others. He
had in him all the elements which would have insured the success
of early efforts at display--a fluent speech, a fine elocution,
quick conception, a brilliant fancy. But his ambition, . . .
while it aspired to a lofty eminence, was content to see that
eminence still in the distance." Mr. Winthrop adds, "Principle,
unyielding and uncompromising principle, was the very breath
of his soul, and pervaded and animated his whole intellectual
system . . . . He openly professed what he believed, and he acted
up to his professions. He not only held conscience the guide
of his life, but he took care to school and discipline that
conscience so that its dictates should always conform to truth,
to duty, to the laws of God. He was an honorable, high-minded,
virtuous man--a sincere and devout Christian . . . . He has
fallen at the very gate of an honorable and eminent career,
and a thousand hopes are buried in his grave."
A few years before Mr. Winthrop died I met him in Cambridge,
at the Peabody Museum, of which we were both trustees. The
trustees were gathered in their room waiting for the meeting
to be called to order. Mr. Winthrop was talking about his
college days. I asked him how it happened that there were
so many distinguished persons, in various departments of excellence,
who were graduated from Harvard about his time, in his class
and in the few classes following and preceding. I said that
sometimes there would be several orators, or eminent men of
science, or eminent classical scholars, or eminent teachers,
graduated about the same time, and their excellence would
be attributed to some one instructor; but that in his time
there seemed to be a crop of great men in all departments
of life--in natural history, in the pulpit, the bar, in oratory,
in literature, and in public life. Mr. Winthrop rose to
his feet from this chair and brought his hand down with great
emphasis on the table as he answered: "It was the influence
of Charles Emerson, Sir."
Charles Emerson delivered just before his death a very beautiful
and impressive lecture on Socrates. It was long remembered
by the people of Concord. It is said that they who heard
it never forgot his beautiful figure and glowing countenance
as he ended a passage of great eloquence at the close of the
lecture with the words,
"God for thee has done His part. Do thine."
Mr. Hawthorne had published some short stories which had already
made his name quite celebrated, but his great fame was still
to be gained. He was poor and had a good deal of difficulty
in gaining a decent living for himself and his young wife.
I will not undertake to repeat the story of his life which
Hawthorne has told so beautifully in his "Mosses from an Old
Manse." I knew Mrs. Hawthorne very well indeed. She was
a great friend of my oldest sister and used to visit my father's
house when I was a boy, before she was married. It was owing
to that circumstance that the Hawthornes came to live in Concord.
She was quite fond of me. I used to get strawberries and
wild flowers for her, and she did me great honor to draw my
portrait, which now, fortunately or unfortunately, is lost.
I went up to the house while they were absent on their wedding
journey when I was a boy of fourteen or fifteen to help put
things in order for the reception of the young couple.
The furniture was very cheap; a good deal of it was made
of common maple. But Mrs. Hawthorne, who was an artist,
had decorated it by drawings and paintings on the backs of
the chairs and on the bureaus and bedsteads. On the headboard
of her bed was a beautiful copy, painted by herself, of Guido's
Aurora, with its exquisite light figures and horses and youths
and maidens flying through the air.
I never knew Hawthorne except as a stately figure, whom I
saw sometimes in Concord streets and sometimes in his own
home. He rarely, if ever, opened his lips in my hearing.
He was always very silent, hardly spoke in the presence of
any visitor with whom he was not very intimate. So far as
I know he never visited at the houses of his neighbors and
never went to town-meeting. The latter was a deadly sin in
the eyes of his democratic neighbors. Mr. Emerson induced
him, one evening, to be one of a small company at his house.
But Hawthorne kept silent and at last went to the window and
looked out at the stars. One of the ladies said to the person
next her: "How well he rides his horses of the night." He
was very fond of long walks, and of rowing on the river with
Thoreau and Ellery Channing.
The Old Manse was built in 1759 by the Rev. Daniel Bliss
for his daughter Phoebe on her marriage to the Rev. William
Emerson. She was grandmother of Waldo Emerson. Her second
husband was the Rev. Dr. Ripley.
I knew Henry Thoreau very intimately. I went to school with
him when I was a little boy and he was a big one. Afterward
I was a scholar in his school.
He was very fond of small boys, and used to take them out
with him in his boat, and make bows and arrows for them, and
take part in their games. He liked also to get a number of
the little chaps of a Saturday afternoon and take them out
in his boat, or for a long walk in the woods.
He knew the best places to find huckleberries and blackberries
and chestnuts and lilies and cardinal and other rare flowers.
We used to call him Trainer Thoreau, because the boys called
the soldiers the "trainers," and he had a long, measured stride
and an erect carriage which made him seem something like a
soldier, although he was short and rather ungainly in figure.
He had a curved nose which reminded one a little of the beak
of a parrot.
His real name was David Henry Thoreau, although he changed
the order of his first two names afterward. He was a great
finder of Indian arrow-heads, spear-heads, pestles, and other
stone implements which the Indians had left behind them, of
which there was great abundance in the Concord fields and
meadows.
He knew the rare forest birds and all the ways of birds and
wild animals. Naturalists commonly know birds and beasts
and wild flowers as a surgeon who has dissected the human
body, or perhaps sometimes a painter who has made pictures
of them knows men and women. But he knew birds and beasts
as one boy knows another--all their delightful little habits
and fashions. He had the most wonderful good fortune. We
used to say that if anything happened in the deep woods which
only came about once in a hundred years, Henry Thoreau would
be sure to be on the spot at the time and know the whole story.
It seemed that Nature could not raise
A plant in any secret place,
In quaking bog or snowy hill,
Beneath the grass that shades the rill,
Under the snow, between the rocks,
In damp fields known to bird and fox,
But he would come in the very hour
It opened in its virgin bower,
As if a sunbeam showed the place,
And tell its long-descended race.
It seemed as if the breezes brought him;
It seemed as if the sparrows taught him;
As if by secret sight he knew
Where, in the far fields, the orchis grew.
Many haps fall in the field
Seldom seen by wishful eyes,
But all her shows did Nature yield,
To please and win this pilgrim wise.
He saw the partridge drum in the woods;
He heard the woodcock's evening hymn;
He found the tawny thrushes' broods;
And the shy hawk did wait for him;
What others did at distance hear,
And guessed within the thicket's gloom,
Was shown to this philosopher,
And at his bidding seemed to come.
These lines fit Henry Thoreau exactly. Most people think
Emerson had him in mind when he wrote them. But as a matter
of fact, they were written before he knew Henry Thoreau.
I wonder how many know the woodcock's evening hymn. I have
known many sportsmen and naturalists who never heard it or
heard of it. When the female is on her nest the male woodcock
flies straight up into the sky, folds his wings and falls
down through the air, coming down within a foot or two of
the nest from which he ascended, pouring out a beautiful song,
which he never sings at any other time. He is said to be
one of the best and sweetest of our song birds.
It is a singular fact that Emerson did not know Henry Thoreau
until after Thoreau had been some years out of college. Henry
walked to Boston, eighteen miles, to hear one of Emerson's
lectures, and walked home again in the night after the lecture
was over. Emerson heard of it, and invited him to come to
his house and hear the lectures read there, which he did.
People used to say that Thoreau imitated Emerson, and Lowell
has made this charge in his satire, "A Fable for Critics";
There comes ----, for instance; to see him's rare sport,
Tread in Emerson's tracks with legs painfully short.
I think there is nothing in it. Thoreau's style is certainly
fresh and original. His tastes and thoughts are his own.
His peculiarities of bearing and behavior came to him naturally
from his ancestors of the isle of Guernsey.
I retained his friendship to his death. I have taken many
a long walk with him. I used to go down to see him in the
winter days in my vacations in his hut near Walden. He was
capital company. He was a capital guide in the wood. He
liked to take out the boys in his boat. He was fond of discoursing.
I do not think he was vain. But he liked to do his thinking
out loud, and expected that you should be an auditor rather
than a companion.
I have heard Thoreau say in private a good many things which
afterward appeared in his writings. One day when we were
walking, he leaned his back against a rail fence and discoursed
of the shortness of the time since the date fixed for the
creation, measured by human lives. "Why," he said, "sixty
old women like Nabby Kettle" (a very old woman in Concord),
"taking hold of hands, would span the whole of it." He repeats
this in one of his books, adding, "They would be but a small
tea-party, but their gossip would make universal history."
Another man who was famous as a writer went to school and
afterward tended store in Concord in my childhood. This was
George H. Derby, better known as John Phoenix. He was also
very fond of small boys. I remember his making me what I
thought a wonderful and beautiful work of art, by taking a
sheet of stiff paper of what was called elephant foolscap,
and folding it into a very small square, and then with a penknife
cutting out small figures of birds and beasts. When the sheet
was opened again these were repeated all over the sheet, and
made it appear like a piece of handsome lace.
He did not get along very well with his employer, who was
a snug and avaricious person. He would go to Boston once
a week to make his purchases, leaving Derby in charge of the
store. Derby would lie down at full length on the counter,
get a novel, and was then very unwilling to be disturbed to
wait on customers. If a little girl came in with a tin kettle
to get some molasses, he would say the molasses was all out,
and they would have some more next week. So the employer
found that some of his customers were a good deal annoyed.
Another rather famous writer who lived in Concord in my time
was Mr. A. Bronson Alcott. He used to talk to the children
in the Sunday-school, and occasionally would gather them together
in the evening for a long discourse. I am ashamed to say
that we thought Mr. Alcott rather stupid. He did not make
any converts to his theories among the boys.
He once told us that it was wicked to eat animal food; that
the animal had the same right to his life that we had to ours,
and we had no right to destroy the lives of any of God's
creatures for our own purposes. He lived only on vegetable
food, as he told us. But he had on at the time a very comfortable
pair of calfskin boots, and the boys could not reconcile his
notion that it was wicked to kill animals to eat, with killing
animals that he might wear their hides. When such inconsistencies
were pointed out to him he gave a look of mild rebuke at the
audacious offender, and went on with his discourse as if nothing
had happened.
The people who do not think very much of Alcott ought to
speak with a god deal of modesty when they remember how highly
Emerson valued him, and how sure was Emerson's judgment; but
certainly nobody will attribute to Alcott much of the logical
faculty. Emerson told me once:
"I got together some people a little while ago to meet Alcott
and hear him converse. I wanted them to know what a rare
fellow he was. But we did not get along very well. Poor
Alcott had a hard time. Theodore Parker came all stuck full
of knives. He wound himself round Alcott like an anaconda;
you could hear poor Alcott's bones crunch."
Margaret Fuller used to visit Concord a good deal, and at
one time boarded in the village for several months.
She was very peculiar in her ways, and made people whom she
did not like feel very uncomfortable in her presence. She
was not generally popular, although the persons who knew her
best valued her genius highly. But old Doctor Bartlett, a
very excellent and kind old doctor, though rather gruff in
manner, could not abide her.
About midnight one very dark, stormy night the doctor was
called out of bed by a sharp knocking at the door. He got
up and put his head out of the window, and said, "Who's there?
What do you want?" He was answered by a voice in the darkness
below, "Doctor, how much camphire can anybody take by mistake
without its killing them?" To which the reply was, "Who's
taken it?" And the answer was "Margaret Fuller." The doctor
answered in great wrath, as he slammed down the window, and
returned to bed: "A peck."
William Ellery Channing, the poet, was a constant visitor
of my sister, and later of my brother Edward. He was a moody
and solitary person, except in the company of a few close
friends who testified to the charming and delightful quality
of his companionship. I suppose his poems will outlast a
great many greater reputations. But they will always find
very few readers in any generation.
Channing visited my elder sister almost every day or evening
for a good while, but rarely remained more than two or three
minutes if he found anybody else in the room.
George William Curtis, afterward the famous orator, and his
brother, Burrill, occupied for a year or two a small farmhouse
or hut, with one or two rooms in it, in Concord, on the Lincoln
road. They had been at Brook Farm and came to Concord, I
suppose attracted by Emerson. They came to my father's house
during their stay there every afternoon, and their call was
as much a regular incident of the day as any stated meal.
Each of them was a boy of a very pleasant and delightful nature.
I think if George Curtis had dwelt almost anywhere but in
New York city, he would have been a very powerful influence
in the public life of his generation. But he did not find
any congenial associates in the men in New York who had any
capacity to effect much good. His pure and lofty counsel
fell unheeded upon the ears of his near neighbors, and the
people of Massachusetts did not listen very patiently to lectures
on political purity or reform in civil service from New York
city.
I never maintained any considerable intimacy with Curtis,
although I have a few letters from him, expressing his regard
for some of my kindred or his interest and sympathy in something
I had said or done. These I value exceedingly. One of the
very last articles he wrote for _Harper's Weekly,_ written
just before his death, contains a far too kind estimate of
my public service.
The Concord quality has come down with its people from the
first settlement. The town was founded by Peter Bulkeley.
He was a clergyman at Odell in Bedfordshire, where the church
over which he was settled is still standing. He was a gentleman
of good family and of a considerable estate which he spent
for the benefit of the people whom he led into the wilderness.
He encountered the hostility of Laud and, to use the phrase
of that time, was "silenced for non-conformity." With Major
Simon Willard, he made a bargain with the Indians, just to
both parties, and with which both parties were perfectly satisfied,
which rendered the name of Concord so appropriate, although
in fact the name was given to the settlement before the company
left Boston. That pulpit was occupied by Bulkeley and his
descendants either by blood or marriage, from 1635 to 1696;
from 1738 to 1841; and from 1882 to 1893.
I was able some forty years ago to settle in Concord a matter
which had puzzled English historians, as to the legitimacy
of the famous statesman and Chief Justice, Oliver St. John.
Lord Campbell, in his "Lives of the Chief Justices," says:
"It is a curious circumstance that there should be a dispute
about the parentage of such a distinguished individual, who
flourished so recently. Lord Clarendon, who knew him intimately
from his youth, who practised with him in the Court of King's
Bench, who sat in the House of Commons with him, and who was
both associated with him and opposed to him in party strife,
repeatedly represents him as illegitimate; and states that
he was 'a natural son of the house of Bolingbroke.' Lord Bacon's
account of his origin is equivocal--calling him 'a gentleman
as it seems of an ancient house and name.' By genealogists
and heralds a legitimate pedigree is assigned to him, deducing
his descent in the right male line from William St. John,
who came in with the Conqueror; but some of them describe
him as the son of Sir John St. John, of Lydiard Tregose in
Wiltshire, and others as the son of Oliver St. John of Cagshoe
in Bedfordshire, and they differ equally respecting his mother.
Lord Clarendon could hardly be mistaken on such a point,
and I cannot help suspecting that the contrary assertions
proceed from a desire to remove the bar sinister from the
shield of a Chief Justice."
Lord Campbell has had diligent search made in the archives
of Oxford and Lincoln's Inn, but does not find anything to
change his opinion.
Fortunately we are able to settle the question about which
Lord Campbell and Lord Bacon and Lord Clarendon were misled,
in Old Concord. Peter Bulkeley was the uncle of Oliver St.
John. He speaks of him in his will, and leaves him his Bible.
Bulkeley's Gospel-Covenant, a book the substance of which
was originally preached to his congregation, is dedicated
to Oliver St. John. In the Epistle Dedicatory, he speaks
of the pious and godly lives of St. John's parents, and alludes
to the dying words of St. John's father as something which
he and St. John had heard, but which was not known to other
men. "I speak a mystery to others but not unto your Lordship."
So it is quite clear that St. John could not have been born
out of wedlock, and the son of a man who had seduced the
sister of this eminent and pious clergyman.
In Noble's "Memoirs of the Cromwell Family," published about
seventy-five years after the death of St. John, he is said
to be the son of Oliver St. John of Cagshoe in Bedfordshire.
When the "Lives of the Chief Justices" was first published,
I wrote to Lord Campbell, telling him these facts, and received
the following letter in reply:
LONDON, July 9th, 1861.
_Sir_
I thank you very sincerely for your interesting letter of
December 13th, respecting Lord Chief Justice St. John. I
think you establish his legitimacy quite satisfactorily and
in any future edition of my Lives of the Chief Justices I
shall certainly avail myself of your researches.
I have the honor to be
Sir
Your obliged and obedient Servant
CAMPBELL.
The Honorable
Geo. F. Hoar.
Something of Bulkeley's character may be gathered from this
extract from the Gospel-Covenant, which Mr. Emerson, who was
his descendant, loved to quote. Think of these words, uttered
to his little congregation in the wilderness; the only company
of white men in the Western Hemisphere who dwelt away from
tide-water:
"And for ourselves, the people of New England, wee should
in a speciall manner, labour to shine forth in holinesse
above other people; we have that plenty and abundance of
ordinances and meanes of grace as few people enjoy the like;
wee are as a City set upon a hill, in the open view of all
the earth, the eyes of the world are upon us, because wee
professe ourselves to be a people in Covenant with God, and
therefore not only the Lord our God, with whom we have made
Covenant, but heaven and earth, Angels and men, that are witnesses
of our profession, will cry shame upon us, if we walk contrary
to the Covenant which we have professed to walk in; if we
open the mouthes of men against our profession, by reason
of the scandalousnesse of our lives, wee (of all men) shall
have the greater sinne.
"To conclude, let us study so to walk, that this may be our
excellency and dignity among the Nations of the world, among
which we live; That they may be constrained to say of us,
onely this people is wise, an holy and blessed people: that
all that see us, may see and know that the name of the Lord
is called upon us: and that we are the seed which the Lord
hath blessed. Deut. 28. 10 Esay. 61. 9. There is no people
but will strive to excell in something: what can we excell
in if not in holinesse? If we look to number, we are the
fewest; If to strength, we are the weakest; If to wealth
and riches, we are the poorest of all the people of God throughout
the whole world, we cannot excell (nor so much as equall)
other people in these things; and if we come short in grace
and holiness too, we are the most despicable people under
heaven; our worldy dignitie is gone, if we lose the glory
of grace too, then is the glory wholly departed from our Israel,
and we are become vile; strive we therefore herein to excell,
and suffer not this crown to be taken away from us: Be we
a holy people, so shall we be honorable before God and precious
in the eyes of his Saints."
To these eminent Concord authors should be added the name
of William S. Robinson. He was one of the brightest and wittiest
men of his time. He very seldom had praise for anybody, although
for a few of his old Anti-Slavery friends he had a huge liking.
When I was a little boy he was in a newspaper office in Concord,
where he got most of his education. Afterward he was associated
with William Schouler in editing the Lowell _Courier,_ a Whig
paper. When Schouler became editor of the _Atlas,_ Robinson
succeeded to the paper. But when the Free Soil movement
came in, he would not flinch or abate a jot in his radical
Anti-Slavery principles, which were not very agreeable to
the proprietors of the cotton mills in Lowell, who depended
both for their material and their market largely upon the
South. Sumner described their alliance with their Southern
customers as an alliance between the Lords of the Loom and
the Lords of the Lash. So Robinson was compelled to give
up his paper, in doing which he voluntarily embraced poverty
instead of a certain and lucrative employment. He started
an Anti-Slavery weekly paper in Lowell known as the Lowell
_American._ That afforded him a bare and difficult living
for a few years. After the Anti-Slavery people got into power
he was made Clerk of the Massachusetts House of Representatives.
Then he began to write his famous letters to the Springfield
_Republican,_ which he signed Warrington. They were full
of wit and wisdom and displayed great knowledge of the best
English literature. He made many enemies and finally, by
a concert among them, was turned out of office. He lost his
health not long after, and died prematurely.
He was quite unsparing in his attacks on anybody who offended
him, or against whom he took a dislike; and he seemed to dislike
everybody whom he did not know. It was said of him that,
like the rain of Heaven, he "fell alike on the just and on
the unjust." He attacked some of the most venerable and worthy
citizens of the Commonwealth without any apparent reason.
He used to call Chief Justice Chapman, one of the worthiest
and kindest of men, Chief Justice Wheelgrease. He had a controversy
in his paper of long standing with a man named Piper, a pompous
and self-important little personage, who edited the Fitchburg
_Reveille._ That was a Whig paper which circulated in the
country towns where Robinson's paper was chiefly taken. He
made poor Piper's life unhappy. One of the issues of his
paper contained a life of Piper. It begun by saying that
Piper began life as the driver of a fish-cart in Marblehead,
and that he was discharged by his employer on account of the
diffuseness of his style. He quoted with great effect on
Otis P. Lord the toast given by the Court Jester of Archbishop
Laud's time: "Great Laud be to God, and Little Lord to the
Devil."
When he was clerk of the House of Representatives there was
a story in the newspapers that he was preparing a treatise
on Parliamentary law. He published a letter denying the statement.
But he added, that if he did write such a treatise, he should
sum it up in one sentence: "Never have an ass in the chair."
I was associated with him one day on the Committee on Resolutions
of the Republican State Convention, held in Worcester. The
Committee went over to my office to consult. While we were
talking together Robinson broke out with his accustomed objurgations
levelled at several very worthy and excellent men. I said:
"William, it is fortunate that you did not live in the Revolutionary
time. How you would have hated General Washington." He replied,
with a smile that indicated the gratification he would have
had if he could have got at him: "He was an old humbug, wasn't
he?"
But Robinson was always on the righteous side of any question
involving righteousness. He was kind, generous, absolutely
disinterested, and a great and beneficent power in the Commonwealth.
CHAPTER VI
FARM AND SCHOOL
I spent my life in Concord until I entered college except
one year when I lived on a farm in Lincoln. There I had
an opportunity to see at its best the character of the New
England farmer, a character which has impressed itself so
strongly and so beneficently on our history. Deacon James
Farrar, for whom I worked, was, I believe, the fifth in descent
from George Farrar, one of the founders of the town of Lincoln.
All these generations dwelt on the same farm and under the
same roof. An ancient forest came to a point not far from
the house. That, with a large river meadow and some fertile
upland fields, made up the farm. In every generation one
or more of the family had gone to college and had become eminent
in professional life, while one of them had stayed at home
and carried on the farm. An uncle of the Deacon with whom
I lived was Timothy Farrar of New Ipswich, an eminent judge
who died considerably more than a hundred years old, and who
was the oldest graduate of Harvard. Deacon James's own brother
was Professor John Farrar of Harvard, a famous mathematician
in his day, thought by his pupils to be the most eloquent
man of his time, although Webster and Everett and Channing
were his cotemporaries. It was a healthy and simple life
of plain living and high thinking. But I think I got more
good out of it in learning how the best intelligence of the
State of Massachusetts was likely to judge of the questions
of morals and duty than I got afterward from my four years
in college. Two of the Deacon's sons succeeded him on the
farm. One was his successor in his office in the church.
Another son, George Farrar, graduated at Amherst where he
was cotemporary with Dr. Storrs and Henry Ward Beecher. He
died a few years after his admission to the Bar. But he had
already given proof that he would, if he had lived, have taken
rank among the foremost at the Bar in Massachusetts.
Before entering college I was for about six months a pupil
of Mrs. Sarah Ripley of Waltham. She removed to Concord with
her husband afterward. She was one of the most wonderful
scholars of her time, or indeed of any time. President Everett
said she could fill any professor's chair at Harvard. She
was an admirable mathematician. She read the "Mecanique Celeste"
of Laplace in the original without the aid of Dr. Bowditch's
translation. She was a fine German and Italian scholar. She
had a great fondness for Greek literature, especially for
Plato and AEschylus. She was an accomplished naturalist.
She was simple as a child, an admirable wife and mother, performing
perfectly all the commonest duties of the household. The
authorities of Harvard used to send boys to her who were rusticated
for some offence. She would keep them along in all their
studies, in most cases better instructed than they would have
been if they had stayed in Cambridge. I remember her now
with the strongest feeling of reverence, affection and gratitude.
In that I say what every other pupil of hers would say. I
do not think she ever knew how much her boys loved her.
In 1876 the Directors of the Centennial Exposition at Philadelphia
took steps to have the lives of three or four of the foremost
women of the century that had just passed written as the best
examples of American womanhood for our first century. Mrs.
Schuyler was selected from New York, Mrs. Livermore from
New Hampshire, and Mrs. Randolph from Virginia. Mrs. Ripley
was chosen as the representative of Massachusetts. If anybody
doubt the capacity of the intellect of woman to rival that
of man in any calling requiring the highest intellectual capacity,
without in the least forfeiting any quality of a delicate
womanhood, let him read the "Life of Sarah Ripley."
After her death Mr. Emerson wrote the following notice of
her. It is not found in his collected works.
"Died in Concord, Massachusetts, on the 26th of July, 1867,
Mrs. Sarah Alden Ripley, aged seventy-four years. The death
of this lady, widely known and beloved, will be sincerely
deplored by many persons scattered in distant parts of the
country, who have known her rare accomplishments and the singular
loveliness of her character. A lineal descendant of the first
governor of Plymouth Colony, she was happily born and bred.
Her father, Gamaliel Bradford, was a sea-captain of marked
ability, with heroic traits which old men will still remember,
and though a man of action yet adding a taste for letters.
Her brothers, younger than herself, were scholars, but her
own taste for study was even more decided. At a time when
perhaps no other young woman read Greek, she acquired the
language with ease and read Plato,--adding soon the advantage
of German commentators.
"After her marriage, when her husband, the well-known clergyman
of Waltham, received boys in his house to be fitted for college,
she assumed the advanced instruction in Greek and Latin, and
did not fail to turn it to account by extending her studies
in both languages. It soon happened that students from Cambridge
were put under her private instruction and oversight. If
the young men shared her delight in the book, she was interested
at once to lead them to higher steps and more difficult but
not less engaging authors, and they soon learned to prize
the new world of thought and history thus opened. Her best
pupils became her lasting friends. She became one of the
best Greek scholars in the country, and continued, in her
latest years, the habit of reading Homer, the tragedians,
and Plato. But her studies took a wide range in mathematics,
in natural philosophy, in psychology, in theology, as well
as in ancient and modern literature. She had always a keen
ear open to whatever new facts astronomy, chemistry, of the
theories of light and heat had to furnish. Any knowledge,
all knowledge was welcome. Her stores increased day by day.
She was absolutely without pedantry. Nobody ever heard of
her learning until a necessity came for its use, and then
nothing could be more simple than her solution of the problem
proposed to her. The most intellectual gladly conversed with
one whose knowledge, however rich and varied, was always with
her only the means of new acquisition. Meantime her mind
was purely receptive. She had no ambition to propound a theory,
or to write her own name on any book, or plant, or opinion.
Her delight in books was not tainted by any wish to shine,
or any appetite for praise or influence. She seldom and unwillingly
used a pen, and only for necessity or affection.
"But this wide and successful study was, during all the hours
of middle life, only the work of hours stolen from sleep,
or was combined with some household task which occupied the
hands and left the eyes free. She was faithful to all the
duties of wife and mother in a well-ordered and eminently
hospitable household, wherein she was dearly loved, and where
'her heart
Life's lowliest duties on itself did lay.'
"She was not only the most amiable, but the tenderest of
women, wholly sincere, thoughtful for others, and, though
careless of appearances, submitting with docility to the
better arrangements with which her children or friends insisted
on supplementing her own negligence of dress; for her own
part indulging her children in the greatest freedom, assured
that their own reflection, as it opened, would supply all
needed checks. She was absolutely without appetite for luxury,
or display, or praise, or influence, with entire indifference
to trifles. Not long before her marriage, one of her intimate
friends in the city, whose family were removing, proposed
to her to go with her to the new house, and, taking some articles
in her own hand, by way of trial artfully put into her hand
a broom, whilst she kept her in free conversation on some
speculative points, and this she faithfully carried across
Boston Common, from Summer Street to Hancock Street, without
hesitation or remark.
"Though entirely domestic in her habit and inclination, she
was everywhere a welcome visitor, and a favorite of society,
when she rarely entered it. The elegance of her tastes recommended
her to the elegant, who were swift to distinguish her as they
found her simple manners faultless. With her singular simplicity
and purity, such as society could not spoil, nor much affect,
she was only entertained by it, and really went into it as
children into a theatre,--to be diverted,--while her ready
sympathy enjoyed whatever beauty of person, manners, or ornament
it had to show. If there was conversation, if there were
thought or learning, her interest was commanded, and she gave
herself up to the happiness of the hour.
"As she advanced in life, her personal beauty, not remarked
in her youth, drew the notice of all, and age brought no fault
but the brief decay and eclipse of her intellectual powers."
In 1833, three years before Emerson wrote "Nature," Mrs. Ripley
said of him: "We regard him still, more than ever, as the
apostle of the Eternal Reason. We do not like to hear the
crows, as Pindar says, caw at the bird of Jove."*
[Footnote]
* On the stone which marks Mrs. Ripley's grave in the beautiful
cemetery at Concord, her children placed an inscription containing
a part of the passage with which Tacitus ends his Life of Agricola.
"It was a passage which was specially dear to her," says her
biographer; "many of her friends will recall the fine glow of
feeling with which she read or quoted it; and to these it will
always be associated with her memory. I cannot better close this
imperfect sketch of her life than by giving the whole of it: of
no one was it ever more worthily spoken than of her. The words
enclosed in brackets are those which are on her gravestone."
"Si quis piorum manibus locus; si, ut sapientibus placet, non
cum corpore exstinguunter magnae animae; (placide quescas, nosque,
domum tuam, ab tuarum voces, quas neque lugeri neque plangi fas
est: admiratione te potius, temporalibus laudibus, et, si natura
suppedit, similitudine decoremus.) Is verus honos, ea conjunctissimi
cujusque pietas. Id filiae quoque uxorique praeceperim, sic
patris, sic mariti memoriam venerari, ut omnia facta dictaque
ejus secum revlvant; famamque ac figuram animi magis quam
corporis complectantur: non quia intercedendum putem imaginibus,
quae marmore aut aere finguntur, sed ut vultus hominum, ita simulacra
vultus imbecilla ne mortalia sunt, forma mentis aeterna, quam
tenere et exprimere non per alienam materiam et artem, sed tuis
ipse moribus posis. Quidquid ex Agricola amavimus, quidquid mirati
sumus, manet mansurumque est in animis hominum, in aeternitate
temporum, fama rerum. Nam multos veterum, velut inglorios et
ignobiles oblivio obruet: Agricola posteritati narratus et
superstes erit."
[End of Footnote]
CHAPTER VII
HARVARD SIXTY YEARS AGO
I do not think Harvard College had changed very much when
I entered it on my sixteenth birthday in the year 1842 either
in manners, character of students or teachers, or the course
of instruction, for nearly a century. There were some elementary
lectures and recitations in astronomy and mechanics. There
was a short course of lectures on chemistry, accompanied by
exhibiting a few experiments. But the students had no opportunity
for laboratory work. There was a delightful course of instruction
from Dr. Walker in ethics and metaphysics. The college had
rejected the old Calvinistic creed of New England and substituted
in its stead the strict Unitarianism of Dr. Ware and Andrews
Norton,--a creed in its substance hardly more tolerant or
liberal than that which it had supplanted. There was also
some instruction in modern languages,--German, French and
Italian,--all of very slight value. But the substance of
the instruction consisted in learning to translate rather
easy Latin and Greek, writing Latin, and courses in algebra
and geometry not very far advanced.
The conditions of admission were quite easy. They were such
as a boy of fourteen of good capacity, who could read and
write the English language and had gone through some simple
book of arithmetic, could easily master in two years. There
were three or four schools were the boys were pretty well
fitted, so that they could translate Cicero and Virgil, Nepos
and Sallust and Caesar and Xenophon and Homer. The Boston
Latin School, the Roxbury Latin School, Phillips Academy at
Exeter and Phillips Academy at Andover and Mrs. Ripley's
school at Waltham were the best schools for this purpose.
The boys from the Boston Latin School generally took their
places at the head of the class when they entered. Next came
the best scholars from the other schools I have named. But
the bulk of the pupils were very poorly fitted.
There was, as it seems to me in looking back, little instruction
of much value. The good scholars and the bad went to the
recitation together. The good ones lost the hour, and the
poor scholars got the benefit of hearing the good ones recite.
Their mistakes were corrected by the professor. They handed
in written exercises in Latin and Greek which were examined
by the instructor and the faults corrected, and returned.
There were, during the last three years, declamations once
a month, where the boy recited some piece of prose or poetry
in the presence of the class, but got very little instruction
or criticism from the professor. Then, in the last three
years, English themes were required. The subjects were given
out by Professor Channing, himself a most accomplished and
admirable scholar in his line. He seemed to choose his subjects
with a view of taxing the ingenuity of the boy to find anything
to say about them instead of taking something which the boy
knew about and devoting himself to improve his English style
in expressing his thought. Channing was a good critic. His
published lectures on rhetoric and oratory, now almost wholly
forgotten, remind one of Matthew Arnold in their delicate
and discriminating touch. He had a face and figure something
like that of Punch in the frontispiece of that magazine. His
method was to take the themes which the boys handed in one
week, look them over himself, then, a week after, meet the
class, call the boys in succession to sit down in a chair
by the side of his table, read out passages from the theme,
and ridicule them before the others. It was a terrible ordeal
for a bashful or awkward boy. Those of a more robust nature,
or whose performance had nothing ridiculous in it, profited
by the discipline. But it certainly took all the starch and
courage out of me. I never sat down to write my theme without
fancying that grinning and scornful countenance looking at
my work. So I used to write as few sentences as I thought
would answer so that I should not be punished for failure
to bring in any theme at all, and never attempted to do my
best.
But the Faculty themselves were certainly an assemblage of
very able men. Making all the allowance for the point of
view, and that I was then a youth looking at my elders who
had become famous, and that I am now looking as an old man
at young men, I still think there can be no comparison between
the college administrators of fifty years ago and those of
to-day. It was then the policy of the college to call into
its service great men who had achieved eminent distinction
in the world without. It is now its policy to select for
its service promising youth, in the hope that they will become
great. Perhaps the last method is the best where it succeeds.
But the effect of failure is most mischievous. Presidents
Quincy, Everett, Walker and Sparks administered in succession
the office of President during my connection with the Academic
Department and the Law School, although Dr. Walker's inauguration
was not until later. Each of them in his own way was among
the first men of his time. Quincy had been an eminent statesman,
a famous orator, and a most successful mayor of Boston. Edward
Everett had been in his early youth one of the most famous
pulpit orators of the country, afterward a distinguished
Member of Congress, Governor of the Commonwealth, Minister
to England, and Senator of the United States. He was a consummate
orator, on whose lips thousands and thousands of his countrymen
had hung entranced. He was, what is less generally remembered
now, perhaps the ablest and most accomplished diplomatist
ever in the public service of the United States. Jared Sparks
was a profound student of history, somewhat dull as a narrator,
but of unerring historic judgment. I suppose he would be
placed by all our writers of history with great unanimity
at the head of American historic investigators. James Walker
was a great preacher and a profound thinker. In the judgment
of his hearers, young and old, he was probably deemed nearly
or quite the foremost of American preachers.
That I may not be supposed to imply any disparagement of the
present accomplished head of Harvard, let me say that while
each of the men I have named had done a great work in life
and achieved a great fame before he came to the Presidency,
President Eliot has, in my opinion, achieved an equal fame
and performed an equal work since he came to it.
A like policy prevailed in those days in the choice of instructors
in the Law School. Judge Story, the senior professor, died
just before I graduated from the College. His fame as a jurist
was known throughout Europe. He was undoubtedly the most
learned judge in the United States. Chief Justice Marshall
and Chief Justice Shaw of Massachusetts doubtless excelled
him in intellectual vigor. Chancellor Kent rivalled him as
a writer upon law. But he had no other rival among judges
or commentators in this country,--few anywhere. He was unquestionably,
at the time of his death, the most famous teacher of law in
the civilized world. His associate professor, Greenleaf,
was an admirable lawyer, who, before he went to Harvard, had
had a great practice in Maine, and made some good arguments
in the Supreme Court of the United States. Judge Story was
succeeded by Chief Justice Joel Parker of New Hampshire, a
very eminent jurist, who was saturated with the old learning
of special pleading and real property. He would have been
a fit associate for Coke or Saunders, and would have held
his own anywhere with either.
There was nothing in the teaching of Latin or Greek to inspire
the student with any love of Greek or Latin literature. The
professor never pointed out its beauties or illustrated the
text in any way. The students, in succession, were called
upon to construe a few lines, reading one or two Greek words
and then giving their English equivalents. The time of the
good scholar was taken up in hearing the recitation of the
poor scholar and so very largely wasted. I had four or five
persons in my class who became afterward eminent classical
scholars. I do not believe that when we graduated there were
more than four men in the class who could write a decent Latin
sentence without the laborious use of grammar and dictionary.
I doubt whether there was more than one, certainly there were
not more than three, who could do the same thing in Greek.
I do not suppose there was a man in the class who could have
spoken either language with ease.
Yet, somehow, the graduates of Harvard got a good intellectual
training from the University. The rough country boy, if he
had it in him, came out at his graduation a gentleman in behavior
and in character. He was able to take hold of life with great
vigor. The average age of graduation I suppose was twenty.
Not more than three years were spent in studying a profession.
In some few cases, the graduate got a little money by teaching
for a year. But the graduates of Harvard College and Harvard
Law School were apt to take quite rapidly the high places
of the profession. That was true then much more than it is
now.
There were many persons who graduated before my time or shortly
afterward whose high place in the public life of the Commonwealth
and of the country was assured before they were thirty years
old. Edward Everett was called to the pulpit of Brattle Street
Church at the age of nineteen. He succeeded in that pulpit
Joseph Stevens Buckminster, who was himself settled over that
important parish at the age of twenty-one and was a wonderful
pulpit orator. Edward Everett preached a sermon when he was
twenty-four years old before a large audience in the Representatives
Chamber at Washington which was heard with breathless silence.
Rufus King said it was the best sermon he ever heard, and
Harrison Gray Otis was affected to tears. Benjamin R. Curtis
was admitted to the bar in Boston when he was twenty-two years
old and shortly after was retained in a very important case.
It is said that an old deputy sheriff, who had just heard
Curtis's opening argument, was met in the street and asked
if anything was going on in court. "Going on?" was the reply.
"There's a young chap named Curtis up there has just opened
a case so that all Hell can't close it." I suppose Edward
Everett Hale and James Freeman Clarke were almost as famous
in the pulpit when they were twenty-five or twenty-six years
old as they ever were afterward. I might extend the catalogue
indefinitely. Where is there to be found to-day at the New
England bar or in the New England pulpit a man under thirty
of whom it can be said that his place among the great men
of his profession is assured? It will not do to say in answer
to this that it takes a greater man in this generation to
fill such a place than it took in other days. That is not
true. The men of those generations have left their work behind
them. It does not suffer in comparison with that of their
successors. There was something in the college training of
that day, imperfect as were its instruments, and slender as
were its resources, from which more intellectual strength
in the pupil was begotten than there is in the college training
of the present generation. I will not undertake to account
for it. But I think it was due in large part to the personality
of the instructors. A youth who contemplated with a near
and intimate knowledge the large manhood of Josiah Quincy;
who listened to the eloquence of James Walker, or heard his
expositions of the principal systems of ethics or metaphysics;
or who sat at the feet of Judge Story, as he poured forth
the lessons of jurisprudence in a clear and inexhaustible
stream, caught an inspiration which transfigured the very
soul of the pupil.
Josiah Quincy, "old Quin" as we loved to call him, was a very
simple and a very high character. He was born in Boston,
February 4, 1772, just before the Revolutionary War. It was
said, I have no doubt truly, that the nurse who attended his
mother at his birth went from that house to the wife of Copley,
the painter, when her son, Lord Lyndhurst, was born. Copley
was a Tory, though a patriot and an ardent lover of his country.
His departure from Boston made Lord Lyndhurst an Englishman.
Quincy entered early into politics. He was a candidate for
Congress in the last century before he was twenty-five years
old. I heard him say once that the Democrats called for a
cradle to rock the Federal candidate. He was a good type
of the old Massachusetts Federalist,--brave, manly, sincere,
of a broad and courageous statesmanship, but distrustful of
the people and not understanding their temper. He made some
very powerful speeches in the House of Representatives, attacking
the greed and office-seeking of that time. His eloquence
was something of the style of the famous Irish orators. One
of his passages describing the office-seekers tumbling over
each other like pigs to a trough will be long remembered.
He hated Jefferson and moved his impeachment in the House
of Representatives,--a motion for which he got no vote but
his own. He retired disgusted from National public life,
became Mayor of Boston, an office which he filled with much
distinction, and then was called to the Presidency of Harvard,
mainly because of his business capacity. The finances of
the University were then in a sad condition. He put them
on an excellent footing. He was very fond of the boys and
they of him, although he was rough and hasty in his manners.
While I was in college (although I happened to be at home
that day and did not see the affair) some of the boys had
got into some serious rows in Boston one Saturday. They had
undertaken to wear the Oxford cap and gown. They were ridiculed
by the populace in Boston, and a good many fights were the
consequence. They were driven from the streets, and in the
afternoon a lot of roughs took hold of a long rope, as if
they belonged to an engine company, ran out to Cambridge across
the bridge, and proposed to attack the college buildings.
Old Quin gathered the students together at the gate and told
the boys to keep within the yard and not to attack anybody
unless they were attacked, but to permit none of those men
to come within the gate. The old fellow was ready to head
the students and a fight was expected. But the police gathered,
and finally the Boston roughs were persuaded to depart in
peace.
The old gentleman's heart always warmed to the son of an old
Federalist. I had to visit his study a good many times, I
regret to say, to receive some well-deserved admonitions.
But the interview always ended in an inquiry after my father
and some jolly, or at least kindly utterance about myself.
One of my classmates gave an account in rhyme of one of these
interviews which I wish I could repeat. I can only remember
two lines:
Quin deigned a grin, perforce,
And Hoar a roar, of course.
He died in 1864 at the age of ninety-two, preserving to the
last his mental vigor and his ardent interest in public affairs.
During the darkest period of the War he never lost his hope
or faith. He fell on the ice and broke his hip a little while
before his death. He was treated by the somewhat savage
method of the surgery of the time. Dr. George E. Ellis,
from whom I had the story, went to see him one day at his
house on Park Street and found the old man lying on his bed
with a weight hanging from his foot, which projected over
the bed, to keep the bones in their place and the muscles
from contracting. He said to Mr. Quincy's daughter: "You
have been shut up here a long time. Now go and take a walk
round the Common and let me stay with your father." Miss Quincy
went out and the old man kept Dr. Ellis so full of interest
by his cheerful and lively talk that he never once thought
to ask him how he was getting along. When Miss Quincy returned,
he took his leave and had got downstairs when the omission
occurred to him. He went back to the chamber and said to
Mr. Quincy: "I forgot to ask you how your leg is." The old
fellow brought his hand down with a slap upon the limb and
said: "Damn the leg. I want to see this business settled."
When Felton was inaugurated as President, Gov. Banks in performing
his part of the ceremony of presenting the charter and the
keys to the new officer alluded in his somewhat grandiloquent
way to four of Felton's predecessors, Everett, Sparks, Walker
and Quincy, who were upon the stage. Speaking of Quincy he
said: "He would be reckoned among honorable men, though their
number were reduced to that of the mouths of the Nile or the
gates of Thebes."
Felton, the Greek professor, was the heartiest and jolliest
of men. He was certainly one of the best examples of a fully
rounded scholarship which this country or perhaps any country
ever produced. He gave before the Lowell Institute a course
of lectures on Greece Ancient and Modern, into which is compressed
learning enough to fill a large encyclopaedia. He also edited
two or three Greek plays and an edition of Homer, which was
extensively used as a text-book.
Professor Felton was a very impulsive man, though of great
dignity and propriety in his general bearing. He had some
theories of his own as to the matter of pure and correct
English and was very much disgusted if anybody transgressed
them. His brother, John Felton, of the class of 1847, afterward
the foremost lawyer on the Pacific Coast, was altogether the
best and most brilliant scholar in his class. He was reported
to the Faculty just before his graduation for the offence
of swearing in the College Yard, an offence which was punished
by what was called a public admonition which involved a considerable
loss of rank and a letter to the parent or guardian of the
offender. The Faculty, in consideration of John Felton's
excellent scholarship, instead of the ordinary punishment
directed that Professor Felton should admonish his brother
of his fault in private. The professor was some eighteen
or twenty years the elder and respected by his brother rather
as a father than as a brother. He sent for John to his study
and told him the nature of the complaint, and proceeded: "I
cannot tell you how mortified I am that my brother, in whose
character and scholarship I had taken so much pride, who stood
so high in his class, should have been reported to the Faculty
for this vulgar and wicked offence." John said, with great
contrition: "I am exceedingly sorry. It was under circumstances
of great provocation. I have never been guilty of such a
thing before. I never in my life have been addicted to profanity."
"Damnation, John," interposed the professor, "how often have
I told you the word is profaneness and not profanity?" It
is needless to say that the sermon ended at that point.
But the most interesting single figure in the Harvard Faculty
in my day was James Walker. He was a man of quiet dignity,
and of modest bearing. He appeared rather awkward when he
walked, as if there were some want of strength in the feet
or ankles. He heard the classes in my time in Jouffroy and
Cousin and in Butler's "Analogy." His method was to require
the boy to get into his mind some account of a system or special
course of reasoning of the author and to state it at considerable
length in his own language. I think all that I got out of
college that was of much use to me came from this training
in James Walker's recitation-room, except that I think I got
some capacity for cross-examining witnesses which was very
useful to me afterward from reading Plato's dialogues and
getting familiar with Socrates's method of reducing a sophist
ad absurdum. But Dr. Walker's throne was the pulpit of the
College Chapel. He used to preach four Sundays in each of
the two terms. He had a beautiful head, a deep but clear
voice, a deliberate manner and a power of emphasizing his
weighty thoughts which I have never seen surpassed by any
orator. He had a small and beautiful hand of which it is
said, though such a thing is hard to believe of him, he was
somewhat vain. But his only gesture was to bring very infrequently
the back of his hand down upon the cushion of the pulpit before
him. The ticking of the clock in the College Chapel was inaudible
when the chapel was empty. But it ticked out clear and loud
upon the strained ears of the auditors who were waiting in
the pauses of his sentences. I can remember his sermons now.
They are admirable to read, although, like other eloquence,
their life and sprit is lost without the effect of speech.
There was one on the text, "Thou shalt say no," which no hearer,
I venture to say, ever forgot to the day of his death. There
was another, on the control of the thoughts, from the text,
"Leading into captivity every thought." This made a deep impression
on the students. I seem to hear the tones of his voice now.
The Doctor described with a terrific effect the thinking over
in imagination scenes of vice by the youth who seemed to
the world outside to fall suddenly from virtue. He said
there was no such thing as a sudden fall from virtue. The
scene had been enacted in thought and the man had become
rotten before the time of the outward act.
"Sometimes the novice in crime thinks himself ready to act
when he is not; as appears from his hesitancy and reluctance
when the moment for action arrives. If, however, this unexpected
recoil of his nature does not induce him to change his purpose
altogether, he knows but too well how to supply the defect
in training for sin. If we could look into his heart, we
should find him at his accursed rehearsals again. A few more
lessons, and the blush and the shudder will pass away, never
to return."
This is tame enough in the recital. But I dare say there
are old men who will read these pages to whom it will bring
back the never-forgotten scenes of more than fifty years ago.
The Doctor had a great gift of sententious speech, not only
in his written discourses, but in his ordinary conversation or
his instruction from the professor's chair. He was speaking
one day of Combe and of something disrespectful he had said
about the English metaphysicians. "What does Mr. Combe mean?"
said the Doctor. "I make no apology for the English metaphysicians.
They have made their mistakes. They have their shortcomings.
But they are surely entitled to the common privilege of Englishmen
--to be judged by their peers." He was speaking one day of
some rulers who had tried to check the rising tide of some
reform by persecuting its leaders. "Fools!" said the Doctor.
"They thought if they could but wring the neck of the crowing
cock it would never be day."
One of the delightful characters and humorists connected
with Harvard was Evangelinus Apostolides Sophocles, tutor
in Greek. He was a native of Thessaly, born near Mount Pelion
and educated in the convent of the Greek Church on Mount Sinai.
It is said, although such instances are rare, that he was
of the purest Greek blood. At any rate, his face and head
were of the Greek type. He was a man of wonderful learning,
--I dare say the best Greek scholar of his generation, whether
in Europe or America. He was a very simple-hearted person
in dealing with ordinary affairs. But his conversation and
his instruction in the class-room were full of wit and sense.
He used to tell a story, whether of his father or his grandfather
I am not sure, that one night very late he was sitting in
his warehouse alone when two men entered and told him they
were come to kill him. He asked them why they wished to kill
him, and they told him that they had been hired by an enemy
of his. "Well," said the old man, "what are you to be paid?"
They told him the sum. He said: "I will give you twice as
much to kill him." Accordingly they accepted the offer and
went away, leaving the old fellow alive, kept their bargain
with him and killed his enemy.
Sophocles had a great love of little children and a curious
love of chickens which he treated as pets and liked to tame
and to play with, squatting down on the ground among them
as if he were a rooster himself. It is said that during his
last sickness the doctor directed that he should have chicken
broth. He indignantly rejected it, and declared he would
not eat a creature that he loved.
In what I have said about Professor Channing I am describing
him and his method in instruction faithfully as it seemed
to me at the time. It is quite possible I may be wrong. I
am sure that the better scholars and the youths who were much
better in every way than I was at that time of my life who
were his pupils will dissent from my opinion and be shocked
at what I say. So it is quite likely that I am in fault and
not he. I have read again lately his book on Rhetoric and
Oratory since what I said a little while ago was dedicated,
and I wish to reaffirm my high opinion of the book. For fresh,
racy and correct style, for clear perception and exquisite
literary taste, it is one of the best books on the subject,
as it one of the best books on any subject ever written by
an American. His mistake was, in large measure, the prevalent
mistake of the College in his time,--the use of ridicule and
severity instead of sympathy as a means of correcting the
faults incident to youth. It was the fault of the College,
both of instructors and of the students. Dr. Walker in one
of his public addresses speaks with commendation of "the storm
of merciless ridicule" which overwhelms young men who are
addicted to certain errors which he is criticising.
The Latin professor was Charles Beck, Ph.D. He was a native
of Heidelberg. He had been compelled to leave Prussia because
of his love of liberty. He had studied theology, and had
published a treatise on gymnastics, in which he was accomplished.
We read with him Terence and Plautus, the Medea of Seneca,
Horace, and probably some Latin prose, which I have forgotten.
He was a very learned Latin scholar. I do not know whether
he cared anything about poetry or eloquence or the philosophy
of the Roman authors or no. Certainly he did nothing to indicate
to us that he had any such interest or to stimulate any such
interest in his pupils. He was strict to harshness in dealing
with his class. The only evidence of enthusiasm I ever witnessed
in Dr. Beck was this: He brought into the classroom one day
an old fat German with very dirty hands and a dirty shirt.
He had a low forehead and a large head with coarse curling
hair which looked as if it had not seen a comb or brush for
a quarter of a century. We looked with amazement at this
figure. He went out before the recitation was over. But
Dr. Beck said to us: "This is Dr. ----, gentlemen. He is
a most admiwable scholar." (This was the Doctor's pronunciation
of the r.) "He has wead Cicewo through every year for nearly
fifty years for the sake of settling some important questions.
He has discovered that while necesse est may be used indifferently
either with the accusative and infinitive, or with ut with
the subjunctive, necesse ewat can only be used before ut with
the subjunctive. I should think it well worth living for
to have made that discovery."
I suppose we all thought when we graduated that Dr. Beck
was a man of harsh and cold nature. But I got acquainted
with him later in life and found him one of the most genial
and kind-hearted of men. He was a member of the Legislature.
He was a Free Soiler and an Abolitionist, liberally contributing
to the Sanitary Commission, and to all agencies for the benefit
of the soldiers and the successful prosecution of the war.
He came vigorously to the support of Horace Mann in his famous
controversy with Mr. Webster. Mann had vigorously attacked
Webster, and Webster in return had spoken of Mann as one of
that class of persons known among the Romans as Captatores
Verborum, which he supposed to mean one of those nice persons
who catch up other person's words for the sake of small criticism
and fault-finding. Mr. Mann replied that Webster was wrong
in his Latin, and the words Captatores Verborum meant toad-
eaters, or men who hang on the words of great men to praise
and flatter them, of which he found some conspicuous modern
examples among Webster's supporters. Professor Felton, the
Greek professor, who was a staunch friend of Webster, attacked
Mann and charged him with ignorance of Latin. But Dr. Beck
came to the rescue, and his authority as a Latin scholar
was generally conceded to outweigh that of Webster and Felton
put together.
One of the most brilliant men among the Faculty was Professor
Benjamin Peirce. Undoubtedly he was the foremost American
mathematician of his time. He dwelt without a companion in
the lofty domain of the higher mathematics.
A privacy of glorious light is thine.
He was afterward the head of the Coast Survey. He had little
respect for pupils who had not a genius for mathematics,
and paid little attention to them. He got out an edition
of Peirce's Algebra while I was in college. He distributed
the sheets among the students and would accept, instead of
a successful recitation, the discovery of a misprint on its
pages. The boys generally sadly neglected his department,
which was made elective, I think, after the sophomore year.
At the examinations, which were held by committees appointed
by the Board of Overseers, he always gave to the pupil the
same problem that had been given to him in the last preceding
recitation. So the boys were prepared to make a decent appearance.
He used to dress in a very peculiar fashion, wearing a queer
little sack and striped trousers which made him look sometimes
as if he were a salesman in a Jew clothing-store. He had
a remarkably clear and piercing black eye. One night one
of the students got into the belfry and attached a slender
thread to the tongue of the bell, contrived to lock the door
which led to the tower and carry off the key, then went to
his room in the fourth story of Massachusetts Hall and began
to toll the bell. The students and the Faculty and proctors
gathered, but nobody could explain the mysterious ringing
of the bell until Peirce came upon the scene. His sharp eye
perceived the slender line and it was traced to the room where
the roguish fellow who was doing the mischief thought himself
secure. He was detected and punished.
Peirce gained great fame in the scientific world by his controversy
with Leverrier. Leverrier, as is well known, discovered some
perturbations in the movement of the planet Herschel, now
more commonly called Uranus, which were not accounted for
by known conditions. From that he reasoned that there must
be another planet in the neighborhood and, on turning his
glass to the point where his calculations told him the disturbing
body must be, he discovered the planet sometimes called by
his name and sometimes called Neptune. This discovery created
a great sensation and a burst of admiration for the fortunate
discoverer. Peirce maintained the astounding proposition
that there was an error in Leverrier's calculations, and that
the discovery was a fortunate accident. I believe that astronomers
finally came to his conclusion. I remember once going into
Boston in the omnibus when Peirce got in with a letter in
his hand that he had just got from abroad and saying with
great exultation to Professor Felton, who happened to be there,
"Gauss says I am right."
I got well acquainted with Professor Peirce after I left
College. He used to come to Washington after I came into
public life. I found him one of the most delightful of men.
His treatise "Ideality in the Physical Sciences," and one
or two treatises of a religious character which he published,
are full of a lofty and glowing eloquence. He gave a few
lectures in mathematics to the class which, I believe, were
totally incomprehensible to every one of his listeners with
the possible exception of Child. He would take the chalk
in his hand and begin in his shrill voice, "If we take," then
he would write an equation in algebraic characters, "thus
we have," following it by another equation or formula. By
the time he had got his blackboard half covered, he would
get into an enthusiasm of delight. He would rub the legs
of his pantaloons with his chalky hands and proceed on his
lofty pathway, apparently unconscious of his auditors. What
has become of all those wonderful results of genius I do not
know. He was invited to a banquet by the Harvard Alumni in
New York where he was the guest of honor. Mr. Choate expressed
a grave doubt whether the professor could dine comfortably
without a blackboard.
John W. Webster gave lectures to the boys on chemistry and
geology which they were compelled to attend. I think the
latter the most tedious human compositions to which I ever
listened. The doctor seemed a kind-hearted, fussy person.
He was known to the students by the sobriquet of Sky-rocket
Jack, owing to his great interest in having some fireworks
at the illumination when President Everett was inaugurated.
There was no person among the Faculty at Cambridge who seemed
less likely to commit such a bloody and cruel crime as that
for which he was executed. The only thing that I know which
indicated insensibility was that when he was lecturing one
day in chemistry he told us that in performing the experiment
which he was then showing us a year or two before with some
highly explosive gas a copper vessel had burst and a part
of it had been thrown with great violence into the back of
the bench where a row of students were sitting, but fortunately
the student who sat in that place was absent that day and
nobody was hurt. He added drily: "The President sent for
me and told me I must be more careful. He said I should feel
very badly indeed if I had killed one of the students. And
I should."
There was nothing in my time equivalent to what used to be
called a rebellion in the older days, and I believe no such
event has occurred for the last fifty years. The nearest
to it was a case which arose in the senior class when I was
a freshman. One of the seniors, who was a rather dull-witted
but well-meaning youth, concluded that it was his duty to
inform the Faculty of offences committed by his classmates,
a proceeding it is needless to say contrary to all the boys'
sentiments as to honorable conduct. Some windows had been
broken, including his. He informed the Faculty of the person
who had broken them, who was rusticated for a short time as
punishment. The next day being Saturday, this informer, dressed
up in his best, was starting for Boston, when he was seized
by six of his classmates and held under the College pump until
he received a sound ducking. He seized the finger of one
of them with his teeth and bit it severely, though it was protected
somewhat by a ring. He complained of five of the six, who
were forthwith suspended until the next Commencement, losing,
of course, their rank in the class and their chances for taking
part in the Commencement exercises. One of them, of whom
he omitted to tell, was much disturbed by the omission and
demanded of the informer why he left him out. He said that
he had rather a pity for him, as he had already been suspended
once and he supposed the new offence would lead to his being
expelled. Whereupon he said, "I will give you some reason
to tell of me," and proceeded to administer a sound caning.
That was at once reported to the Faculty. The offender was
expelled, and criminal proceedings had which resulted in a
fine.
We had some delightful lectures from Longfellow on the literature
of the Middle Ages. He read us some of his own original poems
and some beautiful translations. All the substance of these
lectures I think is to be found in his book entitled "The
Poets and Poetry of the Middle Ages." I do not see that we
gained anything of solid instruction by having them read to
us that we could not have got as well by reading them. We
had also a course of lectures from Jared Sparks on American
history. They were generally dull and heavy, but occasionally
made intensely interesting when he described some stirring
event of the Revolutionary War. We hung breathless on his
account of the treason of Arnold and its detection and the
class burst out into applause when he ended,--a thing the
like of which never happened in any time in College. There
was a little smattering of instruction in modern languages,
but it was not of much value. We had a French professor named
Viau whom the boys tormented unmercifully. He spoke English
very imperfectly, and his ludicrous mistakes destroyed all
his dignity and rendered it impossible to maintain any discipline
in the class. He would break out occasionally in despair,
"Young zhentlemen, you do not respect me and I have not given
you any reason to." A usual punishment for misconduct in those
days was to deduct a certain number of the marks which determined
rank from the scale of the offending student. M. Viau used
to hold over us this threat, which, I believe, he never executed,
"Young zhentlemen, I shall be obliged to deduce from you."
He was followed by the Comte de la Porte, a gentleman in bearing
and of a good deal of dignity. The Count was asked one day
by Nat Perry, a member of the class from New Hampshire who
was very proud of his native State and always boasting of
the exploits in war and peace of the people of New Hampshire,
what sort of a French scholar M. Viau, his predecessor, was.
The Count replied: "He was not a fit teacher for young gentlemen.
He was an ignorant person from the Provinces. He did not
have the Parisian accent. He did not know the French language
in its purity. It would be as if somebody were to undertake
to teach English who came from New Hampshire or some such
place." The Count said this in entire innocence. It was
received with a roar of laughter by the class, and the indignation
and wrath of Perry may well be imagined.
Another instructor in modern languages was Dr. Bachi. He
was a very accomplished gentleman. His translations of Italian
poetry, especially of Dante and Tasso, were exquisite. It
was like hearing a sweet and soft music to hear him read his
beloved poets, and he had a singular gift of getting hold
of the most sweet and mellifluous English words for his rendering.
"And he did open his mouth, and from it there did come out
words sweeter than honey." He once translated to us a passage
in the Inferno where the damned are suspended, head downwards,
with the burning flames resting upon the soles of their feet.
"Ah," exclaimed Bachi, "they do curl up their toes."
My class is not one of the very famous classes of the College.
Certainly it does not equal the class of 1802 or the class
of 1829. But I think it was, on the whole, very considerably
above the average. In it were several persons who became
eminent scholars and teachers, and some who have been eminent
in other walks of life. I think, on the whole, its two most
distinguished members, entitled to hold a greater place than
any others in the memory of future generations, were Dr. Calvin
Ellis, Dean of the Medical Faculty of Harvard, who died in
1883, and Judge Nathan Webb, of the United States District
Court of Maine, who died in 1902. Neither of these had very
high rank in the class. The first half of the class used
to have parts assigned at Commencement in those days. Ellis's
part was very nearly the lowest of the first half. Webb's
was higher. Webb entered college very young. He was quite
small in his stature and was known all though college as "little
Webb." He grew to a stature of about six feet after he left
college. He did, I believe, some very hard work indeed in
his senior year. Although universally liked and respected
by his classmates, he was not regarded as among the eminent
scholars. Ellis performed all his duties in College very fairly
but did not seem to care much for rank or for scholarship
until, in the senior year, some lectures on anatomy were delivered
by old Dr. John C. Warren. Ellis was filled with enthusiasm,
as were some of the other members of the class. He and I
got a skull somewhere and studied bones, processes, and sutures,
both meaning to be physicians. My zeal lasted but a few weeks.
Ellis's never abated until his death. He was at the head
of his profession in the country in his own department, became
Dean of the Harvard Medical School, and was loved and revered
by his numerous pupils as by the members of his profession.
He was one of the most simple-hearted, affectionate, spotless
and lovable of men. He died of a lingering and painful disease,
never losing his courage and patience, or his devoted interest
in science. Webb was exceedingly fond of his home, not being
very ambitious of higher office, but content to discharge
ably and faithfully and to the universal satisfaction of the
profession and the public, the duty of the important place
he held. I have seen a good many public men from Maine of
both parties. They all unite in this estimate of Judge Webb.
There is no doubt that if he had been willing he would long
ago have been made Judge of the Circuit Court, and then if
the seat on the Supreme Court of the United States held by
Mr. Justice Gray of the New England Circuit had become vacant,
I suppose he would have been called from the Circuit Bench to
that Court by almost universal consent.
Three persons, Child, Lane and Short, all very distinguished
scholars in after life, took their place at the head of the
class in the beginning. Two of them held the same place when
they graduated. Short was outstripped by Edwin Moses Bigelow,
who is now living, a lawyer, in Boston. He entered college
from the country not so well fitted when he entered as most
of the class. But he made his way by an indefatigable diligence
until he graduated with great distinction, the third scholar,
going a little above Short.
Child was a man of great genius. He seems to me now, as I
look back upon him, to have been as great a man at seventeen
when he entered college, as he was when he died. He was the
best writer, the best speaker and the best mathematician,
the most accomplished person in his knowledge of general literature
in the class,--indeed, I suppose, in college,--in his day.
He was probably equalled, and I dare say more lately excelled,
by Lane as a Latin scholar, and by Short as a Greek scholar.
He was a great favorite with the class. He spent his life
in the service of the College. He was tutor for a short time
and soon succeeded Channing as Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory.
He became one of the most eminent scholars in the country
in early English literature and language. He edited a collection
of ballads, Little & Brown's edition of the British Poets,
and was a thorough student of Shakespeare and Chaucer. To
the elucidation of the text of Chaucer he made some admirable
contributions. He was shy and diffident, full of kindness
toward persons whom he knew and to children, and of sympathy
with persons who were in sorrow, but whimsical, grotesque,
and apt to take strong prejudices against persons whom he
did not know. I suppose some of the best of our American
men of letters of late years would have submitted their productions
to the criticism of Child as to a master.
Next to him stood Lane, the learned Latin scholar. I do
not believe that anybody ever went through Harvard College
who performed four years of such constant and strenuous labor.
What he did in his vacations I do not know, but there was
no minute lost in the term time. It is said that he never
missed attendance on morning and evening prayers but once.
The class were determined that Lane should not go through
college without missing prayers once. So one night a cord
was fastened to the handle of his door and attached to the
rail of the staircase. But Lane succeeded in wrenching open
the door and got to morning prayers in time. He was the monitor,
whose duty it was to mark the students who were absent from
prayers and who were punished for absence by a deduction
from their rank and, if the absences were frequent enough,
by a more severe penalty. The next time the measures were
more effective. Lane's chum, Ellis, was in the conspiracy.
The students bored holes carefully into the door and into
the jamb by the side and took a quantity of hinges and screwed
them carefully on to the door and the jamb. When Lane got
ready to start for prayers in the morning, he found it impossible
to open the door. As soon as he discovered what was the trouble,
he seized his hatchet and undertook to cut his way out. His
chum, Ellis, who had remained quietly in bed, sprang out
of bed and placed his back against the door and declared
that the door of his room should not be hewn down in that
manner. Lane was obliged to desist. He however took his
monitor's book, marked himself and his chum absent, and submitted.
There were a good many such pranks played by the boys in those
days, in the spirit of a harmless and good-natured mischief.
I do not know whether the College has improved in the particular
or no. I do not think anybody in my day would have defaced
the statue of John Harvard.
Whether Lane will go farther down on the path to immortality
as the author of the admirable Latin Grammar to which he gave
so much of his life or as author of the song, "The Lone Fish
Ball," posterity alone will determine.
Charles Short, the third of the three whom I named as standing
at the head of the class, became President of Kenyon College
and afterward Professor of Latin in Columbia College. He
was one of the committee to prepare the revised version of
the Scriptures, and contributed largely to the Harpers' excellent
Latin Dictionary.
Another of our famous scholars was Fitzedward Hall, who died
lately in England. He was a very respectable scholar in the
ordinary college studies, but he attained no special distinction
in them as compared with the others whom I have mentioned.
He became, however, quite early, interested in Arabic and
other Oriental languages, a study which he pursued, I think,
without the help of an instructor. He had a very remarkable
career. After graduating, he sailed for the East Indies with
a view to pursue there the study of the Oriental languages
and literature. He took with him letters of introduction
to influential persons in Calcutta, and, of course, a sufficient
supply of funds. But the vessel on which he was a passenger
was wrecked as it approached the shore. He got ashore with
difficulty, drenched with sea-water, having lost his letters
of introduction and of credit, and with no resources but a
few coins which happened to be in his pockets. He knew nobody
in Calcutta. He disliked very much to present himself to
the persons to whom he had been commended by his friends in
America in that sorry plight with the possibility that he
might be suspected of being an impostor. Accordingly, he
determined that he would take care of himself. He walked
about the street to see what he could find to do. As he went
along he saw the sign of the _Oriental Quarterly Review._
He went in and inquired for the editor and asked him if he
would accept an article. The editor said that he would consider
it if it were brought in. Hall then went out and found a
bookstore. Going in he spied a copy of Griswold's "Poets
and Poetry of America." With a pencil and some sheets of paper,
he wrote an article on American literature, filled up with
pretty copious extracts. He took it to the editor of the
_Review_ who paid him for it, I think five pounds, and told
him that he should be happy to have him make other contributions.
Hall supported himself by writing for that review and some
other periodicals published by the same concern until he could
send home, get new letters of introduction and credit and
support himself as a gentleman. He spent three years in Calcutta
studying Hindostanee and Persian, and afterward, Bengalee
and Sanscrit. Later he removed to Benares, where he was appointed
to a tutorship in the Government College. Then he became
professor and afterward Inspector of Schools for Ajmere and
Mairwara. He was in a besieged fort for seven months during
the Indian Mutiny. He received the degree of D.C.L. from
Oxford in 1860. He went to London afterward to promote the
election of Max Mueller as professor at Oxford. While there
he was himself made professor of Sanscrit and of Indian jurisprudence
in London University. I saw him in England, I think in 1871,
when he was librarian of the great library of the East India
Company, having in charge not only a vast library, but the
archives of the East India Company going back beyond the time
of Cromwell. He showed me many interesting letters and documents
in manuscript of Cromwell, Nelson and other famous persons.
Professor Edward B. Whitney once told me that with the exception
of Max Mueller he considered Hall the foremost Oriental scholar
in the world. I suppose Hall would have said the same of
Professor Whitney.
Hall maintained his sturdy Americanism throughout his long
life in England. He was ready at all times to do battle,
in public or in private, when his countrymen were attacked.
I think, in many cases, if he had been at home, he would have
attacked the same things with which the Englishmen found fault.
He could not bear Ruskin. He thought he, himself, as an American
had to endure much contempt and injury from Englishmen because
of Ruskin's bitter and contemptuous speech. But when we consider
that he was an American we must admit that England treated
him very well. He had, I suppose, the most welcome admission
to all their scientific journals. In his time he was employed
on the very best and most important work done in England
in his line. He was professor of Hindostanee and of Hindoo
law and Indian jurisprudence in King's College in London,
also of the Sanscrit language and literature, and Indian
history and geography. In April, 1865, he was made Librarian
of the India Office, having in his charge the best collection
of Oriental manuscripts in the world, twenty thousand in
number.
While the catalogues of the libraries show a large number
of books published under his name, he said that the greater
part of his work had been anonymous.
In 1893 he wrote to a London magazine: "Although I have lived
away from America upwards of forty-six years, I feel to this
hour, that in writing English I am writing a foreign language."
Next in rank to Child, Lane, Bigelow and Short was Judge Soule.
Next to him came George Cheyne Shattuck Choate, one of the
well-known family of brothers of that name, sons of a Salem
physician. Choate became a physician himself. He was at
the head of the Massachusetts Institution for the Insane at
Trenton. He afterward had an establishment of his own near
New York, where Horace Greeley was under his care. I saw
little of him after we graduated. But he was nearly or quite
at the head of his department in the country. It is said
that his testimony in court involving questions of medical
jurisprudence was wonderful for its beauty, its precision
and its profound analysis.
But I am inclined to think that the one member of our class
whose fame will last to remote posterity, a fame which he
will owe to a single poem, is Walter Mitchell. He was a
very bright and accomplished person in college and a great
favorite with his friends. He studied law, but afterward
determined to become a clergyman and took orders in the Episcopal
Church. I have never heard him preach, but I have no doubt
from his distinction as a writer and scholar in college that
he is an excellent preacher. But his poem of the sea entitled
"Tacking the Ship off Fire Island" is one of the most spirited
and perfect of its kind in literature. You can hear the wind
blow and feel the salt in your hair as you read it. I once
heard it read by Richard Dana to the Phi Beta Kappa Society
at Harvard, and again by that most accomplished elocutionist,
E. Harlow Russell. I never read it or hear it without a renewed
admiration.
But the brightest, raciest, wittiest, liveliest, spunkiest of
all the youths was Daniel Sargent Curtis, one of the race
of that name so well known in Boston for excellence in various
departments. Curtis was the son, I believe, of Thomas B.
Curtis, the merchant, a nephew of Charles P. Curtis, the
eminent lawyer, and a cousin of Judge Benjamin R. Curtis.
I do not know what he would not have made of himself if he
had cultivated his great literary capacity. Certainly if
he had performed the promise of his boyhood he would have
been one of the foremost men in American literature. He
studied law but pretty soon became a banker. Soon after
he took up his residence in Italy, where I suppose he is
living now. He produced some serious poetry which he read
to some college societies. I hope for the credit of the class
and for the country and his name he may have done something
in later years which will be given to the world. It is said,
I know not how truly, that he was for many years a near neighbor
and intimate friend of Browning. When he was in college and
in the Law School the boys used to enliven all social gatherings
by repeating his good jests as, in later years, the lawyers
did those of Rufus Choate, or the people in public life in
Washington still later, those of Evarts. Such things lose
nine-tenths of their flavor in the repetition and nine parts
of the other tenth when they are put in writing. Curtis was
quite small in stature but he was plucky as a gamecock, and
a little dandyish in his dress. It is said that when he was
a freshman, the boys at the Cambridge High School, a good
many of whom were much bigger than he was, undertook to throw
snowballs at him one day as he went by. Whereupon Curtis
marched up to the biggest boy and told him if another snowball
were thrown at him he would thrash him and he might pass it
over to the boy who did it. The result was that Curtis was
not troubled again.
You could not attack or rally him without some bright reply.
Horace Gray, afterward the judge, went shooting one day and
met Curtis as he was coming back with his gun over West Boston
Bridge. Curtis asked him if he had shot anything. Gray said,
"No, nothing but a hawk in Watertown. I stopped at the Museum
as I came by, and gave it to Agassiz." "I suppose Agassiz
said 'Accipter,'" said Curtis.
When Professor Greenleaf resigned his place at the Dane Law
School, much to the regret of the students, it was proposed
to secure a likeness of him for the lecture room. There was
some discussion whether it should be a bust or a picture,
and if a bust what should be the material. Curtis said: "Better
make it Verd Antique. That means Old Green."
Dr. Beck once required his class each to bring a Latin epigram.
Dan Curtis, who was not very fond of work unless it was in
the line of his own tastes, sent in the following:
Fugiunt. Qui fugiunt? Galli; tunc moriar contentus.
"What is that, Curtis?" said the Doctor. "Dying words of
Wolfe, sir," replied Curtis. "Ah," said the Doctor with
great satisfaction. He thought it was Wolf the famous Greek
scholar, and thought the epigram highly to Curtis's credit.
I have still in my memory a very bright poem of his. I do
not think I ever saw or read it written or in print. But
I remember hearing it read in one of the college clubs more
than fifty years ago. He has Longfellow's style very happily,
including the dropping from a bright and sometimes a sublime
line to one which is flat and commonplace, as for instance
in the ode on the death of the Duke of Wellington.
Meantime without the surly cannon waited,
The sky gleamed overhead.
Nothing in Nature's aspect indicated
That a great man was dead.
This is Curtis's poem:
Wrapped in musing dim and misty,
Sit I by the fitful flame;
And my thoughts steal down the vista
Of old time, as in a dream.
Here the hero held his quarters,
Whom America holds dear;
He beloved of all her daughters,
Formerly resided here.
Here you often might have seen him,
Silvery white his reverend scalp,
Frowned above a mighty chapeau
Like a storm-cap o'er the Alp.
Up and down these rooms the hero
Oftentimes would thoughtful stray,
Walking now toward the window,
Stalking then again away.
By the fireside, quaintly moulded
Oft his humid boots would lie;
And his queer surtout was folded
On some strange old chair to dry.
In the yard where now before me
Underclothes, wind-wafted hang
Waved the banners of an army;
Warriors strode with martial clang.
These things now are all departed,
With us on the earth no more,
But the chieftain, noble-hearted,
Comes to visit me once more.
In he comes without permission,
Sits him down before mine eyes,
Then I tremble and demnition
Curious thoughts within me rise.
Slow he speaks in accents solemn,
Life is all an empty hum,
Man, by adulation only
Can'st thou ever great become.
I ought perhaps to mention a young man of most brilliant
promise, an excellent scholar and a great favorite, who died
before the class graduated, on a voyage to the East Indies
which he undertook in the hope of restoring his health,--
Augustus Enoch Daniels. He left behind him one _bon mot_
which is worth recording. We were translating one day one
of the choruses in AEschylus, I think in the Agamemnon, where
the phrase occurs [Greek omitted], meaning "couches unvisited
by the wind," which he most felicitously rendered "windlass
bedsteads." Such is the vanity of human life that it is not
uncommon that some hardworking, faithful and bright scholar
is remembered only for one single saying, as Hamilton in the
House of Commons was remembered for his single speech. Another
instance of this is that worthy and excellent teacher of Latin
and Professor of History, Henry W. Torrey. He was an instructor
in college in our time, afterward left the college to teach
a young ladies' school and came back again later as a Professor.
I presume if any member of the class of 1846 were asked about
Torrey he would say: "Oh, yes. He was an excellent Latin
scholar, an excellent teacher in elocution and in history.
But all I remember of him is that on one occasion a man who
professed to be learned in Egyptian antiquities advertised a
course of lectures, one of which was to be illustrated by
unrolling from a mummy the bandages which had been untouched
since its interment, many centuries before Christ. The savant
claimed to be able to read the inscription on the cloth in
which the mummy was wrapped and declared that it was the corpse
of an Egyptian princess, whose name and history he related.
Having given this narrative and excited the expectation of
his auditors, the wrappers were taken off and, alas, it turned
out to be the body of a man. The poor professor was, of course,
much disconcerted and his lectures, I believe, came to a sudden
ending. Mr. Torrey said that 'it was undoubtedly the corpse
of Spurius Mummius.'"
But no account of my class ought to omit the name of Henry
Whitney. He was a universal favorite. In all the disputes
which arose in all the divisions of sets or sections, Whitney
maintained the regard and affection of the whole class.
After graduating he was a very successful and influential
business man in Boston and was President of the Boston &
Providence Railroad, which under his masterly administration,
attained a very high degree of prosperity. I think he corresponded
with every member of the class, and did more to preserve and
create a kindly class feeling than any other member. It seemed
when he died as if half the college had died. He was a man
of great refinement and scholarship, and was fond of collecting
rare books. He had a great many editions of Milton which
he liked to exhibit to his friends. He had a most delightful
wit, and was the author of some very good songs and other
humorous poetry.
I do not of course undertake to give sketches of all my classmates,
either the living or the dead, or those who have attained
distinction as useful and honorable members of society. So
far as I know their career since they left college, there
is none of them of whom the class or the college need be ashamed.
The different classes had not much intercourse with each
other unless it happened in the case of boys who came from
the same town, or who came from the same school, until late
in the college course, when the members of the Hasty Pudding
Club and the Porcellian, the two principal secret societies,
formed intimacies beyond their own class in the meetings
of those clubs. There were some persons in the classes near
mine, both below and above me, with whom I had an acquaintance
in college which grew into a cordial friendship in the Law
School or in later life. Perhaps, taking him all together,
the most brilliant man in Harvard in my time was John Felton.
He went to California and became afterward unquestionably
the greatest lawyer they have ever had on the Pacific Coast.
He was in the class after mine. I knew him slightly in our
undergraduate days. But when I went to the Law School in
September, 1847, we boarded together in the same house. We
speedily became intimate and used to take long walks together
of three or four hours every day. We rambled about Watertown
and Brighton and Somerville and West Cambridge and had long
discussions about law and politics and poetry and metaphysics
and literature and our own ambitions and desires. We were
constantly in each other's rooms, and often sat up together,
sometimes until the constellations set, with the wasteful,
time-consuming habits of boyhood.
Say, for you saw us, ye immortal lights,
How oft, unwearied, have we spent the nights
In search of deep philosophy,
Wit, eloquence and poetry,--
Arts which I loved, for they, my friend, were thine.
John came of a distinguished family. His brother Cornelius
was a famous Greek professor, one of the most striking figures
about Cambridge. Another brother was Samuel M. Felton, the
most distinguished civil engineer in the country of his time;
builder of the Fitchburg railroad, afterward builder and President
of the Pennsylvania Railroad; the man who conceived the plan
of getting the New England troops into Washington by the way
of Annapolis when Baltimore was in the power of the Rebels.
Another brother was quite distinguished in college in the
class of 1851. John after he graduated went to California
and never came back from the Pacific Coast or kept up his
communication with his old friends, although he received them
with great hospitality, I am told, when they went out there.
I think he had a fancy that he would keep to himself until
he could come back in some great place, like that of Senator
or Judge of the Supreme Court of the United States. He was
a candidate for the Senate at one time, but was defeated by
a much inferior man. He was fond of argument; never was
contented without challenging somebody and was a very tough
customer to encounter, whatever side of a question he chose
to take. He liked, however, nothing better than a sturdy
resistance. To yield to him was never the way to win his
good will. The first day when we went to live at the same
boarding-house, I got into a hot dispute with him at dinner
over the Wilmot Proviso, and the constitutional power of Congress
to legislate against slavery in the territories, which was
then a burning question. John took the Southern side of that
question, although I dare say he would have taken the other
if a Southerner had introduced it, and we got pretty zealous
on both sides and walked home together continuing the argument
as we walked. As we separated, Felton said: "We will continue
this discussion to-morrow. Meantime, won't you look up the
history of the matter a little?" "Yes," said I, "and won't
you study up a little on Whately's Logic?" The answer seemed
to delight Felton, and he took me into high favor. I never
knew a man of such ready wit, although I have known a good
many famous wits in my day. But all these things evaporate
with time. Or, if you remember them, they are vapid and tasteless
in the telling, like champagne which has been uncorked for
a week. We were one day discussing some question of law at
the table, and John, who had not yet begun to study law himself,
put in his oar as usual, when Charles Allen, afterward Judge
of the Massachusetts Supreme Court, turned on him with some
indignation. "What do you know about it, Johnny? You don't
know what a quantum meruit is." "If you had it, 't would kill
you," said Felton. He was invited to the dinner given by
the people of Nevada in honor of their admission as a State,
and there was some discussion about a device for a State
seal. Felton suggested that the Irish emblem would be the
most appropriate, the "Lyre and shamrock." Once after deciding
a case in his favor, Mr. Justice Field said to him: "Felton,
I have made great use of your brief in my opinion." "Always
do that, Judge," said Felton. He possessed considerable capacity
for poetry, although I do not know that he cultivated it much
after he left college. He delivered a very successful poem
at Commencement, and gave the Phi Beta Kappa poem the next
year and read some very witty verses at the Society's dinner
the same day. He was much distressed over choosing a subject,
and put off and put off writing his poem till within a few
days of the time when it was to be delivered. And he finally
resolved, in a fit of desperation, that he would go into his
room, shut his eyes, turn round three times and take for his
subject the first object on which they rested when he opened
them. That happened to be a horseshoe which he had picked
up in the street and hung over his fireplace for luck. He
made a charming poem from this subject, on Superstition. The
opening lines are:
Just over the way, with its front to the street,
Up one flight of stairs, is a room snug and neat,
With a prospect Mark Tapley right jolly would call;--
Two churches, one graveyard, one bulging brick wall,
Where, raven-like, Science gloats over its wealth,
And the skeleton grins at the lectures on health.
The tree by the window has twice hailed the Spring
Since we circled its trunk our last chorus to sing.
Maidens laughed at our shouts, they knew better than we;
And the world clanked its chains as we cried, "We are free."
On the wall hangs a Horseshoe I found in the street;
'Tis the shoe that to-day sets in motion my feet
'Tis a comfort, while Europe to freedom awoke
Is peeping like chickens just free from their yolk
To think Pope and Monarch their kingdoms may lose;
Yet I hang my subject wherever I choose.
He goes on in a more serious strain to sketch the history
of superstition and ends with an eloquent aspiration for a
day of universal peace:
As now my thoughts like clustering bees have clung
To thee, my Horseshoe, o'er the lintel hung,
The future bard, with song more richly fraught,--
Some reverenced wrong the nucleus of his thought,
Some relic crown or virtuoso's gun,
Some nation's banner when all earth is one,--
Back through the past in mournful strain shall wind
Where demon fancies vex the darkling mind,
Where light but faintly streaks the dappled sky,
Nor Morn has shot his glittering shafts on high;
Trembling with grief and hope, his lyre shall thrill
To twilight times of blending good and ill,
Where whizz of bullets, and the clanking chain,
Jar on the praise of Peace and Freedom's reign.
In louder strains shall burst the exulting close,
That sounds the triumph o'er the struggling foes,--
The slave unbound, War's iron tongues all dumb,--
His glorious Present, our all hail To Come,
All hail To Come, when East and West shall be--
While rolls between the undividing sea--
Two, like the brain, whose halves ne'er think apart,
But beat and tremble to one throbbing heart!
He took what was then an unusual method of making himself
a good lawyer. That was to begin to deal with a legal principle
in historic order, going back to the first case where it was
announced and tracing it down through the reports, making
no use of text-books. That was the way the old lawyers before
Blackstone got their training. I have been told, though that
happened after I left Cambridge, that he and Professor Langdell,
the eminent teacher at Harvard who had introduced that method
with so much success, studied together. Whether it was Felton's
plan or Langdell's I do not know.
John Felton died suddenly in May, 1877. Everybody who comes
to Washington from California who is old enough speaks with
pleasure of his knowledge of Felton and is full of stories
of his brilliant wit. He had probably the largest fees ever
received by an American lawyer. He is said by his biographer
to have received a fee of a million dollars in one case. His
death was received with universal sorrow. All the places
of business and amusement were closed and the flags displayed
at half mast on the day of his funeral.
Another rather interesting figure among the men of the classes
above me was Thomas Hill, afterward President of the College.
He was a good mathematician and a good preacher. But he was
not as successful in the Presidency as his friends hoped.
The only thing I remember about him of any importance is highly
to his credit. One winter's day a little gaunt-looking and
unhappy pig that had strayed away from a drove wandered into
the College Yard just as the boys were coming out of evening
prayers. The whole surface of the yard was covered with a
sheet of thin and very slippery ice. It was rather hard to
stand up on it. The boys came across the pig, which was frightened
and attempted to run. After running a little, he would slip
on the ice and slide and tumble over, and then gather himself
up again and try once more. There was a general shout and
a general chase. Poor piggy strove to elude his pursuers.
His own tail was a little slippery, so that if a boy caught
it he did not hold it long. The whole college, pretty much,
engaged in the pursuit, which certainly seemed to be great
fun. But, on a sudden, there was a loud, angry shout from
a stentorian voice as Tom Hill jumped in among the pursuers,
who were just on the point of conquering the bewildered animal.
"For shame. Take one of your size." The boys saw the point,
were filled with mortification, desisted, and allowed the
poor creature to go in peace.
The boys generally boarded in the College Commons, where they
could board for $2.25 a week on one side, and on the other
called "starvation commons" for $1.75 a week. In the latter
they had meat only every other day. A few of the sons of
the wealthier families boarded in private houses where the
rate of board varied from $3 to $3.50 a week. The rooms were
furnished very simply, almost always without carpets, though
in rare instances the floors would be covered with a cheap
carpet which did not last very well under the wear and tear
of boyish occupation. The students generally made their own
fires and blacked their own boots and drew their own water.
But there was a family of negroes named Lewis who performed
those services for such boys as desired, at a compensation
of $5 or $6 a term. The patriarch of this race was a very
interesting old character. He was said to be one hundred
years old. He was undoubtedly very near it. One morning,
just as we were coming out of the morning prayers, shortly
after six o'clock, old Mr. Lewis drove by with a horse which
he was said to have bought for $5, and a wagon of about the
same value. He had a load of all sorts of vegetables which
he had raised in his little garden near where the Arsenal
stood and was carrying into Boston to market. One of his
old wheels broke and the wagon came down, spilling the old
fellow himself and his load of vegetables. He lay there flat
on his back, unable to get up, surrounded by turnips and
squashes and onions and potatoes, etc. As he lay with his
black face and his white, grizzled poll, he was a most ludicrous
spectacle. One of us asked him: "Why, Mr. Lewis, what is
the matter?" "Well," he said with a mournful tone, "I laid
eaout to go into Boston."
I suppose there was more turbulence and what would be called
rowdyism in my day than now. At any rate I do not hear of
such things very often nowadays. But it was usually of a
harmless character. There were very few instances indeed
of what would be called dissipation, still fewer of actual
vice. The only game which was much in vogue was foot-ball.
There was a little attempt to start the English game of cricket
and occasionally, in the spring, an old-fashioned, simple
game which we called base was played. But the chief game
was foot-ball, which was played from the beginning of the
September term until the cold weather set in, and sometimes,
I believe, in the spring. It was very unlike the game as at
present carried on. After evening prayers, which were over
about five or ten minutes after six, the boys repaired to
the foot-ball ground and ranged themselves on sides nearly
equal in number. If one side thought they were not fairly
matched they would shout, "More, more," until enough went
over to them from the other side to make it about equal. Then
one of the best kickers gave the ball a kick toward the other
side of the field, and there was a rush and an attempt to
get it past the goal. Nobody was allowed to pick up the foot-
ball, or to run with it in his hand. A fast runner and good
kicker who could get the ball a little outside of the line
of his antagonists could often make great progress with it
across the field before he was intercepted. It was allowable
to trip up one of the other side by thrusting the foot before
him. But touching an opponent with the hand would have been
resented as an assault and insult. The best foot-ball players
were not the strongest men but the swiftest runners, as a
rule.
The practice of hazing freshmen during a few weeks after
their entering was carried on sometimes under circumstances
of a good deal of cruelty. One boy in my class was visited
by a party of sophomores, treated with a good deal of indignity,
and his feelings extremely outraged. He was attacked by a
fever shortly afterward of which he died. During his last
hours, in his delirium, he was repeating the scenes of this
visit to his room. His father thought that the indignity
caused his death. Another was taken out from his room in
his night clothes, tied into a chair and left on the public
commons in the cold. It was a long time before he was discovered
and rescued. A heavy cold and a fit of sickness were the consequence.
There was an entertaining custom of giving out what were called
mock parts when the real parts for the exhibitions or Commencement
were announced. They were read out from a second-story window
to an assemblage of students in the yard, and after the real
parts had been given some mock parts were read. Usually some
peculiarity of the person to whom they were assigned was made
the object of good-natured ridicule in the selection of the
subject. For example, one boy, who was rather famous for
smoking other fellows' cigars and never having any of his
own, had assigned to him as a subject, "The Friendships of
this Life all Smoke."
When the parts were assigned for the Commencement, which
were given usually to the first half of the class, there was a
procession of what was called the Navy Club and an assignment
of honors which were in the reverse order of excellence to
that observed in the regular parts. The Lord High Admiral
was supposed to be the worst scholar in the class,--if possible,
one who had been rusticated twice during the college course.
The laziest man in the class was Rear Admiral. Then there
was a Powder Monkey and a Coxswain, and other naval officers,
who were generally famous for what used to be called demerits.
The members of the class to whom parts were assigned were
called "digs" and marched in the procession, each with a spade
on his shoulder, the first scholar, who in our class was Child,
as the "dig of digs," having a spade of huge dimensions.
I believe James Russell Lowell was the Lord High Admiral in
his class. The Rear Admiral in mine was borne about on a
couch or litter, supported by four men, having another one
marching by his side to carry his pipe, which he was supposed
to be too lazy to put into his mouth or take out of his mouth
himself. The procession had banners bearing various devices
and went around to take leave of the President and the different
professors, giving them cheers at their houses. President
Everett, who was a serious-minded person, was much offended
by the whole proceeding. He sent for some members of the
class and remonstrated; told them he had been obliged to apologize
to his English servant-girl for such an exhibition. I believe
our class was the last one which performed this harmless and
highly entertaining ceremony.
One of my classmates, afterward a worthy physician, was a
tall man, older considerably than the rest of the class. He
used to wear an old-fashioned blue, straight-bodied coat
with brass buttons, a buff vest, and nankeen pantaloons which
were said to have come down as an heirloom in his family from
a remote generation. He was addicted to rather a pompous
style of speech. He was very fond of playing the bass-viol,
of which he was by no means a very skilful master. He had,
as a subject for his mock part, "The Base Violation of all
Rules of Harmony." One Sunday evening he had a few friends
with him who were singing psalm tunes to the accompaniment
of his bass-viol. They made a prodigious noise, not at all
to the liking of the proctor who had the care of the discipline
of that entry, which was in Holworthy. He went to the room
from which the noise issued. It was locked and he had some
difficulty in getting in. The persons assembled, instead
of maintaining their place, betook themselves to hiding places
in the inner rooms. My classmate, however, stood his ground
like a Roman and told the officer that his room was his castle
and that he had no right to come in. The matter was reported
to the Faculty and the musician sent for. Instead of submitting
himself, however, he maintained very sturdily that the visit
of the official to his room was an outrage which he ought
not be asked to endure. He made quite an oration to the Faculty.
Thereupon he was sentenced, more for his contumacy than for
the original offence, to suspension from the college for two
or three months. The class were very indignant and determined
to manifest their indignation in a way that should be understood.
They got a chariot with six white horses which drove up to
his door in Holworthy at midday. Nearly the whole college
assembled to see him off. He came out and took his seat in
solitary state in the chariot. Some eight or ten of the class
on horseback accompanied him as outriders. They drove into
Boston to the front door of the Tremont House in great state.
It was just at the time the Governor-General of Canada, I
think Lord Elgin, was expected in Boston on a great occasion
in the history of the city. The waiters and landlord at the
Tremont House thought the English nobleman had arrived and
hurried down the steps to open the door and meet him. But
he got out of his carriage with his carpet-bag in his hand
and disappeared in a humble fashion round the corner. The
Faculty were very indignant and thought of disciplining severely
the members of the class who had got up the burlesque, especially
the outriders. Edward Everett then had under consideration
the question whether he would accept the Presidency of the
College. It was thought that if a rebellion occurred then
he would decide against undertaking the responsibility. So
they let the whole matter pass.
The principal figure in this scene used to be a thorn in
the flesh of Professor Channing. He used to insert very
pompous and magniloquent sentences in his themes, much to
Channing's disgust. One day Channing took up a theme and
held it up and called out, X. X. came to the chair by the
Professor's side, and the Professor read, in his shrill voice:
"'The sable sons of Afric's burning coast.' You mean negroes,
I suppose." He admitted that he did. The Professor took
his pen and drew a line over the sentence he had read and
substituted the word "negroes" above the line, much to X.'s
mortification.
I was guilty of one practical joke of which I have repented
all my days, but for which the poetical justice of Providence
administered to me, many years afterward, a punishment in
kind. There was a classmate who sat next to me in the recitation
in the sophomore year, whom everybody knew and liked, but
who was not very much interested in study. He got along as
he best could by his native wits and such little application
as he found absolutely necessary. One day we were reciting
in Lowth's Grammar. The Bishop says that in English the substantive
singular is made plural for the most part by adding s. Professor
Channing called up this classmate of mine, who stated this
as follows: "The author says that the distinction between
nouns in the singular and plural is that the latter end in
s." "Is that a good distinction?" asked the Professor. My
neighbor answered with great confidence, "No, sir," as he
was well warranted in doing from the form of the question.
"Can't you give us some instance of words in the singular
number that end in s?" said the Professor. My friend, who
was considerable embarrassed, stammered, was staggered, and
hesitated a moment. I whispered in his ear, "Hoss," on which
he, without any reflection, blurted out, "Hoss." There was
a roar of laughter from the class, and the poor fellow sat
down, much distressed at his blunder. Channing dismissed
the class, and the next day gave us a lecture. He said our
uproarious laughter had disturbed Dr. Walker's recitation
in the neighboring room, "especially you, Curtis, with your
pit laugh." I ought to have risen up instantly and avowed
myself the guilty cause of my classmate's innocent blunder.
But, much to my own shame and disgrace, I did not do it. But
some forty years afterward, I was engaged in an earnest discussion
in the Senate Chamber with Butler of South Carolina, at the
time of the passage of the first Civil Service law. Butler
favored the law and his whole bearing in the discussion was
exceedingly proper and creditable. We were talking of some
prohibition, of some clause forbidding the imposing assessments
upon office-holders for political purposes, and it was proposed
to except from the prohibition voluntary contributions for
proper election purposes. Butler asked me what I should consider
improper election purposes. I hesitated a moment when Miller
of California, who was a man of a good deal of fun, whispered
in my ear, "Buying shotguns to shoot negroes with," which
I, without reflecting and indeed hardly conscious of what
I was saying, repeated aloud. Butler, who was a man of high
spirit, and quick temper, was furious. He came down upon
me with a burst of wrath. I tried to interrupt him. But
he was so angry that it was impossible to interrupt him and
said something which made it seem to me impossible either
to explain or apologize. But I regretted the transaction
exceedingly, and have always considered that I was well punished
for my joke at the expense of my unhappy classmate.
An anecdote came down from a class before my time which I
think ought not to be lost. One of the boys when the cold
weather came on in the first term of his freshman year took
out from the college library a book which was nearly the largest
and thickest volume it contained. It was the works of Bishop
Williams, who I think was one of the seven bishops persecuted
by James II. The book contained an exceedingly dull treatise
on theology. The youth had no special literary tastes, of
which anybody knew, and that was the only book he was ever
known to take out. He kept it out the six weeks which were
allowed, and then renewed it, not taking it back to the library
until the hot weather of the following summer. He repeated
this in his sophomore and junior and senior years. Dr. Harris,
the librarian, was very much puzzled and asked some of the
boys if they could tell him why this young man kept Bishop
Williams's works so constantly. None of the boys knew. They
used to see it lying on his table, but never saw any signs
of his reading it. At last one winter night late in the senior
year something happened which caused a good deal of excitement.
Several of the boys who were down in the yard rushed up in
great haste to this classmate's room. It happened to be unlocked.
They got in without knocking and found him undressed with
nothing on but his nightgown. His bed happened to be near
the fire, and standing up on the edge in front of the fire
was Bishop Williams's works. It turned out that he was in
the habit of thoroughly warming the book and then of putting
it in the bed before he got in himself, so that it would serve
the function of a warming-pan. The young gentleman turned
out in after life to be a very distinguished Bishop himself,
an eminent champion of the doctrines of the Episcopal Church,
which he had doubtless acquired by absorption.
The boys were always ready for mischief and always kind and
easily moved to sympathy. One day just before prayers there
was found on the square in front of Willard's Hotel a large
load of straw. The owner had stopped and unhitched his horses
to feed them at Willard's stable. Some mischievous boy set
fire to the load and it burned with a blaze which illuminated
the whole neighborhood. Pretty soon the owner appeared in
a state of great distress; said he was a very poor man; that
he was moving his household furniture and that his beds, chairs,
and all the goods he had in the world were in the cart covered
up with the straw. The boys immediately took up a subscription
and sent the fellow off well satisfied with his sale. It
was said he got about twice as much as the value he set on
all his goods, and that about a week after he appeared with
another load of straw which he left exposed in the same place
at the same time in the afternoon. I believe that was not
molested.
The people of Cambridge in those days were a quiet folk.
The students did not go much into the society of the town
unless they happened to have some kindred there. There were
a great many old houses, some of which are standing now, built
before the Revolutionary War. Some had been occupied by old
Tories. Among them was the Craigie House still standing,
having been Washington's headquarters, and now more famous
still as the residence of Longfellow. There were a few old
gentlemen wandering about the streets who were survivors of
the generation which just followed the Revolutionary War,
among them Dr. Jennison, the old physician, and Dr. Popkin,
the old Greek professor, of whom a delightful life was written
by President Felton. Mr. Sales, an old Spaniard, had given
lessons in Spanish from time immemorial. He was a queer looking
old gentleman, who had his gray hair carefully dressed every
day by a barber, wearing an ancient style of dress, covered
with snuff, but otherwise scrupulously neat. He had a curious
bend and walk, which made him seem a little like a dog walking
on his hind legs. He was very fond of the boys and they
of him. He made full allowance for the exuberance of youth.
Two careless students who were driving in a sleigh ran against
him in the street and knocked him over and injured him severely.
But the old fellow would not betray their names and had nothing
to say when somebody talked severely of their carelessness
but "Oh, oh, young blood, young blood." I never saw him in
the least disturbed or angry with anything the boys said or
did except on one occasion. Henry Whitney said, in reciting
in Don Quixote, in the course of some discussion, "By Jingo,
Mr. Sales." Sales was struck with horror. He said it was
the most horrible phrase that ever came from the lips of mortal
man, and he should think the walls of the building where they
were would fall down on Whitney's head and overwhelm him.
What awful and mysterious meaning the words "by Jingo" had
for the old Spanish gentleman we never could discover. He
declined to give any explanation and treated the subject
as one to be avoided with horror ever after. I commend the
question to the consideration of philologists.
The treatment of the students in general by the authorities
and the college was stern, austere and distant. The students
had little social intercourse with the families or the professors,
except such of them as had relatives in Cambridge, which allowed
intercourse with the families of the professors. The professors
did nothing to encourage familiarity, or even to encourage
any request for help in the difficulties of study. Indeed
a boy who did that fell into disfavor with his companions,
and was called a fish.
President Eliot in some speech, I think before the graduates
of the Latin School, speaking of his life as a boy, said
he had a great respect for his little self. I cannot say that
of my young self at Harvard. My time was largely wasted
in novel reading or reading books which had not much to do
with the college studies, and lounging about in my own room
or that of other students. I am not sure that the period of
growth from sixteen to twenty is one when it is good for a
youth to study hard. So far as my observation extends the
poor scholars who have graduated at Harvard become as useful
and eminent men in after life as the good scholars. I do
not now think of any person, who has graduated first scholar
since Edward Everett, who became in after life a very great
man, although some of them have been very respectable. Judge
Thomas Russell, who was first in the class before mine, was
a very successful and brilliant man, performing admirably
everything that he undertook. He was a good judge of the
Superior Court, a good minister to Venezuela, a good advocate,
and an excellent political speaker. But he never attained
a place in the world equal to that of his classmate Gray,
who, if I remember right, did not have a part at Commencement.
Professor Child gained great distinction in his chosen field,
but, I incline to think, would have gained the same distinction
if he had devoted himself to the same pursuits and had never
entered college at all. The first scholar in the class of
1843, the first class that graduated after I entered, was
Horace Binney Sargent, a brave soldier, and the author of
some beautiful and spirited war lyrics. But there were several
of his classmates, including Thomas Hill, John Lowell and
Octavius B. Frothingham, who attained much greater distinction.
In the class of 1844 the first scholar was Shattuck Hartwell,
a highly respectable and worthy gentleman, many years an officer
in the Boston Custom House, who spent a large part of his
life fitting pupils for college, while Francis Parkman, the
historian, Benjamin Apthorp Gould, the mathematician, and
Dr. John Call Dalton, the eminent physician, neither of whom
had a very high record, became distinguished in after life.
Among my own classmates, as I have already said, Judge Webb,
Fitzedward Hall and Calvin Ellis attained very great distinction,
although no one of them stood very high in rank. In the next
class John Felton, Judge Endicott, Judge Charles Allen, and
Tuckermann, the naturalist, were the persons who have been
most famous in after life. I believe no one of them, except
Felton who graduated the second scholar, ranked very high
in college. I myself graduated with a fairly decent rank.
I believe I was the nineteenth scholar in a class of sixty-
six. When I graduated I looked back on my wasted four years
with a good deal of chagrin and remorse. I set myself resolutely
to make up for lost time. I think I can fairly say that I
have had few idle moments since. I have probably put as much
hard work into life as most men on this continent. Certainly
I have put into it all the work that my physical powers, especially
my eyes, would permit. I studied law in Concord the first
year after graduation. I used to get up at six o'clock in
the morning, go to the office, make a fire and read law until
breakfast time, which was at seven in the summer and half-
past in the winter. Then I went home to breakfast and got
back in about three-quarters of an hour and spent the forenoon
until one diligently reading law. After dinner, at two o'clock,
I read history until four. I spent the next two hours in
walking alone in the woods and roads of Concord and the neighboring
towns, went back to the office at seven, read a little geometry
and algebra, reviewing the slender mathematics which I had
studied in college, and then spent two hours in reading Greek.
I read through Thucydides, Homer and Xenophon's Hellenica
and some other Greek books in that year. Sundays I went to
church twice, but shut myself up in a room at home the rest
of the day and read a great quantity of English literature,
including Milton, Spencer, Chaucer, George Herbert, South's
Sermons and other English classics, reading over again Butler's
Analogy and Jouffroy. It has been said that if a man wish
to acquire a pure English style he should give his days and
nights to Addison. I say that if a law student wish to acquire
a vigorous and manly English style, the fit vehicle for conveying
weighty thoughts to courts or juries or popular assemblages,
let him give his days and nights to Robert South.
I spent two years at the Law School after graduating from
the College. I cannot state too strongly my great debt to
it, and to Franklin Dexter, Simon Greenleaf, Joel Parker,
and Theophilus Parsons. I have no remorse for wasted hours
during those two years. The time in a Law School is never
likely to be wasted if the youth have in him any spark of
generous ambition. He sees the practical relation of what
he is learning with what he has to do in life. The Dane Law
School was then, and I suppose it is even more true of it
now, a most admirable place for learning the science of law
and preparing for its practice. The youth breathed a legal
atmosphere from morning till night all the year round. He
had the advantage of most admirable instruction, and the resources
of a complete library. He listened to the lectures, he studied
the text-books, he was drilled in the recitations, he had
practice in the moot courts and in the law clubs. He discussed
points of law in the boarding-house and on his walks with
his companions. He came to know thoroughly the great men
who were his instructors, and to understand their mental processes,
and the methods by which they had gained their success. The
title of old Nathan Dane to a high place on the roll of his
country's benefactors, and to the gratitude of the profession of
the law, and of all lovers of jurisprudence throughout the
country cannot be disputed.
CHAPTER VIII
1846 TO 1850. FOUNDATION OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY.
DANIEL WEBSTER.
The foundation of the Republican party, and my personal memories
of Daniel Webster, belong to the same period. I will not
try to separate them.
The story I am to tell may seem trivial enough to my readers.
But it is to me a very tender and sacred memory. The time
was ripe for the great movement that abolished slavery. If
no one of the eminent men of that day had ever lived other
men would have been found in abundance for the work. If Massachusetts
had failed in her duty some other State would have taken her
place. But in the Providence of God it was given to Massachusetts
to lead in this great battle and it was given to these men
whom I have to name to be leaders in Massachusetts. I thank
God that it was given to my eyes to behold it. The American
people have had many great affairs to deal with since that
day. They have had great trials and great triumphs. They
have won renown among the nations. They have grown in wealth
and in power. They have subdued a mighty rebellion. They
have carried their flag in triumph to the ends of the earth.
They have wrested the last vestige of power in this hemisphere
from an old and proud nation who once occupied the place that
England has since occupied and which it seems likely we are
to occupy hereafter. They have resisted many strong temptations
and acquired much glory. I am afraid they have of late yielded
for a time to one strong temptation and missed an opportunity
for still greater glory, that never will come back. But there
was something in that struggle with slavery which exalted
the hearts of those who had a part in it, however humble,
as no other political battle in history.
Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive.
And, surely, to be young was far nearer Heaven than Wordsworth
found France in the opening of the French Revolution.
I became of age at just about the time when the Free Soil
Party, which was the Republican party in another form, was
born. In a very humble capacity I stood by its cradle. It
awakened in my heart in early youth all the enthusiasm of
which my nature was capable, an enthusiasm which from that
day to this has never grown cold. No political party in history
was ever formed for objects so great and noble. And no political
party in history was ever so great in the accomplishment for
liberty, progress and law.
I breathed a pure and bracing atmosphere in those days. It
was a time of plain living and high thinking. It was a pretty
good education, better than that of any university, to be
a young Free Soiler in Massachusetts. I had pretty good company,
not in the least due to any merit or standing of my own, but
only because the men who were enlisted for the war in the
great political battle against slavery were bound to each
other by a tie to which no freemasonry could be compared.
Samuel G. Howe used, when his duties brought him to Worcester
on his monthly visit, to spend an hour or two of an afternoon
in my office. I was always welcome to an hour's converse
with Charles Allen, the man who gave the signal at Philadelphia
for breaking away from the Whig Party. Erastus Hopkins occasionally
spent a Sunday with me at my boarding house. When I went
to Boston I often spent an hour in Richard Dana's office,
and was sure of a kindly greeting if I chanced to encounter
Sumner. The restless and ubiquitous Henry Wilson, who, as
he gathered and inspired the sentiment of the people, seemed
often to be in ten places at once, used to think it worth
his while to visit me to find out what the boys were thinking
of. In 1851 I was made Chairman of the Free Soil County Committee
of Worcester County. I do not think there was ever so good
a political organization in the country before, or that there
ever has been a better one since. The Free Soilers carried
all but six, I think, of the fifty-two towns in that county.
I was in correspondence with the leading men in every one
of them, and could at any time summon them to Worcester, if
there were need.
We acquired by the Mexican War nearly six hundred thousand
square miles of territory. When the treaty was signed, the
struggle began between freedom and slavery for the control
of this imperial domain. No reader of the history of Massachusetts
will doubt her interest in such a struggle. Three things
stood in the way of lovers of liberty in the Commonwealth.
First, the old attachment to the Whig party;
Second, her manufacturing interests; and
Third, her devotion to Daniel Webster.
Massachusetts was a Whig State. There were many things which
tended to give that great political organization a permanent
hold on her people. Its standard of personal character was
of the highest. Its leading men--Saltonstall, Reed, Lawrence,
Lincoln, Briggs, Allen, Ashmun, Choate, Winthrop, Davis, Everett,
and their associates--were men whose private and public honor
was without a stain. Its political managers were not its
holders of office or its seekers of office. It contained
a large body of able and influential men who wielded the power
of absolute disinterestedness. They were satisfied if they
could contribute, by counsel or labor, to the well-being of
the State by the advancement of their cherished political
principles. They asked no other reward. The Whigs were in
favor of using wisely, but courageously, the forces of the
Nation and State to accomplish public objects for which private
powers or municipal powers were inadequate. The Whigs desired
to develop manufacture by national protection; to foster internal
improvements and commerce by liberal grants for rivers and
harbors; to endow railroads and canals for public ways by
grants of public lands and from the treasury; to maintain
a sound currency; and to establish a uniform system for the
collection of debts, and for relieving debtors by a National
bankruptcy law.
The Whig policy had made Massachusetts known the world over
as the model Commonwealth. It had lent the State's credit
to railroads. It had established asylums for the blind and
insane and deaf and dumb, and had made liberal gifts to schools.
The Massachusetts courts were unsurpassed in the world. Her
poor laws were humane. All her administrative policies were
wise, sound, and economical.
They asked from the National Government only a system of protection
that should foster home manufacture, and that they might pursue
their commercial and manufacturing occupation in peace.
Daniel Webster was the idol of the people. He was at the
fulness of his great intellectual power. The series of speeches
and professional and political achievements which began with
the oration at Plymouth in 1820 was still in progress. The
Whigs of Massachusetts disliked slavery; but they loved the
Union. Their political gospel was found in Webster's reply
to Hayne and his great debates with Calhoun. It was the one
heart's desire of the youth of Massachusetts that their beloved
idol and leader should be crowned with the great office of
the Presidency.
Mr. Webster tried to avert the conflict by voting against
the treaty with Mexico, by which we acquired our great territory
in the far West; but in vain. The Whigs feared the overthrow
of the Whig Party. The manufacturer and the merchant dreaded
an estrangement that would cause the loss of their southern
trade, and with it all hope of a law that would protect their
manufactures.
It was in this condition of things that I cast my first vote
in November, 1847, shortly after I became of age. It was
for the Whig Governor. The Whig Party was already divided
into two sections, one known as "Cotton Whigs," and the other
as "Conscience Whigs." These names had been suggested in
a debate in the State Senate in which Mr. Thomas G. Carey,
an eminent Boston merchant, had deprecated some proposed anti-
slavery resolutions by saying that they were likely to make
an unfavorable impression in the South, and to be an injury
to business interests; to which Mr. E. R. Hoar of Middlesex
answered, that "he thought it quite as desirable that the
Legislature should represent the conscience as the cotton
of the Commonwealth."
Both parties struggled for the possession of the Whig organization,
and both parties hoped for the powerful support of Mr. Webster.
The leader of the manufacturing interest was Mr. Abbott Lawrence,
a successful, wealthy manufacturer of great business capacity,
large generosity, and princely fortune. He had for some years
chafed under Mr. Webster's imperious and arrogant bearing.
He was on terms of personal intimacy with Henry Clay, and
was understood to have inspired the resolutions of the Whig
State Convention, a few years before, which by implication
condemned Mr. Webster for remaining in President Tyler's
Cabinet when his Whig colleagues resigned. But the people
of Massachusetts stood by Webster. After the ratification
of the Ashburton Treaty, he came home to reassert his old
title to leadership and to receive an ovation in Faneuil Hall.
In his speech he declared with a significant glance at Mr.
Lawrence, then sitting upon the platform: "I am a Whig,
a Massachusetts Whig, a Boston Whig, a Faneuil Hall Whig.
If any man wishes to read me out of the pale of that communion,
let him begin, here, now, on the spot, and we will see who
goes out first."
The first time I remember seeing Daniel Webster was June 17,
1843, at Bunker Hill. The students of Harvard, where I was
a freshman, had a place in the procession. We marched from
Cambridge to Boston, three miles and a half, and stood in
our places for hours, and then marched over to Charlestown.
We were tired out when the oration began. There was a little
wind which carried the sound of Mr. Webster's voice away
from the place where we stood; so it was hard to hear him
during the first part of his speech. He spoke slowly and
with great deliberation. There was little in the greater
part of that weighty discourse to excite a youthful auditor;
but the great thing was to look at the great orator. Waldo
Emerson, who was there, said of him:
"His countenance, his figure, and his manners were all in
so grand a style that he was, without effort, as superior to
his most eminent rivals as they were to the humblest. He
alone of men did not disappoint the eye and the ear, but
was a fit figure in the landscape. There was the Monument,
and there was Webster. He knew well that a little more or
less of rhetoric signified nothing; he was only to say plain
and equal things--grand things, if he had them; and if he
had them not, only to abstain from saying unfit things--and
the whole occasion was answered by his presence."
He went almost through his weighty discourse without much
effect upon his auditors other than that which Emerson so
well described. But the wind changed before he finished,
and blew toward the other quarter where the boys stood; and
he almost lifted them from their feet as his great organ tones
rolled out his closing sentences:
"And when both we and our children shall have been consigned
to the house appointed for all living, may love of country
and pride of country glow with equal fervor among those to
whom our names and our blood shall have descended! And then,
when honored and decrepit age shall lean against the base
of this monument, and troops of ingenuous youth shall be gathered
around it, and when the one shall speak to the other of its
objects, the purposes of its construction, and the great and
glorious events with which it is connected, there shall rise
from every youthful breast the ejaculation, 'Thank God, I
also--AM AN AMERICAN!'"
Mr. Webster came to Concord in the summer of 1843 as counsel
for William Wyman, President of the Phoenix Bank of Charlestown,
who was indicted for embezzling the funds of the bank. This
was one of the _causes celebres_ of the day. Wyman had been
a business man of high standing. Such offences were rare
in those days, and the case would have attracted great attention
whoever had been for the defence. But the defendant's counsel
were Daniel Webster, Rufus Choate, Franklin Dexter, and my
brother, E. R. Hoar, a young man lately admitted to the bar.
Mr. Webster, notwithstanding his great fame as a statesman,
is said never to have lost his eager interest in causes in
which he was retained. When he found himself hard pressed,
he put forth all his strength. He was extremely impatient
of contradiction. The adulation to which he had been so long
accustomed tended to increase a natural, and perhaps not
wholly unjustifiable, haughtiness of manner.
The Government was represented by Asahel R. Huntington, of
Salem, District Attorney for the district which included Essex
and Middlesex. He was a man of great intellectual vigor,
unquestioned honesty and courage, possessed of a high sense
of the dignity and importance of his office, very plain spoken,
and not at all likely to be overawed by any opposing counsel,
whatever his fame or dignity. Yet he had a huge reverence
for Daniel Webster, whom, like the other Massachusetts Whigs
of that day, he probably thought as another described him--
The foremost living man of all the world!
The case was tried three times: The first time at Concord,
the second time at Lowell, and the third time at Concord.
Mr. Webster had several quite angry encounters with the court
and with the prosecuting attorney. He was once extremely
disrespectful to Judge Washburn, who replied with great mildness
that he was sure the eminent counsel's respect for his own
character would be enough to prevent him from any disrespect
to the court. Mr. Webster was disarmed by the quiet courtesy
of the judge, and gave him no further cause for complaint.
At Lowell, where Wyman was convicted, Webster saw the case
going against him, and interrupted the charge of the judge
several times. At last Judge Allen, who was presiding, said:
"Mr. Webster, I cannot suffer myself to be interrupted." Mr.
Webster replied: "I cannot suffer my client to be misrepresented,"
To which the judge answered: "Sit down, sir." Mr. Webster
resumed his seat. When the jury went out, Judge Allen turned
to the Bar where Mr. Webster was sitting and said: "Mr. Webster."
Mr. Webster rose with the unsurpassed courtesy and grace of
manner of which he was master, and said: "Will the court pardon
me a moment?" He then proceeded to express his regret for
the zeal which had impelled him to a seeming disrespect to
His Honor, and expressed his sorrow for what had occurred;
and the incident was at an end.
At the first trial at Concord, Mr. Webster had frequent altercations
with District Attorney Huntington. In his closing argument,
which is said to have been one of great power, and which he
began by an eloquent reference to the battle of Concord Bridge,
which, he said, was fought by Concord farmers that their children
might enjoy the blessings of an impartial administration of
justice under the law, he said that it was unlikely that Wyman
could have abstracted large sums from the bank and no trace
of the money be found in his possession. He was a man of
small property, living simply and plainly, without extravagant
habits or anything which would have been likely to tempt him
to such crime. When Huntington came to reply he said, very
roughly: "They want to know what's become of the money.
I can tell you what's become of the money. Five thousand
dollars to one counsel, three thousand dollars to another,
two thousand to another," waving his hand in succession toward
Webster and Choate and Dexter. Such fees, though common enough
now, seemed enormous in those days. Choate smiled in his
peculiar fashion, and said nothing; Franklin Dexter looked
up from a newspaper he was reading, and exclaimed: "This is
beneath our notice"; but Mr. Webster rose to his feet and
said with great indignation: "Am I to sit here to hear myself
charged with sharing the spoils with a thief?" The presiding
judge said: "The counsel for the Government will confine
himself to the evidence." That was all. But Mr. Webster
was deeply incensed. The jury disagreed. Mr. Webster came
to the next trial prepared with an attack on Huntington, in
writing, covering many pages, denouncing his method and conduct.
This he read to my brother. But Huntington who, as I have
said, adored Webster, was unwilling to have another encounter--
not in the least from any dread of his antagonist, but solely
from his dislike to have a quarrel with the man on earth he
most reverenced. Accordingly, Mr. Wells, the District Attorney
of Greenfield, was called in, who conducted the trial at Lowell
and succeeded in getting a conviction. My brother, who was
very fond of Huntington, took an occasion some time afterward
to tell Mr. Webster how much Huntington regretted the transaction,
and how great was his feeling of reverence and attachment
for him. Mr. Webster was placated, and afterward, when an
edition of his speeches was published, sent a copy to Huntington
with an inscription testifying to his respect.
The general reader may not care for the legal history of
the trial, but it may have a certain interest for lawyers. Mr.
Wyman was indicted for embezzlement of the funds of the bank
under the Revised Statutes of Massachusetts, which provided
that "if any cashier or other officer, agent or servant of
any incorporated bank shall embezzle or fraudulently convert
to his own use the property of the bank, he shall be punished,"
etc. It was earnestly contended that a president of a bank
was not an officer within the meaning of the statute; but
this contention was overruled by the presiding judge, who
was sustained in that view by the Supreme Court on exception.
There was, however, no such offence as embezzlement known
to the common law. So a person who fraudulently converted
to his own use the property of another could only be convicted
of larceny; and the offence of larceny could not be committed
where the offender had been entrusted with the possession
of the property converted, the essence of larceny being the
felonious taking of the property from the possession of the
owner. Further, nobody could be convicted of larceny except
on an indictment or complaint which set forth the time and
place of each single conversion. So, if a servant or agent
appropriated the fund of his principal, the embezzlement extending
over a long period of time, and it was not possible to set
forth or to prove the time, place, and circumstances of any
particular taking, the offender could not be convicted. The
statute to which I have just referred was intended to cure
both these difficulties; first, by making persons liable to
punishment who fraudulently appropriated the property of others,
notwithstanding they had come rightfully into possession; and
next, the necessity of setting forth the particular transaction
was obviated by an enactment that it should be enough to
prove the embezzlement of any sum of money within six months
of the time specified in the indictment.
After the conviction of Wyman, the case was carried to the
Supreme Court, which held that the statute making bank officers
liable included bank presidents. But the court held that
the other part of the statute, providing for the mode of
setting forth the offence in the indictment, did not apply to
bank officers; and that they could only be held on an indictment
which described the particular transaction, with time and
place. So the verdict of guilty against Wyman was set aside,
and a new trial ordered.
Before the new trial came on at Concord, a statute was passed
by the Legislature for the purpose of meeting this very case,
extending the provisions of the Revised Statutes as to the
mode of pleading in such cases to officers of banks. It was
claimed and argued by Mr. Choate, with great zeal, eloquence,
and learning, that this was an _ex post facto_ law, which
could not, under the Constitution, be made applicable to transactions
which happened before its passage. Mr. Choate argued this
question for several hours. The court took time for consideration,
and overruled his contention. There seemed nothing for it
but to go to trial again on the facts, upon which one verdict
of guilty had already been had. As they were going into the
court-house in the morning, Mr. Choate said to Mr. Hoar,
whose chief part in the trial, so far, had been finding law
books, hunting up authorities, and taking notes of the evidence:
"You made a suggestion to me at the last trial which I did
not attend to much at the time; but I remember thinking afterward
there was something in it." Mr. Hoar replied: "It seems to
me that Wyman cannot be convicted of embezzlement unless the
funds of the bank were entrusted to him. They must either
have been in his actual possession or under his control.
There is nothing in the office of president which involves
such an authority. It cannot exist unless by the express
action of the directors, or as the result of a course of
business of the bank." The facts alleged against Wyman were
that he had authorized the discount of the notes of some
friends of his who were irresponsible, and that he had, in
some way, shared the proceeds. Mr. Choate seized upon the
suggestion. The Government witnesses, who were chiefly the
directors of the bank, were asked in cross-examination whether
they had not consented that Mr. Wyman should have the right
to dispose of the funds of the bank, or to give him power
or authority to dispose of them. They supposed the question
was put with the intent of making them morally, if not legally,
accomplices in his guilt, or of charging them with want of
fidelity or gross carelessness in their office. Accordingly,
each of them indignantly denied the imputation, and testified
that Wyman had no power or authority to authorize the discount
or to meddle with the funds. When the Government case closed,
the counsel asked the court to rule that as the funds were
never entrusted to the possession of Wyman he could not be
convicted of embezzlement. The court so held and directed an
acquittal. This is another instance, not unusual in trials
in court, of the truth of the old rhyme, with which the readers
of "Quentin Durward" are familiar;
The page slew the boar,
The peer had the gloire.
Mr. Webster always had a strong and kindly regard for my brother.
When Mr. Hoar visited Washington in 1836, Webster received
him with great kindness, showed him about the Capitol, and
took him to the Supreme Court, where he argued a case. Mr.
Webster began by alluding very impressively to the great changes
which had taken place in that Tribunal since he first appeared
as counsel before them. He said: "No one of the judges who
were here then, remains. It has been my duty to pass upon
the question of the confirmation of every member of the Bench;
and I may say that I treated your honors with entire impartiality,
for I voted against every one of you." After the argument
was over Mr. Webster gave Mr. Hoar a very interesting sketch
of the character of each of the judges, and told him the reasons
which caused him to vote against confirmation in each case.
The next time I saw Daniel Webster was on July 4, 1844. He
made a call at my father's house in Concord. I was near one
of the front windows, and heard a shout from a little crowd
that had gathered in the street, and looked out just as Mr.
Webster was coming up the front steps. He turned, put his
hand into his bosom under his waistcoat and made a stately
salutation, and then turned and knocked on the door and was
admitted. He was physically the most splendid specimen of
noble manhood my eyes ever beheld. It is said, I suppose
truly, that he was but a trifle over five feet nine inches
high, and weighed one hundred and fifty-four pounds. But
then, as on all other occasions that I saw him, I should have
been prepared to affirm that he was over six feet high and
weighed, at least, two hundred. The same glamour is said
to have attended Louis XIV., whose majesty of bearing was
such that it never was discovered that he was a man of short
stature until he was measured for his coffin.
Mr. Webster was then in the very vigor of his magnificent
manhood. He stood perfectly erect. His head was finely
poised upon his shoulders. His beautiful black eyes shone
out through the caverns of his deep brows like lustrous jewels.
His teeth were white and regular, and his smile when he was
in gracious mood, especially when talking to women, had an
irresistible charm. I remember very little that he said.
One thing was, when the backwardness or forwardness of the
season was spoken of, that there was a day--I think it was
June 15--when, in every year vegetation was at about the same
condition of forwardness, whether the spring were early or
late. A gentleman who was in the room said: "You have the
cool breezes of the sea at Marshfield?" "There, as at other
sea places," replied Mr. Webster. When he rose to go, he
said: "I have the honor to be a member of the Young Men's
Whig Club of Boston. I must be in my place in the ranks."
I heard him also in Faneuil Hall, in the autumn of 1844,
after the elections in Maine and Pennsylvania and in the
South had made certain the defeat of Mr. Clay. I remember
little that he said, except from reading the speech since.
What chiefly impressed the audience was the quotation from
Milton, so well known now:
What though the field be lost?
All is not lost; the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield,
And what is else not be overcome.
I also saw Mr. Webster at the inauguration of Edward Everett
as President of Harvard, April 30, 1846. It was perhaps the
proudest period of Webster's life. It was also, perhaps,
the greatest day of the life of Edward Everett. Webster had
been Everett's great over-shadower. Gov. Everett would have
been, but for him, the chief public man and the orator of
Massachusetts at that time. He had returned from the Court
of St. James crowned with new laurels, and had been called
to succeed Josiah Quincy as the head of the University. By
a simple but impressive inaugural ceremony the Governor had
just invested Mr. Everett with his office, and delivered to
him the keys and the charter. Everett was stepping forward
to deliver his inaugural address when Webster, who had come
out from Boston a little late, came in upon the stage by a
side door. President and orator and occasion were all forgotten.
The whole assembly rose to greet him. It seemed as if the
cheering and the clapping of hands and the waving of handkerchiefs
would never leave off. The tears gushed down the cheeks of
women and young men and old. Everything was forgotten but
the one magnificent personality. When the din had subsided
somewhat, Mr. Everett, with his never-failing readiness and
grace, said: "I would I might anticipate a little the function
of my office, and saying--_Expectatur oratio in vernacula_--
call upon my illustrious friend who has just entered upon
the stage to speak for me. But I suppose that the proprieties
of the occasion require that I speak for myself."
It is to the credit of Mr. Everett and of that other Massachusetts
orator, Rufus Choate, that no tinge of jealousy or of envy
ever embittered in the smallest degree their hearty love and
support of their friend. They were his pupils, his companions,
his supporters, his lovers, while he lived, and were his best
eulogists when he died.
I heard another speech of his, which I think was never reported.
He appeared before a Committee of the Legislature as counsel
for the remonstrants against the scheme to fill up the Back
Bay lands.
I do not think the employment of a Senator of the United
States as counsel before the Legislature would be approved
by public opinion now.
I do not know what year it was, but probably 1849 or 1850.
He had grown old. But I learned more of the fashion of his
mental operations than could be learned from his speeches
on great occasions, especially after they had been revised
for publication. He spoke with much contempt of a petition
signed by many of the foremost merchants and business men
of Boston. He described with great sarcasm the process of
carrying about such petitions, and the relief of the person
to whom they were presented on finding he was not asked to
give any money. "Oh, yes, I'll sign--I'll sign." He then
read out one after another the names of men well known and
honored in the city. He threw down the petition with contempt,
and the long sheet fell and unrolled upon the floor.
He had a singular habit, which made it wearisome to listen
to his ordinary speech, of groping after the most suitable
word, and trying one synonym after another till he got that
which suited him best. "Why is it, Mr. Chairman, that there
has gathered, congregated, this great number of inhabitants,
dwellers, here; that these roads, avenues, routes of travel,
highways, converge, meet, come together, here? Is it not
because we have here a sufficient, ample, safe, secure, convenient,
commodious, port, harbor, haven?" Of course when the speech
came to be printed all the synonyms but the best one would
be left out.
Mr. Webster seemed rather feeble at that time, and called
upon his friend Mr. William Dehon to read for him the evidence
and extracts from reports with which he had to deal. His
tome was the tone of ordinary conversation, and his speech,
while it would not be called hesitating, was exceedingly
slow and deliberate. I have been told by persons who heard
him in the Supreme Court in his later years that the same
characteristic marked his arguments there, and that some of
his passages made very little impression upon the auditors,
although they seemed eloquent and powerful when they came
to be read afterward.
His is frequently spoken of as a nervous Saxon style. That
is a great mistake, except as to a few passages where he rose
to a white heat. If any person will open a volume of his
speeches at random, it will be found that the characteristic
of his sentences is a somewhat ponderous Latinity.
A considerable number of Democrats joined the Free Soil movement
in 1848. Conspicuous among them was Marcus Morton, who had
been Governor and one of our ablest Supreme Court judges,
and his son, afterward Chief Justice, then just rising into
distinction as a lawyer. The members of the Liberty Party
also, who had cast votes for Birney in 1844, were ready for
the new movement. But the Free Soil Party derived its chief
strength, both of numbers and influence, from the Whigs. The
Anti-Slavery Whigs clung to Webster almost to the last. He
had disappointed them by opposing the resolution they offered
at the Whig State Convention, pledging the party to support
no candidate not known by his acts or declared opinions to
be opposed to the extension of slavery. But he had coupled
his opposition with a declaration of his own unalterable opposition
to that extension, and had said, speaking of those who were
in favor of the declaration: "It is not their thunder."
He declared in the Senate, as late as 1848: "My opposition
to the increase of slavery in the country, or to the increase
of slave representation in Congress, is general and universal.
It has no reference to lines of latitude or points of the
compass. I shall oppose all such extension, and all such
increase, at all times, under all circumstances, even against
all inducements, against all combinations, against all compromises."
So the Anti-Slavery Whigs eagerly supported him as their
candidate for the Whig nomination in 1848.
If Mr. Webster had been nominated for the Presidency in 1848,
the Free Soil Party would not have come into existence that
year. There would have been probably some increase in the
numbers of the Liberty Party; yet the Anti-Slavery Whigs of
Massachusetts would have trusted him. But the nomination
of General Taylor, a Southerner, one of the largest slaveholders
in the country, whose laurels had been gained in the odious
Mexican War, upon a platform silent upon the engrossing subject
of the extension of slavery, could not be borne. The temper
of the Whig National Convention was exhibited in a way to
irritate the lovers of freedom in Massachusetts. When some
allusion was made to her expressed opinions, it was received
with groans and cries of "Curse Massachusetts." But, on the
whole, the Massachusetts Whigs shared the exultant anticipation
of triumph, and of regaining the power from which they had
been excluded since the time of John Quincy Adams, except
for the month of Harrison's short official life. But as the
convention was about to adjourn, intoxicated with hope and
triumph, Charles Allen, a delegate from Massachusetts, a man
of slender figure, rose, and with a quiet voice declared the
Whig Party dissolved. Never was a prediction received with
more derision; never was prediction more surely fulfilled.
He was reinforced by Henry Wilson, afterward Vice-President
of the United States.
Immediately on their return from Philadelphia, a call was
circulated for a convention to be held at Worcester of all
persons opposed to the nomination of Cass and Taylor. The
call was written by E. R. Hoar. My father, Samuel Hoar, was
its first signer.
This is the call. It should be preserved in a form more
enduring than the leaflet, of which I possess, perhaps, the
only copy in existence.
"TO THE PEOPLE OF MASSACHUSETTS.
"The Whig National Convention have nominated General Taylor
for President of the United States. In so doing they have
exceeded their just authority, and have proposed a candidate
whom no Northern Whig is bound to support.
"HE IS NOT A WHIG, when tried by the standard of our party
organization. He has never voted for a Whig candidate, has
declared that the party must not look to him as an exponent
of its principles, that he would accept the nomination of
the Democratic Party, and that he would not submit his claims
to the decision of the Whigs, acting through their regularly
constituted Convention.
"HE IS NOT A WHIG, if judged by the opinions he entertains
upon questions of public policy. Upon the great questions
of currency and Finance, of Internal Improvements, of Protection
to American Industry, so far from agreeing with the Whigs,
he has distinctly avowed that he has formed no opinion at
all.
"HE IS NOT A WHIG, if measured by the higher standard of principle,
to which the Whigs of Massachusetts and of the North have
pledged themselves solemnly, deliberately, and often. He
is not opposed to the extension of Slavery over new territories,
acquired, and to be acquired, by the United States. He is
a Slave-holder, and has been selected because he could command
votes which no Whig from the free States could receive.
"To make room for him, the trusted and faithful Champions
of our cause have all been set aside.
"The Whigs of Massachusetts, by their Legislature, and in
their popular assemblies, have resolved, that opposition
to the extension of Slavery is a fundamental article in their
political faith. They have spoken with scorn and upbraiding
of those Northern Democrats who would sacrifice the rights
and interests of the Free States upon the altar of party subserviency.
"The Whigs of the Legislature have recently declared to the
country, 'that if success can attend the party, only by the
sacrifice of Whig principles, or some of them,' they did
not mean to be thus successful; that they are determined
'to support a candidate who will not suffer us to be over-
balanced by annexations of foreign territory, nor by the
further extension of the institution of Slavery, which is
equally repugnant to the feelings, and incompatible with the
political rights of the Free States'; and that they 'believe
it to be the resolute purpose of the Whig people of Massachusetts,
to support these sentiments, and carry into effect the design
which they manifest.'
"Believing that the support of General Taylor's nomination
is required by no obligations of party fidelity, and that
to acquiesce in it would be the abandonment of principles
which we hold most dear, treachery to the cause of Freedom,
and the utter prostration of the interests of Free Labor and
the Rights of Freemen:
"The undersigned, Whigs of Massachusetts, call upon their
fellow-citizens throughout the Commonwealth, who are opposed
to the nomination of CASS and TAYLOR, to meet in Convention
at Worcester, on _Wednesday,_ the 28th day of June current,
to take such steps as the occasion shall demand, in support
of the PRINCIPLES to which they are pledged, and to co-operate
with the other Free States in a Convention for this purpose."
My first political service was folding and directing these
circulars. The Convention was held, and Samuel Hoar presided.
It was addressed by men most of whom afterward became eminent
in the public service. Among them were Charles Sumner, Charles
Francis Adams, Henry Wilson, E. R. Hoar, Edward L. Keyes,
Charles Allen, Lewis D. Campbell, of Ohio, and Abraham Payne,
of Rhode Island. Richard H. Dana was present, but I think
he did not speak. William Lloyd Garrison and Francis Jackson
were present, but took no part whatever. I rode to Boston
in a freight car after the convention was over, late at night.
Garrison and Jackson were sitting together and talking to
a group of friends. Garrison seemed much delighted with the
day's work, but said he heard too much talk about the likelihood
that some of the resolutions would be popular and bring large
numbers of votes to the party. He said: "All you should
ask is, what is the rightful position? and then take it."
Among the resolutions was this:
"That Massachusetts looks to Daniel Webster to declare to
the Senate and to uphold before the country the policy of
the Free States; that she is relieved to know that he has not
endorsed the nomination of General Taylor; and that she invokes
him at this crisis to turn a deaf ear to 'optimists' and 'quietists',
and to speak and act as his heart and his great mind shall
lead him."
Daniel Webster's son Fletcher was present, and heartily in
accord with the meeting; and this resolution was passed with
his full approval. It met great opposition from the men who
had come into the movement from the Liberty Party and from
the Democratic Party. The shouts of "No, no; too late" were
nearly, if not quite, equal to the expressions of approval.
But the president declared that it was passed.
Mr. Webster sulked in his tent during the summer, and at last,
September 1, 1848, made a speech at Marshfield, in which he
declared the nomination of Taylor not fit to be made, but
gave it a half-hearted support. My brother, Judge E. R.
Hoar, had been an enthusiastic admirer of Webster, who had
treated him with great personal kindness; and, as I have said,
he had been associated with Mr. Webster in the famous Wyman
trial. Mr. Webster made a speech in the Senate in August,
declaring his renewed opposition to the extension of slavery.
Mr. Hoar wrote a letter expressing his satisfaction with that
speech, and urging him to take his proper place at the head
of the Northern Free Soil movement. This is Mr. Webster's
reply. It is interesting as the last anti-slavery utterance
of Daniel Webster.
MARSHFIELD, August 23, 1848.
_My Dear Sir:_
I am greatly obliged to you, for your kind and friendly letter.
You overrate, I am sure, the value of my speech, it was quite
unpremeditated and its merit, if any, consists I presume in
its directness and brevity. It mortified me to see that some
of the newspaper writers speak of it as the "taking of a position";
as if it contained something new for me to say. You are not
one of them, my dear sir, but there are those who will not
believe that I am an anti-slavery man unless I repeat the
declaration once a week. I expect they will soon require
a periodical affidavit. You know, that as early as 1830 in
my speech on Foote's resolution, I drew upon me the anger
of enemies, and a regret of friends by what I said against
slavery, and I hope that from that day to this my conduct
has been consistent. But nobody seems to be esteemed to be
worthy of confidence who is not a new convert. And if the
new convert be as yet but half converted, so much the better.
This I confess a little tries one's patience. But I can assure
you in my own case, it will not either change my principles
or my conduct.
It is utterly impossible for me to support the Buffalo nomination.
I have no confidence in Mr. Van Buren, not the slightest.
I would much rather trust General Taylor than Mr. Van Buren
even on this very question of slavery, for I believe that
General Taylor is an honest man and I am sure he is not so
much committed on the wrong side, as I know Mr. Van Buren
to have been for fifteen years. I cannot concur even with
my best friends in giving the lead in a great question to
a notorious opponent to the cause. Besides; there are other
great interests of the country in which you and I hold Mr.
Van Buren to be essentially wrong, and it seems to me that
in consenting to form a party under him Whigs must consent
to bottom their party on one idea only, and also to adopt
as the representative of that idea a head chosen on a strange
emergency from among its steadiest opposers. It gives me
pain to differ from Whig friends whom I know to be as much
attached to universal liberty as I am, and they cannot be
more so. I am grieved particularly to be obliged to differ
in anything from yourself and your excellent father, for both
of whom I have cherished such long and affectionate regards.
But I cannot see it to be my duty to join in a secession from
the Whig Party for the purpose of putting Mr. Van Buren at
the head of the Government. I pray you to assure yourself,
my dear Sir, of my continued esteem and attachment, and remember
me kindly and cordially to your father.
Yours, etc.,
DANIEL WEBSTER
Honorable E. Rockwood Hoar.
Mr. Hoar had before had a somewhat interesting interview
with Mr. Webster to the same effect. Late in the winter,
before the convention at Philadelphia, some young Whigs had
a dinner at the Tremont House, to concert measures to support
his candidacy. There were forty or fifty present. Mr. Webster
was expected to speak to them, but his daughter Julia was
very ill. He sent them a message that he would see them at
the house in Summer Street where he was staying. So when
the dinner was half over, the party walked in procession to
Mr. Paige's house. As Judge Hoar described the interview,
he seemed very glum. He shook hands with the young men as
they passed by him, but said very little. There was an awkward
silence, and they were about to take leave, when the absurdity
of the position struck Mr. Hoar, who was the youngest of
the party, rather forcibly. Just then he heard Mr. Webster
say to somebody near him: "The day for eminent public men
seems to have gone by." Whereupon Hoar stepped forward and
made him a brief speech, which he began by saying that the
object of their coming together was to show that, in their
opinion, the day for eminent public men had not gone by, and
some more to the same effect. Webster waked up and his eyes
flashed and sparkled. He made a speech full of vigor and
fire. He spoke of his name being brought before the Whig
convention at Philadelphia, and of his fidelity to the party.
He said that whether his own name should be in the judgment
of the convention suitable or the best to present to the country
the convention would determine, and added: "If the convention
shall select anyone of our conspicuous leaders, trained and
experienced in civil affairs, of national reputation as a
statesman, he will receive my hearty support. But if I am
asked whether I will advise the convention at Philadelphia
to nominate, or if nominated I will recommend the people to
support for the office of President of the United States,
a swearing, fighting, frontier colonel, I only say that I
shall not do it."
Many people think that if Mr. Webster would have supported
General Taylor's policy of dealing with the questions relating
to slavery it would have prevailed, and that the country would
have been pacified and the Civil War avoided. I do not think
so. The forces on both sides who were bringing on that conflict
were too powerful to be subdued by the influence of any individual
statesman. The irrepressible conflict had to be fought out.
But Mr. Webster's attitude not only estranged him from the
supporters of General Taylor in his own party, but, of course,
made an irreparable breach between him and the anti-slavery
men who had founded the Free Soil Party. He was the chief
target for all anti-slavery arrows from March 7, 1850, to his
death.
When I was in the Harvard Law School, Mr. Webster was counsel
in a very interesting divorce case where Choate was upon the
other side. The parties were in high social position and
very well known. Mr. Choate's client, who was the wife, was
charged with adultery. I did not hear the closing argument,
but my classmates who did reported that Mr. Webster spoke
of the woman with great severity and argued the case with
a scriptural plainness of speech. He likened the case of
the husband bound to an adulterous wife to the old Hebrew
punishment of fastening a living man to a corpse. "Who shall
deliver me from the body of this death?" But Judge Fletcher,
who held the court, decided in favor of the wife.
The meeting which gathered at Worcester in pursuance of the
above call, inaugurated for the first time a party for the
sole object of resisting the extension of slavery. The Liberty
Party, which had cast a few votes in the presidential election
of 1840, and which, in 1844, had turned the scale in New York
and so in the nation against Mr. Clay, was willing to support
the candidates of other parties who were personally unobjectionable
to them in this respect. But the Free Soil Party, of which
the present Republican party is but the continuation under
a change of name, determined that no person should receive
its support for any national office, who himself continued
his association with either of the old political organizations.
The Free Soil Party of Massachusetts cast in the presidential
election of 1848 only about 37,000 votes, but it included
among its supporters almost every man in the Commonwealth
old enough to take part in politics who has since acquired
any considerable national reputation. Charles Sumner who
had become known to the public as an orator and scholar by
three or four great orations, was just at the threshold of
his brilliant career. Charles Francis Adams, who had served
respectably but without great distinction, in each branch
of the Legislature, brought to the cause his inflexible courage,
his calm judgment, and the inspiration of his historic name.
John A. Andrew, then a young lawyer in Boston, afterward to
become illustrious as the greatest war Governor in the Union,
devoted to the cause an eloquence stimulant and inspiring
as a sermon of Paul. John G. Palfrey, then a Whig member
of Congress from the Middlesex District, discussed the great
issue in speeches singularly adapted to reach the understanding
and gratify the taste of the people of Massachusetts, and
in a series of essays whose vigor and compactness Junius might
have envied, and with a moral power which Junius could never
have reached. Anson Burlingame, afterward Minister to China,
captivated large crowds with his inspiring eloquence.* Samuel
G. Howe, famous in both hemispheres by his knightly service
in the cause of Greek independence, famous also by his philanthropic
work in behalf of the insane and blind, brought his great
influence to the party. Henry Wilson, a mechanic, whose early
training had been that of the shoemaker's shop, but who understood
the path by which to reach the conscience and understanding
of the workingmen of Massachusetts better than any other man,
had been also a delegate to the Convention at Philadelphia,
and had united with Judge Allen in denunciation of its surrender
of liberty. Stephen C. Phillips, a highly respected merchant
of Salem, and formerly Whig Representative from the Essex
District, gave the weight of his influence in the same direction.
Samuel Hoar, who had been driven from South Carolina when
he attempted to argue the case for the imprisoned colored
seamen of Massachusetts before the courts of the United States,
one of the most distinguished lawyers of the Massachusetts
bar, came from this retirement in his old age to give his
service in the same cause; of which his son, E. R. Hoar,
was also a constant, untiring, and enthusiastic champion.
Richard H. Dana, master of an exquisite English style, the
only Massachusetts advocate who ever encountered Rufus Choate
on equal terms, threw himself into the cause with all the
ardor of his soul. On the Connecticut River, George Ashmun,
the most powerful of the Whig champions in western Massachusetts,
found more than his match in Erastus Hopkins. William Claflin,
afterward Speaker, Lieutenant Governor, and Governor of Massachusetts,
member of the National House of Representatives, and Chairman
of the Republican National Committee, was then in his early
youth. But he had already gained a competent fortune by his
business sagacity. He brought to the cause his sound judgment,
his warm and affectionate heart, and his liberal hand. He
was then, as he has ever since been, identified with every
good and generous cause. His stanch friendship was then,
as it has been ever since, the delight and comfort of the
champions of freedom in strife and obloquy.
[Footnote]
* Shortly after Burlingame came into active life, he made a journey
to Europe. The American Minister obtained for him a ticket of
admission to the House of Commons. He was shown into a very
comfortable seat in the gallery. In a few minutes an official
came and told him he must leave that seat; that the gallery
where he was was reserved for Peers. They are very particular
about such things there. Burlingame got up to go out when an
old Peer who happened to be sitting by and had heard what was
said, interposed. "Let him stay, let him stay. He is a Peer
in his own country." "I am a Sovereign in my own country, Sir,"
replied Burlingame, "and shall lose caste if I associate
with Peers." And he went out.
[End of Footnote]
Each of these men would have been amply fitted in all respects
for the leader of a great party in State or Nation. Each
of them could have defended any cause in which he was a believer,
by whatever champion assailed. They had also their allies
and associates among the representatives of the press. Among
these were Joseph T. Buckingham, of the Boston _Courier,_
then the head of the editorial fraternity in Massachusetts;
John Milton Earle, the veteran editor of the Worcester _Spy;_
William S. Robinson, afterward so widely known as Warrington,
whose wit and keen logic will cause his name to be long preserved
among the classics of American literature.
I have spoken of some of these men more at length elsewhere.
I knew them, all but two, very intimately. I only knew Joseph
T. Buckingham by sight. He edited the Boston _Courier_ with
great ability. He was a member of both Houses of the Massachusetts
Legislature. He was a member of the State Senate in 1850
and 1851. He left the _Courier_ in June, 1848, about the
time the Free Soil movement begun, and was not active in politics
afterward.
I had no personal acquaintance with Charles Francis Adams.
I have known his son, Charles Francis Adams, President of
the Massachusetts Historical Society, pretty well. He inherits
a great deal of the ability and independence which belongs
to his race. He would undoubtedly have taken a very high
place in the public and official life of his generation if
he had found himself in accord with either of the great political
parties.
I do not think anybody, except the very intimate friends
of Charles Francis Adams, was aware of his great abilities
until he manifested them amid the difficulties of the English
Mission. They were known, however, to a few men who were
intimate with him. I was quite astonished one day when I
called on Dr. Palfrey, at his house in Cambridge in 1852,
and he told me Mr. Adams was entirely competent for the office
of President of the United States.
Mr. Adams was rather dull as a public speaker. He was apt
to announce commonplaces slowly and deliberately, as if they
were something he thought his audience was listening to for
the first time. But the influence of his historic name was
very great. His marvellous resemblance to his father and
grandfather made a great impression. When he said at Worcester
on the 28th of June, 1848: "I say, in words to which I have
a hereditary right, 'Sink or Swim, Live or Die, Survive or
Perish, I give my hand and my heart to this movement,'" it
seemed to the audience as if old John Adams had stepped down
from Trumbull's picture of the Signing of the Declaration
of Independence to give his benediction.*
[Footnote]
* I like very much the epitaph which his sons placed over him in
the burial place at Quincy. Every word of it is true.
THIS STONE
MARKS THE GRAVE OF
CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS
SON OF JOHN QUINCY
AND LOUISA CATHERINE (JOHNSON)
ADAMS
BORN 18 AUGUST 1807
Trained from his youth in politics and letters
His manhood strengthened by the convictions
Which had inspired his fathers
He was among the first to serve
And among the most steadfast to support
That new revolution
Which restored the principles of liberty
To public law
And secured to his country
The freedom of its soil
During seven troubled and anxious years
Minister of the United States in England
afterward arbitrator at the tribunal of Geneva
He failed in no task which his Government imposed
Yet won the respect and confidence
of two great nations
Dying 21 November 1886
He left the example
of high powers nobly used
and the remembrance
of a spotless name.
[End of Footnote]
Besides these more conspicuous leaders, there was to be found,
in almost every town and village in Massachusetts, some man
eminent among his neighbors for purity of life, for philanthropy,
and for large intelligence who was ready to join the new party.
The glowing hopes and dreams and aspirations of youth were
inspirited by the muse of Whittier and Longfellow and Lowell
and Bryant. The cause of free labor appealed to the strongest
sympathies of the mechanics of Essex and the skilled laborers
of Worcester.
Four years afterward Daniel Webster, as he lay dying at Marshfield,
said to the friend who was by his side: "The Whig candidate
will obtain but one or two States, and it is well; as a national
party, the Whigs are ended."
The Whig Party retained its organization in Massachusetts
until 1856; but its intellect and its moral power were gone.
Mr. Winthrop, as appears from the excellent "Life" published
by his son, had no sympathy with Mr. Webster's position. Mr.
Webster died, a disappointed man, in the autumn of 1852. He
took no part in political affairs in Massachusetts after 1850.
Mr. Choate, who was to follow his great leader to the grave
within a few years, transferred his allegiance to the Democrats.
Mr. Everett, after a brief service in the Senate, a service
most uncongenial to his own taste, resigned his seat in the
midst of the angry conflict on the Nebraska bill, and devoted
himself to literary pursuits until, when the war broke out,
he threw himself with all his zeal, power, and eloquence into
the cause of his country.
CHAPTER IX
LIFE IN WORCESTER
After leaving college I studied for a year in my brother's
office in Concord, then for two years at the Harvard Law
School, and afterward for four months in the office of Judge
Benjamin F. Thomas in Worcester. I was led to choose Worcester
as a place to live in chiefly for the reason that that city
and county were the stronghold of the new Anti-Slavery Party,
to which cause I was devoted with all my heart and soul. I
have never regretted the choice, and have spent my life there,
except when in Washington, for considerably more than half
a century. In that time Worcester has grown from a city of
fifteen thousand to a city of one hundred and thirty thousand
people. I can conceive of no life more delightful for a man
of public spirit than to belong to a community like that which
combines the youth and vigor and ambition of a western city
with the refinement and conveniences, and the pride in a noble
history, of an old American community. It is a delight to
see it grow and a greater delight to help it grow,--to help
improve its schools, and found its Public Library, and help
lay the foundations of great institutions of learning. Worcester
had an admirable Bar, admirable clergymen, and physicians
of great skill and eminence. Among her clergymen was Edward
Everett Hale, then in early youth, but already famous as a
preacher throughout the country. There was no Unitarian pulpit
where he was not gladly welcomed. So his congregation here,
by way of exchange, heard the most famous pulpit orators of
the country.
Among the physicians was Dr. Joseph Sargent, a man then without
a superior in his profession in Massachusetts. The friendship
I formed with him in 1849 lasted till his death, more than
forty years afterward.
The mechanics of Worcester were unsurpassed for their ingenuity
anywhere on the face of the earth. Worcester was the centre
and home of invention. Within a circle of twelve miles radius
was the home of Blanchard, the inventor of the machine for
turning irregular forms; of Elias Howe, the inventor of the
sewing machine; of Eli Whitney, the inventor of the cotton
gin, which doubled the value of every acre of cotton-producing
land in the country; of Erastus B. Bigelow, the inventor
of the carpet machine; of Hawes, the inventor of the envelope
machine; of Crompton and Knowles, the creators and perfectors
of the modern loom; of Ruggles, Nourse and Mason, in whose
establishment the modern plow was brought to perfection, and
a great variety of other agricultural implements invented
and improved. There were many other men whose inventive genius
and public usefulness were entitled to rank with these. The
first house-warming furnace was introduced here, and the second
cupola furnace was set up near by.
These inventors and mechanics were all men of great public
spirit, proud of Worcester, of its great achievements, and
its great hope. They got rich rapidly. They and their households
made social life most delightful. There was little pride
of family or wealth. Men and women were welcomed everywhere
on their merits.
The City of Worcester was the heart of one of the foremost
agricultural counties in the country. The county stood fourth
among American counties in the value of its agricultural products,
and the proportion of the value of the product to the value
of the lands. It was the spot on the face of the earth where
labor got the largest proportion of the joint product of labor
and capital. The farmers made an excellent living. They
made excellent legislators, excellent town officers, excellent
jurors, and excellent clients. I have been at some time or
other in my life counsel for every one of the fifty-two towns
in Worcester County. I had a large clientage among the farmers.
In the intimacy of that relation I got a knowledge of the
inmost soul and heart of a class of men who I think constituted
what was best in American citizenship, a knowledge which has
been a great educational advantage to me and valuable in a
thousand ways in my public and professional life.
From the first of December, 1849, until the fourth of March,
1869, I was diligently employed in my profession, save for
a single year's service in each house of the Massachusetts
Legislature. But during all that time I kept a very zealous
interest in political affairs. I was Chairman of the County
Committee for several years, made political speeches occasionally,
presided at political meetings, always attended the caucus
and was in full sympathy and constant communication with the
Free Soil and Republican leaders.
The Worcester Bar in my time afforded a delightful companionship.
It was like a college class in the old days. My best and
most cordial friends were the men whom I was constantly encountering
in the courts. The leaders of the Bar when I was admitted
to it,--Charles Allen, Emory Washburn, Pliny Merrick, Benjamin
F. Thomas, Peter C. Bacon,--would have been great leaders
at any Bar in the United States, or on any circuit in England.
Study at a law school is invaluable to the youth if he is
to rise in his profession; but there is no law school like
a court-house when such men are conducting trials. The difficult
art of cross-examination, the more difficult art of refraining
from cross-examination, can only be learned by watching men
who are skilled in the active conduct of trials.
The Supreme Court of Massachusetts at that day with Chief
Justice Shaw at its head was without an equal in the country
and not surpassed by the Supreme Court of the United States
itself. I can conceive of no life more delightful than that
of a lawyer in good health, and with good capacity, and with
a sufficient clientage, spent in that manly emulation and
honorable companionship.
The habit of giving dissenting opinions which has become
so common both in the Supreme Court of the United States
and of late in the Massachusetts Supreme Court did not then
exist. If there were a division on an important question
of law the statement of the result was usually "a majority
of the Court is of opinion." That was all. I do not believe
any court can long retain public confidence and respect when
nearly all its opinions in important matters are accompanied
by a powerful attack on the soundness of the opinion and the
correctness of the judgment from the Bench itself. The Reporter
of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts is, I believe, authorized
to report the decisions of the court more or less at length
at his discretion. If he would exercise that discretion by
an absolute refusal to print dissenting opinions, except in
a few very great and exceptional cases, he would have the
thanks of the profession. It may be harder to put a stop
to the practice in the Supreme Court of the United States.
That will have to be done, if at all, by the good sense of
the Judges. The recent opinions of the Court in what are
known as the Insular Cases have shocked the country and greatly
diminished the weight and authority of the tribunal. This
was not because of public disapproval of the opinion of the
Court. It was because upon one of the greatest questions
of Constitutional law and Constitutional liberty that ever
went to judgment, there could be found no single reason for
the decision of the Court strong enough to convince any two
judges.
The fact that I have been for nearly thirty-five years in
public life, and likely to be, if I live, in public life a few
years longer, is an instance of how--
The best laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft a-gley.
Down to the time I was admitted to the Bar, and indeed for
a year later, my dream and highest ambition were to spend
my life as what is called an office lawyer, making deeds and
giving advice in small transactions. I supposed I was absolutely
without capacity for public speaking. I expected never to
be married; perhaps to earn twelve or fifteen hundred dollars
a year, which would enable me to have a room of my own in
some quiet house, and to earn enough to collect rare books
that could be had without much cost. I can honestly say with
George Herbert: "I protest and I vow I even study thrift,
and yet I am scarce able, with much ado, to make one half
year's allowance shake hands with the other. And yet if a
book of four or five shillings come in my way, I buy it, though
I fast for it; yea, sometimes of ten shillings."
But I happened one night in the autumn of 1850 to be at a
great mass meeting in the City Hall, at Worcester, which
Charles Allen was expected to address. It was the year of
the Compromise Measures, including the Fugitive Slave Law,
and of Daniel Webster's 7th of March speech. Judge Allen,
as he was somewhat apt to do, came in late. A vast audience
had gathered and were waiting. Nobody seemed ready to speak.
Somebody started the cry, "Hoar! Hoar!" My father and brother
were known as leaders in the Free Soil Party, and that I suppose
made somebody call on me. I got up in my place in the middle
of the hall in great confusion. There were shouts of "platform,"
"platform." I made my way to the platform, hoping only to
make my excuses and get off without being detected. But the
people were disposed to be good-natured, and liked what I
said. Dr. Stone, the famous stenographic reporter, was present
and took it down. It was printed in the Free Soil papers,
and from that time I was in considerable demand as a public
speaker. The coalition between the Free Soilers and Democrats
carried the State of Massachusetts that year and elected Sumner
Senator and Boutwell Governor. The next year Worcester failed
to elect her representatives to the Legislature, which were
voted for all on one ticket and required a majority, and there
was to be a second election on the fourth Monday of November.
There was a delegate convention to nominate representatives,
of which I was a member. When the vote was announced, to
my surprise and consternation, I was one of the persons nominated.
Nobody had said a word to me about it beforehand. That was
Friday night. I told the Convention I could not accept such
a nomination without my father's approval. I was then twenty-
five years old. It was proposed that the Convention adjourn
until the next evening, and that meantime I should go down
to Concord and see if I could get my father's leave. Accordingly
the Convention adjourned to see if the infant candidate could
get permission to accept. My father told me he thought that
to go to the Legislature once would be useful to me in my
profession; I should learn how laws were made, and get acquainted
with prominent men from different parts of the State. So
he advised me to accept, if I would make up my mind that I
would go only for one year, and would after that stick to
the law, and would never look to politics as a profession
or vocation. I accepted the nomination, was elected, and
was made Chairman of one of the Law Committees in the House.
I declined a reelection and devoted myself to my profession,
except that I served in the Massachusetts Senate one year,
1857, being nominated unexpectedly and under circumstances
somewhat like those which attended my former nomination. I
was Chairman of the Judiciary Committee that year. I devoted
all my time, day and even far into the night, to my legislative
duties. I was never absent a single day from my seat in the
House in 1852, and was absent only one day from my seat in
the Senate, in 1857, when I had to attend to an important
law suit. It so happened that there was a severe snow storm
that day, which blocked up the railroads, so that there was
no quorum in the Senate. I could not myself have got to the
State House, if I had tried. I suppose I may say without
arrogance that I was the leader of the Free Soil Party in
each House when I was a member of it. In 1852 I prepared,
with the help of Horace Gray, afterward Judge, who was not
a member of the Legislature, the Practice Act of 1852, which
abolished the common law system of pleading, and has been
in principle that on which the Massachusetts courts have acted
in civil cases ever since. I studied the English Factory
legislation, and read Macaulay's speeches on the subject.
I became an earnest advocate for shortening the hours of labor
by legislation. That was then called the ten-hour system.
Later it has been called the eight-hour system. I made, in
1852, a speech in favor of reducing the time of labor in factories
to ten hours a day which, so far as I know, was the first
speech in any legislative body in this country on that subject.
My speech was received with great derision. The House, usually
very courteous and orderly, seemed unwilling to hear me through.
One worthy old farmer got up in his seat and said: "Isn't
the young man for Worcester going to let me get up in the
morning and milk my caouws."
When a member of the Senate in 1857, I was Chairman of the
Judiciary Committee. I made a very earnest and carefully
prepared speech against the asserted right of the jury to
judge of the law in criminal cases. It is a popular and specious
doctrine. But it never seemed to me to be sound. Among others,
there are two reasons against it, which seem to me conclusive,
and to which I have never seen a plausible answer. One is
that if the jury is to judge of the law, you will have as
many different laws as you have juries. There is no revision
of their conclusion. They are not obliged to tell, and there
is no way in which the court can know, what their opinion
was. So a man tried on one side of the court-house may be
held guilty, and another man tried on the other side of the
court-house may be held innocent for precisely the same act.
The other reason is that the court must always decide what
evidence shall be admitted. So if the jury are to be the
judges of the law, one authority must determine what evidence
they shall consider, and another determine what law shall
be applied to it. For instance, suppose a defendant charged
with homicide offers to prove certain facts which as he claims
justify the killing. The Judge says these facts do not, under
the law, justify the killing and excludes the evidence. That
may be the real point in the case, and the jury may believe
that those facts fully justify the homicide; still they cannot
be permitted to hear them. It is preposterous to suppose
that so logical and reasonable a system as the Common Law
could ever have tolerated such an absurdity. My friend, Mr.
Justice Gray of the United States Supreme Court, an admirable
judge and one of the great judges of the world, in his dissenting
opinion in _Sparf et al. v. U. S., 156, U. S. Reports,
page 51, etc.,_ has little to say on this point, except that
of course there must be some authority to regulate the conduct
of trials.
I declined a reelection to the Senate. I was twice nominated
for Mayor by the Republicans of Worcester, when the election
of their candidate was sure; once by a Citizens' Convention,
and once by a Committee authorized to nominate a candidate,
and another year urged by prominent and influential citizens
to accept such a nomination. But I preferred my profession.
I never had any desire or taste for executive office, and
I doubt if I had much capacity for it.
When Charles Allen declined reelection to Congress, in 1852,
I have no doubt I could have succeeded him if I had been willing,
although I was but twenty-six years old, only a year past
the Constitutional age.
As I found myself getting a respectable place in the profession
my early ambitions were so far changed and expanded that I
hoped I might some day be appointed to the Supreme Court of
the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. It seemed to me then,
as it seems to me now, that there could be no more delightful
life for a man competent to the service than one spent in
discussing with the admirable lawyers, who have always adorned
that Bench, the great questions of jurisprudence, involving
the rights of citizens, and the welfare of the Commonwealth,
and helping to settle them by authority. This ambition was
also disappointed. I have twice received the offer of a seat
on that Bench, under circumstances which rendered it out of
the question that I should accept it, although on both occasions
I longed exceedingly to do so.
Shortly after I was admitted to the Bar, good fortune brought
me at once into the largest practice in the great County of
Worcester, although that Bar had always been, before and since,
one of the ablest in the country. Judge Emory Washburn, afterward
Governor and Professor of Law at Harvard, and writer on jurisprudence,
had the largest practice in the Commonwealth, west of Boston,
and I suppose with one exception, the largest in the Commonwealth
outside of Boston. He asked me to become his partner in June,
1852. I had then got a considerable clientage of my own.
Early in 1853 he sailed for Europe, intending to return in
the fall. I was left in charge of his business during his
six months' absence, talking with the clients about cases
in which he was already retained, and receiving their statements
as to cases in which they desired to retain him on his return.
Before he reached home he was nominated for Governor by the
Whig Convention, to which office he was elected by the Legislature
in the following January. So he had but a few weeks to attend
to his law business before entering upon the office of Governor.
I kept on with it, I believe without losing a single client.
That winter I had extraordinarily good fortune, due I think
very largely to the kindly feeling of the juries toward so
young a man attempting to undertake such great responsibilities.
My professional life from January 1, 1850, until the 4th
of March, 1869, was a life of great and incessant labor.
When the court was in session I was constantly engaged in
jury trials. Day after day, and week after week, I had to
pass from one side of the court-house to the other, being
engaged in a very large part of the important actions that
were tried in those days. The Court had long sessions. The
judges who came from abroad were anxious to get their work
done and go back to their homes. So the Courts sat from half
past eight or nine o'clock in the morning until six in the
afternoon with an intermission of an hour, or an hour and
a quarter, for dinner. The parties to the suits came from
all over Worcester County. Frequently it was impossible to
see the witnesses until the trial came on, or just before.
So the lawyer had to spend his evenings and often far into
the night in seeing witnesses and making other preparations
for the next day. General Devens and I had at one term of
the Supreme Court held by Chief Justice Bigelow twenty trial
actions. The term resulted in a serious injury to my eyes
and in my being broken down with overwork. So I was compelled
to go to Europe the following year for a vacation.
But I found time somehow, as I have said, to keep up a constant
and active interest in politics. I was also able to contribute
something to other things which were going on for the benefit
of our growing city. I got up the first contribution for
the Free Public Library, of which I was made President. I
took a great interest in the founding of the famous Worcester
Polytechnic Institute, and I was the first person named in
its Act of Incorporation. The first meeting of its Trustees
was held in my office, and I am now the only surviving member
of that Board, in which I have retained a warm interest ever
since. In 1869 I made before the Massachusetts Legislature,
on a petition which was successful for a legislative grant
to that school, what I believe is the first public address
ever made in behalf of Technical Education in this country.
I was for some time President of the Board of Trustees of
the City Library and while President planned the excellent
reading room connected with the Library, for which I obtained
a handsome endowment by personal solicitation.
I was also Trustee of Leicester Academy.
The Worcester Lyceum, which furnished the principal course
of lectures in the city in those days, was in the hands of
some very worthy and conservative old Whigs. They would not
permit any politics or religion, or what was called Radicalism,
either in religious or social matters, to be discussed on
their platform. So we had to listen to very respectable and
worthy, but rather dull and tame conservative gentlemen, or
stay away, as we preferred. A few of the young men, of whom
I was one, conspired to get possession of the Lyceum. They
turned out in force for the election of officers, chose me
President, and we got Wendell Phillips and Theodore Parker
and Ralph Waldo Emerson and other shining lights of a newer
philosophy, much to the indignation of the old Whig magnates.
But the lectures were very successful, and at the end of my
Presidency, which lasted two or three years, we had an ample
balance in our treasury.
If I were to give an account of my professional life for
twenty years, I must make another book. It was full of interest
and romance. The client in those days used to lay bare his
soul to his lawyer. Many of the cases were full of romantic
interest. The lawyer followed them as he followed the plot
of an exciting novel, from the time the plaintiff first opened
his door and told his story till the time when he heard the
sweetest of all sounds to a lawyer, the voice of the foreman
saying: "The jury find for the plaintiff." Next to the "yes,"
of a woman, that is the sweetest sound, I think, that can
fall on human ears.
I used to have eighteen or twenty law cases at the fall term
each year. The judges gave their opinions orally in open
Court, and the old judges like Shaw and Metcalf, used to enliven
an opinion with anecdotes or quaint phrases, which lent great
interest to the scene. If Walter Scott could have known and
told the story of the life of an old Massachusetts lawyer
from the close of the Revolution down to the beginning of
the Rebellion, there is nothing in the great Scotch novels
which would have surpassed it for romance and for humor.
I think I may fairly claim that I had a good deal to do with
developing the equity system in the courts of Massachusetts,
and with developing the admirable Insolvency system of Massachusetts,
which is substantially an equity system, from which the United
States Bankruptcy statutes have been so largely copied.
The great mass of the people of Massachusetts, Whigs and Democrats
as well as Republicans, were loyal and patriotic and full
of zeal when the war broke out. A very few of the old Whigs
and Democrats, who were called "Hunkers" or "Copperheads,"
sympathized with the Rebellion, or if they did not, were so
possessed with hatred for the men who were putting it down
that they could find nothing to approve, but only cause for
complaint and faultfinding. Andrew, the Governor, Sumner
and Wilson, the Senators, most of the members of Congress,
most of the leaders in the Legislature and in the military
and political activities, were of the old Free Soil Party.
There was a feeling, not wholly unreasonable, that the old
Whigs had been somewhat neglected, and that their cooperation
and help were received rather coldly. This feeling led to
the movement, called the People's Party, which begun at a
large public meeting in Cambridge, where my dear old friend
and partner, ex-Governor Washburn, was one of the speakers.
That party called a State Convention and nominated Charles
Devens for Governor. Devens had been an old Whig. He had
become a Republican in 1856, and had been one of the earliest
to enlist in the War, in which he became afterward the most
famous Massachusetts soldier. He was a man of spirit, very
affectionate and generous, always ready to stand by his friends,
especially if he suspected that anybody had treated them unjustly.
The People's Party sent a Committee to the seat of war in
September, 1862. The Committee found Devens in his tent,
repeated to him the plans of his old Whig friends, and induced
him to accept the nomination of the People's Party for Governor.
I was called to the battlefield of Antietam, where a near
kinsman of mine had been mortally wounded, just about the
same time. I entered Devens's tent just as this Committee
was leaving it with his written acceptance in their hands.
I told him the other side of the story, told him how the
whole people were alive with enthusiasm, and that Governor
Andrew was doing the very best possible, and that these petty
jealousies, while there was some little reason for them,
ought not to affect the public action of the people. Devens
regretted very much what he had done. He told me that if
he could recall the letter, he would do it. But it was too
late.
Governor Andrew was triumphantly reelected, and Devens was
ever after an earnest and loyal Republican.
CHAPTER X
POLITICAL HISTORY OF MASSACHUSETTS FROM
1848 TO 1869
In 1848, the Free Soil Party in Massachusetts nominated candidates
for State officers. It was made up of Whigs, Democrats and
members of the Liberty Party. It had made no distinct issue
with the Whig Party upon matters of State administration.
Governor Briggs, the Whig Governor, was a wise and honest
Chief Magistrate, highly respected by all the people. But
the Free Soil leaders wisely determined that if they were
to have a political party, they must have candidates for State
officers as well as National. It is impossible to organize
a political party with success whose members are acting together
in their support of one candidate and striving with all their
might against each other when another is concerned. My father
was urged to be the Free Soil candidate for Governor. Charles
Francis Adams and Edmund Jackson visited him at Concord to
press it upon him as a duty. Charles Allen wrote him an earnest
letter to the same effect. But he was an old friend of Governor
Briggs and disliked very much to become his antagonist. He
looked to the Whig Party for large accessions to the Free
Soil ranks. A large plurality of the people of the community
were still devoted to that party. He doubted very much the
wisdom of widening the breach between them by a conflict on
other questions than that of slavery. So he refused his consent.
Stephen C. Phillips, an eminent Salem merchant, and a former
Member of Congress, was nominated. The result was there was
no choice of State officers by the people, and the election
of the Whig candidates was made by the Legislature.
The next year it occurred to the leaders of the Free Soil
and Democratic Parties that they had only to unite their
forces to overthrow the Whigs. The Free Soil leaders thought
the effect of this would be the eventual destruction of the
Whig Party at the North,--as afterward proved to be the case,--
and the building up in its place of a party founded on the
principle of opposition to the extension of slavery. So in
1849 there was a coalition between the Free Soil and the Democratic
Parties in some counties and towns, each supporting the candidates
of the other not specially obnoxious to them, neither party
committing itself to the principles of the other party or
waiving its own. In the fall of the next year, 1850, this
policy was pursued throughout the State and resulted in the
election by the Legislature of a Democratic Governor, Mr.
Boutwell, and of Charles Sumner as the successor of Daniel
Webster in the Senate. The experiment was repeated with like
success in the fall of 1851.
These two parties had little in common. They could not well
act together in State matters without some principle or purpose
on which they were agreed other than mere desire for office
and opposition to the Whig Party. They found a common ground
in the support of a law providing for secrecy in the ballot.
There had been great complaint that the manufacturers, especially
in Lowell, who were in general zealous Whig partisans, used
an undue influence over their workmen. It was said that a
man known to be a Democrat, or a Free Soiler, was pretty likely
to get his discharge from the employ of any great manufacturing
corporation that had occasion to reduce its force, and that
he would have no chance to get an increase of wages. I do
not now believe there was much foundation for this accusation.
But it was believed by many people at the time. So a law
requiring secrecy in the ballot was framed and enacted in
spite of great resistance from the Whigs. This has undoubtedly
proved a good policy, and has prevailed in Massachusetts ever
since, and now prevails largely throughout the country.
But this one measure was not enough to hold together elements
otherwise so discordant. So the Democratic and Free Soil
leaders agreed to call a convention to revise the Constitution
of the Commonwealth, which had remained unchanged save in
a few particulars since 1780. There had been a Convention
for that purpose in 1820, made necessary by the separation
of Maine. But the old Constitution had been little altered.
The concentration of the population in large towns and cities
had caused a demand for a new distribution of political power.
Many people desired an elective judiciary. Others desired
that the judges should hold office for brief terms instead
of the old tenure for life. There was a great demand for
the popular election of Sheriffs and District Attorneys, who
under the existing system were appointed by the Governor.
Others desired the choice of Senators, who had before been
chosen by the several counties on a joint ticket, by single
districts. A proposition for a Convention was submitted to
the people by the Legislature of 1851. But the people were
attached to the old Constitution. There was a special dread
of any change in the independent tenure of the judiciary.
So although the coalition had a majority in the State the
proposition for a Constitutional Convention was defeated.
The scheme was renewed the next year in the Legislature of
1852, of which I was a member. Several of the Free Soilers,
among which I was included, were unwilling to have the matter
tried again without a distinct assurance that there should
be no meddling with the judiciary. This assurance was given
in the report of a joint committee of the Legislature to whom
the matter was committed, consisting of the leaders of the
Democratic and Republican parties, who reported that there
was no purpose to change the judicial tenure with which the
people were well satisfied. Accordingly I voted for it. The
measure got a bare majority in the House which it would never
would have had without that stipulation. The plan was submitted
to the people again with a proposition that the choice of
delegates to the Constitutional Convention should be by secret
ballot. The people approved the plan by a substantial majority.
I have no doubt that the pledge above mentioned was made in
good faith and that the men who made it meant to keep it.
But before the Convention met two things happened which changed
the conditions. The coalition was wrecked. There were two
causes for its overthrow. One of them was the appointment
by Governor Boutwell of Caleb Cushing to a seat on the Supreme
Bench of Massachusetts. General Cushing was a man of great
accomplishment, though never a great lawyer. He could collect
with wonderful industry all the facts bearing on any historic
question and everything that had been said on either side
of any question of law. But he never had a gift of cogent
argument that would convince any judge or jury. He owed
his success in life largely to the personal favor of men who
knew him and were charmed by his agreeable quality. He was
regarded by the people of Massachusetts as a man without moral
convictions and as utterly subservient to the slave power.
So his appointment was a great shock to the Anti-Slavery men
and made them believe that it was not safe to put political
power in Democratic hands. General Cushing vindicated this
opinion afterward by the letter written when he was Attorney-
General in the Cabinet of President Pierce declaring that
the Anti-Slavery movement in the North "must be crushed out,"
and also by a letter written to Jefferson Davis after the
beginning of the Rebellion recommending some person to him
for some service to the Confederacy. The discovery of this
letter compelled President Grant who had been induced to nominate
him for Chief Justice to withdraw the nomination. The other
cause was the passage of the bill for the prohibition of the
manufacture and sale of intoxicating liquors, known as the Maine
law. This measure had passed the Legislature, containing
a provision for its submission to the people. It was vetoed
by Governor Boutwell. The reason assigned by him was his
objection to the provision for its submission to the people,
without the secret ballot. The referendum, a scheme by which
men charged with political duties avoid responsibility by
submitting to the people measures which they fear may be unpopular,
--has never found much favor in Massachusetts. After many
changes of sentiment, and after passing, modifying, and repealing
many laws, the people of the Commonwealth seem to have settled
down on a policy which permits each town or city to decide
by vote whether the sale of liquor shall be permitted within
their limits. The bill was then passed, without the reference
to the people. But the measure sealed the fate of the coalition.
Some of its provisions, especially that for seizing and destroying
stocks of liquor kept for sale in violation of law, were very
severe, and were held unconstitutional by the Court. The
liquor sellers, almost all of them, were Democrats. They
would not readily submit to a law which made their calling
criminal.
So the Whigs were restored to power by the fall election
in 1852. Their heads were turned by their success. They
did not quite dare to repeal the law providing for a Constitutional
Convention, but they undertook to repeal so much of it as
required that the choice of delegates should be by secret
ballot. The minority resisted this repeal with all their
might. They alleged with great reason that it was not decent
for the Legislature to repeal a provision which the people
has expressly approved. But their resistance was in vain,
and after a long and angry struggle which stirred the people
of the Commonwealth profoundly the provision for the secret
ballot was abrogated. But the result of the contest was that
the Whigs were routed at the special election for delegates
to the Convention. That body was controlled by the Coalition
by a very large majority. Their triumph made them also lose
their heads.
So when the Convention assembled in 1853, they disregarded
the pledges which had enabled them to get the assent of the
people to calling the convention, and provided that the tenure
of office of the Judges of the Supreme Court should be for
ten years only, and that the Judges of Probate should be elected
by the people of the several counties once in three years.
It is said, and, as I have good reason to know, very truly,
that this action of the Convention was taken in consequence
of a quarrel in Court between the late Judge Merrick and General
Butler and Mr. Josiah G. Abbott, two eminent leaders of
the Democrats, members of the Convention. They had neither
of them agreed to the proposition to change the judicial tenure.
They were absent from the convention for several days in
the trial of an important cause before Merrick, and returned
angry with the Judge and determined to do something to curb
the independent power of the Judges. The proposition was
adopted.
These schemes were a distinct violation of the pledge which
had been given when the Legislature submitted to the people
the proposition for calling the Convention. Of course it
was a fair answer to this complaint to say that the members
of the committee who made that report could in such a matter
bind nobody but themselves. That was true. But I think if
the men who signed that report, and the men who joined them
in giving the assurance to the people, had been earnest and
zealous in the matter it is quite likely they could have prevented
the action of the Convention.
The scheme for a new constitution passed the Convention by
a large majority and was submitted to the people. The Whig
leaders, who seemed to have had all their wisdom and energy
taken out of them when the Free Soilers left them, were much
alarmed by the strength of the discontent with the existing
order of things manifested by the coalition victory in the
election of the Constitutional Convention. Many of them concluded
that it would be unwise to resist the popular feeling. One
Saturday afternoon during that summer I was in the office
of Francis Wayland, a great friend of mine, long Dean of the
New Haven Law School, when Henry S. Washburn, a member of
the Whig State Central Committee, came into Wayland's office
and told me he had just attended a meeting of the Committee
that day and that it determined to make no contest against
the new Constitution. The Springfield _Republican,_ then
a Whig journal, had an article that day, or the following
Monday, to the same effect. I was very much disturbed. I
hurried to Concord by the first train Monday morning, and
saw my brother, who was then a Judge of the Court of Common
Pleas. He agreed with me in thinking that the proposed scheme
of government a very bad one. He went at once to Cambridge
and saw John G. Palfrey, a very able and influential leader
of the Free Soilers. Mr. Palfrey agreed that the Constitution
ought to be defeated, if possible. Judge Hoar and he sat
down together and prepared a pamphlet, the Judge furnishing
all the legal argument and Mr. Palfrey the rest, clothing
it all in his inimitable style. It was published under Dr.
Palfrey's name. Judge Hoar, being then upon the bench, did
not think it becoming to take any more public action in the
matter, although he made his opinion known to all persons
who cared to know it. Charles Francis Adams and Marcus Morton
also made powerful arguments on the same side. My father,
Samuel Hoar, also made several speeches against the Constitution.
At this defection of so many Free Soilers the Whig leaders
took heart and made a vigorous and successful resistance.
The result was that the people voted down the whole constitution.
Several of the most eminent leaders of the Free Soilers and
Democrats separated themselves from their party and joined
the Whigs in defeating it. Among them were Marcus Morton,
formerly Governor and Judge of the Supreme Court; John G.
Palfrey, who had been the Free Soil candidate for Governor;
Charles Francis Adams, afterward member of Congress and Minister
to England, and Samuel Hoar.
I was myself, at this time, an enthusiastic Free Soiler,
and was, as I have said, Chairman of the Republican County
Committee, but I joined the rebels against the dominant feeling
of my party.
The defeat of the Constitution was aided, however, undoubtedly
by a very just and righteous proposal which was submitted
to a separate vote of the people, but which had its effect
on the feeling in regard to the whole scheme, to prohibit
the use of any money raised by taxation for sectarian schools.
To this the Catholic clergy were opposed, and the Catholic
vote, not however then very important in Massachusetts, was
cast against the whole scheme.
But the Whigs did not entirely get over the feeling that
something must be done to propitiate the desire for change.
Accordingly they, through the Legislature, submitted to the
people propositions for the election by the people of the
counties of Sheriffs and District Attorneys who before that
time had been appointed by the Governor. These proposals
were ratified by the people and became part of the Constitution.
I have always thought the change a bad one. I think the Governor
likely to make quite as good if not a better choice of Sheriffs
and District Attorneys than the people. But the objection
to the new system is this. So long as the State makes the
laws, the State, whether acting by a popular vote or through
its executive, should have the power to enforce them and select
the instrumentalities for that purpose. Now if the particular
law which the State enacts be unpopular in a particular county,
and the people be determined to defeat it, no Sheriff or District
Attorney can be elected who will enforce it. That has been
shown in the case of the legislation to prohibit or regulate
the sale of intoxicating liquors in Suffolk County. Those
laws have been always unpopular and since the change in the
mode of appointment of District Attorneys and Sheriffs have
not been enforced until they were modified to meet the popular
objections. This difficulty applies also to the enforcing
of laws for the employment of children in factories. The
Legislature undertook to meet this difficulty by creating
officials, called State Constables, to be appointed by the
Governor and to enforce the liquor laws and the laws regulating
child labor. But that did not wholly cure the evil. The
officials appointed solely to enforce a law against which
there are strong objections in any quarter are always themselves
unpopular. The Sheriffs have been from the beginning officials
of great dignity, commanding popular respect and confidence.
So if it were difficult to enforce the law the character of
the Sheriff was a great force on its side. But in the case
of these particular laws persons of less dignity and authority,
often quite obscure when they are appointed, whose whole duty
is odious to the persons to be affected by it, instead of
giving dignity to the law tend to make it unpopular by their
attempts to enforce it. Indeed in my opinion the Massachusetts
Constitution of 1780 was as nearly a perfect system of government
as was ever devised. Some changes in it were made necessary
by the separation of Maine. I suppose the abrogation of the
provision that every man should pay a tax for the support
of public worship somewhere was demanded by a public sentiment
it would have been impossible to resist, and undoubtedly the
aggregation of population in the large cities and towns required
a change in the system of representation. But I think the
old method of electing Senators, where it was necessary that
a man should have a reputation through an entire county to
be chosen, to be better than the system of electing them by
small single districts, and I think the slight property qualification
was highly useful as a stimulant to saving and economy.
It is, however, a great pity that the labors of this Constitutional
Convention were wasted. It was a very able body of men. With
the exception of the Convention that framed the Constitution
in the beginning, and the Convention which revised it in 1820,
after the separation from Maine, I doubt whether so able a
body of men ever assembled in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts,
or, with very few exceptions indeed, in the entire country.
The debates, which are preserved in three thick and almost
forgotten volumes, are full of instructive and admirable essays
on the theory of constitutional government. Among the members
were Rufus Choate, Charles Sumner, Henry Wilson, George N.
Briggs, Marcus Morton, Marcus Morton, Jr., Henry L. Dawes,
Charles Allen, George S. Hillard, Richard H. Dana, George
S. Boutwell, Otis P. Lord, Peleg Sprague, Simon Greenleaf,
and Sidney Bartlett.
There were a good many interesting incidents not, I believe,
recorded in the report of the debates, which are worth preserving.
One was a spirited reply made by George S. Hillard to Benjamin
F. Butler, who had bitterly attacked Chief Justice Shaw, then
an object of profound reverence to nearly the whole people
of the Commonwealth. Butler spoke of his harsh and rough
manner of dealing with counsel. To which Hillard replied,
pointing at Butler: "While we have jackals and hyenas at
the bar, we want the old lion upon the bench, with one blow
of his huge paw to bring their scalps over their eyes."
Hillard was an accomplished and eloquent man, "of whom," Mr.
Webster said in the Senate of the United States, "the best
hopes are to be entertained." But he lacked vigor and courage
to assert his own opinions against the social influences of
Boston, which were brought to bear with great severity on
the anti-slavery leaders.
Hillard was not so fortunate in another encounter. He undertook
to attack Richard H. Dana, and to reproach him for voting
for a scheme of representation which somewhat diminished the
enormous political power of Boston. She elected all her representatives
on one ballot, and had a power altogether disproportionate
to that of the country. He said, speaking of Dana: "He should
remember that the bread he and I both eat comes from the business
men of Boston. He ought not, like an ungrateful child, to
strike at the hand that feeds him." Dana replied with great
indignation, ending with the sentence: "The hand that feeds
me--the hand that feeds me, sir? No hand feeds me that has
a right to control my opinions!"
A _bon mot_ of Henry Wilson is also worth putting on record.
Somebody, who was speaking of the importance of the Massachusetts
town meeting, said that it was not merely a place for town
government alone, but that it was a place where the people
of the town met from scattered and sometimes secluded dwelling-
places to cultivate each other's acquaintance, to talk over
the news of the day and all matters of public interest; and
that it was a sort of farmers' exchange, where they could
compare notes on the state of agriculture, and even sometimes
swap oxen. Governor Briggs, who had been beaten as a candidate
for reelection by the Coalition, replied to this speech and
said, referring to the Coalition, "that the gentlemen on the
other side seemed to have carried their trading and swapping
of oxen into politics, and into the high offices of the state."
To which Henry Wilson answered, referring to Briggs's own
loss of his office, "that so long as the people were satisfied
with the trade, it did not become the oxen to complain."
Undoubtedly the ablest member of the Convention was Charles
Allen. He spoke seldom and briefly, but always with great
authority and power. Late in the proceedings of the Convention
a rule was established limiting the speakers to thirty minutes
each. Hillard, who was one of the delegates from Boston, made
a very carefully prepared speech on some pending question.
Allen closed the debate, making no reference whatever to Hillard's
elaborate and most eloquent argument, until he was about to
sit down, when he said: "Mr. President, I believe my time
is up?" The President answered: "The gentleman from Worcester
has two minutes more." "Two minutes!" exclaimed Allen. "Time
enough to answer the gentleman from Boston." And he proceeded
in that brief period to deal a few strokes with his keen scimitar,
which effectually demolished Hillard's elaborate structure.
There is nothing in the political excitements of recent years
which approaches in intensity that of the period from 1848
until the breaking out of the War. The people of Massachusetts
felt the most profound interest in the great conflict between
slavery and freedom for the possession of the vast territory
between the Mississippi and the Pacific. But almost every
man in Massachusetts felt the Fugitive Slave Law as a personal
dishonor. I think no great public calamity, not the death
of Webster, not the death of Sumner, not the loss of great
battles during the War, brought such a sense of gloom over
the whole State as the surrender of Anthony Burns and of Sims.
Worcester, where I dwelt, was the centre and stronghold of
the anti-slavery feeling in Massachusetts. This odious statute
was, perhaps, the greatest single cause of the union of the
people of the North in opposition to the further encroachments
of slavery. Yet but two slaves were taken back into slavery
from Massachusetts by reason of its provisions. I will not
undertake to tell the story of those years which will form
an important chapter in the history of the country. But I
had a special knowledge of two occurrences which are alluded
to by Colonel Higginson in his charming essay entitled, "Cheerful
Yesterdays," in regard to which that most delightful writer
and admirable gentleman has fallen into some slight errors
of recollection.
The first person seized under the Fugitive Slave Law was a
slave named Shadrach. He was brought to trial before George
T. Curtis, United States Commissioner. One of the chief complaints
against the Fugitive Slave Law was that it did not give the
man claimed as a slave, where his liberty and that of his
posterity were at stake, the right to a jury trial which the
Constitution secured in all cases of property involving more
than twenty dollars, or in all cases where he was charged
with the slightest crime or offence. Further, the Commissioner
was to receive twice as much if the man were surrendered into
slavery as if he were discharged. Horace Mann, in one of
his speeches, commented on this feature of the law with terrible
severity. He also pointed out that the Commissioner was not
a judicial officer with an independent tenure, but only the
creature of the courts and removable at any time. He also
dwelt upon what he conceived to be the unfair dealing of the
Commissioners who had presided at the trial of the three
slaves who had been tried in Massachusetts, and added: "Pilate,
fellow-citizens, was at least a Judge, though he acted like
a Commissioner."
Elizur Wright, a well-known Abolitionist, editor of the _Chronotype,_
was indicted in the United States Court for aiding in the
rescue of Shadrach. While the hearing before Geo. T. Curtis
on the proceedings for the rendition of Shadrach was going
on, a large number of men, chiefly negroes, made their way
into the court-room by one door, swept through, taking the
fugitive along with them, and out at the other, leaving the
indignant Commissioner to telegraph to Mr. Webster in Washington
that he thought it was a case of levying war. I went into
the court-room during the trial of Mr. Wright, and saw seated
in the front row of the jury, wearing a face of intense gravity,
my old friend Francis Bigelow, always spoken of in Concord
as "Mr. Bigelow, the blacksmith." He was a Free Soiler and
his wife a Garrison Abolitionist. His house was a station
on the underground railroad where fugitive slaves were harbored
on their way to Canada. Shadrach had been put into a buggy
and driven out as far as Concord, and kept over night by Bigelow
at his house, and sent on his way toward the North Star the
next morning. Richard H. Dana, who was counsel for Elizur
Wright, asked Judge Hoar what sort of man Bigelow was. To
which the Judge replied: "He is a thoroughly honest man, and
will decide the case according to the law and the evidence
as he believes them to be. But I think it will take a good
deal of evidence to convince him that one man owns another."
It is not, perhaps, pertinent to my personal recollections
but it may be worth while to tell my readers that Theodore
Parker, Wendell Phillips, and some others were indicted afterward
for participation in an intended rescue of Anthony Burns,
another fugitive slave. The indictment was quashed by Judge
Curtis, who had probably got pretty sick of the whole thing.
But Parker, while in jail awaiting trial, prepared a defence,
which is printed, and which is one of the most marvellous
examples of scathing and burning denunciation to be found
in all literature. I commend it to young men as worth their
study.
Some time after the Shadrach case, Asa O. Butman, a United
States Deputy Marshal, who had been quite active and odious
in the arrest and extradition of Burns, came to Worcester
one Saturday afternoon, and stopped at the American Temperance
House. This was October 30, 1854. It was believed that he
was in search of information about some fugitive negroes who
were supposed to be in Worcester, and I suppose that to be
the fact, although it was claimed that his errand was to summon
witnesses against persons concerned in the riot which took
place when Burns was captured. The fact of his presence became
known in the course of the day on Sunday, and a pretty angry
crowd began to gather in the streets in the neighborhood of
the American House. Butman learned his danger, and took refuge
in the City Marshal's office in the City Hall, where the police
force of the city were gathered for his protection. No attack
was made during the night, but it was not deemed prudent to
have Butman leave his shelter. I had been to Concord to spend
Sunday with my kindred there. I got to Worcester at nine
o'clock Monday morning, and was told at the station of the
condition of things. I went immediately to the City Hall,
made my way through the crowd to the building, and was admitted
to the police office by the City Marshal, who was my client,
and apt to depend on me for legal advice. I found Butman
in a state of great terror. It was evident that the crowd
was too large for any police force which the little city had
in its service. Unless it should be pacified, something was
likely to happen which we should all have much regretted.
I accordingly went out and addressed the crowd from the steps
of the City Hall. They listened to me respectfully enough.
I was pretty well known through the city as an earnest Free
Soiler, and as sharing the public feeling of indignation
against the delivering up of fugitives. I reminded the crowd
that my father and sister had been expelled from Charleston,
S. C., where he had gone at the risk of his life to defend
Massachusetts colored sailors who were imprisoned there, and
appealed to them not to give the people of South Carolina
the right to excuse their own conduct by citing the example
of Massachusetts. There were shouts from the crowd: "Will
he promise to leave Worcester and never come back?" Butman,
who was inside, terribly frightened, said he would promise
never to come to Worcester again as long as he lived. I did
not, however, repeat Butman's promise to the crowd. I thought
he ought to go without conditions. The time approached for
the train to pass through Worcester for Boston. It went from
a little wooden station near the site of the present Union
Depot, about half a mile from the City Hall. It was determined,
on consultation, to take advantage of an apparently pacific
mood of the crowd, and to start Butman at once for the station
in time to catch the train. I took one arm and I am quite
sure Colonel Higginson took the other; a few policemen went
ahead and a few behind; and we started from the back door
of the City Hall. The mob soon found what we were after and
thronged around us. It has been estimated that a crowd of
two thousand people at least surrounded Butman and his convoy.
I suppose he had no friend or defender among the number. Most
of them wanted to frighten him; some of them to injure him,
though not to kill him. There were a few angry negroes, I
suppose, excited and maddened by their not unnatural or unjustifiable
resentment against the fellow who had been the ready and notorious
tool of the slave-catchers, who would have killed him if
they could. He was kicked several times by persons who succeeded
in the swaying and surging of the crowd, in getting through
his guard, and once knocked onto his knees by a heavy blow
in the back of the neck which came from a powerful negro,
who had a stone in his hand which increased the force of the
blow. I believe he was hit also by some missiles. He reached
the depot almost lifeless with terror. The train was standing
there, and started just after we arrived. It was impossible
to get him into it. It was then endeavored to put him into
a buggy which was standing outside of the depot, but the owner,
a young business man of Worcester, seized the bridle of his
horse and stoutly refused to allow the horse to start. Butman
was then thrust into a hack, into which one or two other persons
also got, and the hack was driven rapidly through the crowd
with no damage but the breaking of the windows. Mr. Higginson
thought Butman was left at Westboro'; but my recollection,
which is very distinct, and with which I think he now agrees,
is that Lovell Baker, the City Marshal, followed with his
own horse and buggy, and took Butman from the hack after he
got a short distance out of Worcester. Butman implored him
not to leave him at the way-station, fearing that the crowd
would come down in an accommodation train, which went also
about that time, and waylay him there. So Baker drove him
the whole distance to Boston, forty miles. When Butman got
to the city, he was afraid that the news of the Worcester
riot might have reached Boston, and have excited the people
there; and, by his earnest solicitation, Baker took Butman
by unfrequented streets across the city to a place where he
thought he could be concealed until the excitement abated.
Baker, who died a short time ago in Worcester, aged over ninety,
told me the whole story immediately on his return.
The proceeding undoubtedly was not to be justified; but it
was a satisfaction to know that no slave-hunter came to Worcester
after that occurrence. Five or six people--including, if
I am not mistaken, Mr. Higginson himself, certainly including
Joseph A. Howland, a well-known Abolitionist and non-resistant,
and also including Martin Stowell, who was afterward indicted
for killing Batchelder, a Marshal who took part in the rendition
of Burns--were complained of before the police court, and
bound over to await the action of the grand jury. The grand
jury returned no indictment, except against one colored man.
Mr. District Attorney Aldrich was quite disgusted at this,
and promptly _nol prossed_ that indictment. And so ended
the famous Butman riot.
The Whigs were in a minority in Massachusetts after the year
1848. But the constitution required a majority of all the
votes to elect a Governor; and, in the case of no choice, the
Governor, the Lieutenant Governor, the Executive Council,
and the Senators from counties where there had been no election
were chosen on joint ballot by the members elected to the
two Houses. The Whigs were able to carry the Legislature,
and in that way chose their Governor and Lieutenant Governor,
elected Councillors, and filled vacancies in the Senate. But
the Free Soil and Democratic leaders were not content to leave
the power in the hands of the Whig minority. In 1849 a few
Representatives and Senators were chosen to the Legislature
by a union of the Free Soil and Democratic Parties. In the
autumn of 1850 this arrangement was extended through the State.
The Whigs were in a minority in the Legislature, and the coalition
proceeded to elect a Democratic Governor and Lieutenant Governor
and an Executive Council. In consideration of giving these
offices to the Democrats, it was agreed that Mr. Sumner should
be chosen Senator. A few of the Democrats, who desired to
keep their party relations with the South, refused to agree
to this arrangement. Mr. Winthrop was the Whig candidate.
The Senate, on its part, promptly elected Mr. Sumner, but
there was a long contest in the House of Representatives,
extending through three months. Twenty-six ballots were cast,
of which no candidate had a majority until the last. Mr.
Sumner several times came within two or three votes of an
election. At last it was apparent that some member had cast
more than one vote; and an order was offered by Sidney Bartlett,
an eminent Whig member from Boston, requiring the members
to bring in their votes in sealed envelopes. This resulted
in the choice of Sumner.
Another contribution to Mr. Sumner's election ought not to
be forgotten. The town of Fall River was represented by Whigs;
but it was a community where there was a strong anti-slavery
feeling. A town-meeting was called by the friends of Mr.
Sumner, and a motion made to instruct their representatives,
according to the right of the people declared in the constitution
of Massachusetts, to vote for Sumner. An earnest and eloquent
speech in favor of the resolution was made by Robert T. Davis,
a young Quaker, since a distinguished member of Congress.
The resolution was carried, which Mr. Borden, one of the
Representatives from Fall River, obeyed. The result was Sumner's
election by a single vote.
As stated in the preceding chapter, I was a member in 1852
of the Massachusetts House of Representatives, then consisting
of about four hundred and twenty members. It was, I think,
as admirable a body of men for the training of a public speaker
as I ever knew. The members were honest. The large majority
was made up of sensible, strong-headed country farmers, rather
slow in making up their minds, but making them up always on
considerations of what was best for the Commonwealth. There
was a time, when the opinion of the House seemed to be precipitating
or crystallizing, not too early in the debate and not too
late, when a vigorous and effective speech had great influence.
I was made Chairman of the Committee of Probate and Chancery,
the second law committee in the House; and I suppose it is
not presumptuous to say that I did as much of the hard work
of the body and had as much influence in leading its action
and shaping its legislation as anybody.
In the year 1856 I was, with Eli Thayer, sent from Worcester
as a delegate to a Convention held at Buffalo to concert measures
to help the settlers from the Free States in their contest
with slave owners led by Atchison and Stringfellow, of Missouri,
for the possession of Kansas. Atchison had been President
pro tempore of the Senate of the United States. The slave
holders had organized a formidable body of men to drive out
the Free State settlers from the Territories, which had just
been opened after the repeal of the Missouri Compromise. We
met at Buffalo some gentlemen, among whom was Zachariah Chandler,
of Michigan, then in the vigor of early manhood. We made
arrangements for getting large contributions of money and
arms with which the Northern emigrants were equipped, and
which undoubtedly enabled them to maintain successfully their
resistance and establish their free State.
CHAPTER XI
THE KNOW NOTHING PARTY AND ITS OVERTHROW
The political history of Massachusetts from 1846 to 1865
is, in general, the history of the share of the Commonwealth
in the great National contest with Slavery; the beginning
and growth of the Free Soil or Republican Party and the putting
down of the Rebellion. The rise and dominion for three years,
and the final overthrow of the Know Nothing Party is an episode
which should not be wholly omitted, although it is an episode
which might be omitted without injury to the sense.
There have been, ever since the Irish immigration which begun
somewhere about 1840 down to to-day, a great many worthy people
who have been afraid of the Pope and the influence of Catholicism
in this country, and have been exceedingly jealous of the
influence of foreigners, especially of those of the Roman
Catholic Church. Self-seeking political adventurers and demagogues
have not been slow to take advantage of this feeling for their
own purposes. They have, for some reason, always preferred
to make their political movement in secret societies. The
Catholic vote had generally been cast for the Democrats, and
was supposed to be largely influenced by the Catholic clergy.
It was thought that this influence had a good deal to do with
defeating Mr. Clay in 1844. A movement of this kind swept
over the country after the Presidential election of 1852.
It had nearly spent its force by 1856. It made little headway
at the South, except in two or three States. There was a
struggle with it in Virginia, where it was defeated by the
superhuman energy of Henry A. Wise. The party organized for
the purpose of excluding men of foreign birth from any share
in the Government, sometimes called the American Party, was
generally called the Know-Nothing Party, a name which came
from the answer each member was expected to make to any inquiry
from an outsider, "I know nothing about it."
This party swept Massachusetts in the autumn of 1854. It
elected in that year Governor, Lieutenant Governor, all the
officers of the State Government, every member of both Houses
of the Legislature, except two from the town of Northampton,
and every member of Congress. Its candidate for Governor
was Henry J. Gardner, a very skilful political organizer.
He had a book in which he had the names of men in every town
in the Commonwealth whom he attached to his personal fortunes
by promises, or flattery, or because in some cases of their
sincere belief in the doctrine. He understood better than
any other man I ever knew the value of getting the united
support of men who were without special influence, even the
man who were odious or ridiculous among their own neighbors,
but who united might be a very formidable force. He organized
with great skill and success the knave-power and the donkey-
power of the Commonwealth.
But a good many Anti-Slavery men who thought the party feeling
of the Whigs and Democrats was a great obstacle to their cause,
joined the movement simply in order that they might get rid
of the old parties, and prepare the State as with a subsoil
plow for a new one. They had no belief in the proscriptive
doctrines, and were willing that men of foreign birth and
Catholics should have their just rights, and expected to destroy
the Know Nothing Party in its turn when it had destroyed Whiggery
and Democracy. Of these was Henry Wilson, who owed his first
election to the Senate to the Know Nothing Legislature; and
Eli Thayer, who had been the organizer of the Emigrant Aid
Society, and the movement for the deliverance of Kansas and
Nebraska. Both these gentlemen abandoned the Know Nothing
Party the year after its formation. Mr. Thayer was elected
as a Republican to Congress in 1856, and reelected in 1858.
But he separated from his political associates and espoused
the squatter sovereignty doctrines of Stephen A. Douglas.
He, I have no doubt, was a sincere Anti-Slavery man. But
he liked to do things in peculiar and original ways of his
own, and was impatient of slow and old-fashioned methods.
So he got estranged from his Republican brethren, was defeated
as a candidate for Congress in 1860, took no part in public
activities during the time of the war, became somewhat soured,
and landed in the Democratic Party. I always had a great
liking for him, and deem him entitled to great public gratitude
for his services in the rescue of Kansas from what was known
as Border Ruffianism.
Neither Charles Sumner nor Charles Allen ever tolerated the
Know Nothing movement or made any terms with it. Its proscriptiveness
and its secrecy were alike repugnant to their honest, brave
and liberty-loving souls. Sumner was advised, as the question
of his reelection was coming on in January, 1857, to keep
silent about Know Nothingism. He was told that the Slavery
question was enough for one man to deal with, and that if
he would only hold his peace all the parties would unite in
his reelection. He answered the advice with his brave challenge.
He went about the Commonwealth, denouncing the intolerant
and proscriptive doctrine of the Know Nothings. He told them:
"You have no real principle on which you can stand. You are
nothing but a party of Gardnerites."
Charles Allen addressed a little company, of which I was
one, in the City Hall at Worcester in the autumn of 1854,
when Know Nothingism was in the height of its strength. He
said:
"Perhaps I am speaking too boldly, but I learned to speak
boldly a long time ago. I will speak my sentiments in the
face of any organization; or, if it does not show its face,
though its secret mines are beneath my feet, and unseen hands
ready to apply the match, I will declare those sentiments
that a freeman is bound to utter."
The people of Massachusetts elected Gardner Governor in 1854,
1855 and 1856. But in the autumn of 1857 he was beaten under
the leadership of General Banks. The party lingered until
1856 when there was an attempt to keep it alive in the Presidential
campaign of that year when Millard Fillmore was its candidate
for the Presidency.
But it was destroyed in the consuming fire kindled by the
Civil War, and has not since been heard of by its old name.
The proscriptive and intolerant opposition to Catholicism,
especially against men of foreign birth, has shown its head
occasionally. It appeared in its most formidable shape in
a secret organization known as the A. P. A., of which I shall
speak later. It is utterly uncongenial to the spirit of true
Americanism, and will never have any considerable permanent
strength.
CHAPTER XII
ELECTION TO CONGRESS
In the year 1868 one chapter of my life ended and a very
different one began. In the beginning of that year I had
no doubt that what remained of my life would be devoted to
my profession, and to discharging as well as I could the
duties of good citizenship in the community to which I was
so strongly attached. But it was ordered otherwise. My
life in Worcester came to an end, and I shall if I live to
complete my present term in the Senate have spent thirty-
eight years in the National service.
This came from no ambition of mine. In May, 1868, I sailed
for Europe, broken down in health by hard work. During my
absence, some of the leading Republicans of the District issued
an appeal recommending me as a candidate for Congress. There
were five or six other candidates. They were all of them
men of great popularity, with hosts of friends and supporters.
Among them was John D. Baldwin, then holding the seat, a veteran
in the Anti-Slavery Service, editor of the Worcester _Spy,_
one of the most influential papers in New England. It had
been the almost unvarying custom of the people of Massachusetts
to reelect an old member who had served as faithfully as Mr.
Baldwin. Another candidate was Francis W. Bird, one of the
founders of the Anti-Slavery Party, and a man who had been
a powerful supporter by speech and pen and wise counsel and
large influence of the Republican Party since its foundation.
He was supported by the powerful influence of Charles Sumner,
then at the height of his popularity, and by Adin Thayer,
the ablest political organizer in Massachusetts. Another
candidate was Amasa Walker, the eminent writer on political
economy, whose name has since been rendered still more illustrious
by the brilliant public service of his son. Another was Mr.
Mayhew, a successful manufacturer, of large wealth, and a
deserved favorite in Milford, the second town in the District,
where he resided. Another still was Lucius W. Pond, a generous
and warm-hearted man, although he afterward fell from his
high place. He was a Methodist. That denomination had always
been strong and influential in the Worcester District, and
its members have always stood stanchly by the men of their
own household when candidates for political office. Mr. Pond
was also a member of the Masonic Order and of other secret
associations. I ought however to say, in justice to the Masonic
Fraternity, that I have never been able to see that there
was any truth whatever in the charge that the members of that
Order deemed it their duty to support each other in politics,
or when on juries. Many a client has told me with great alarm
that his opponent was a Mason, and that one or more leading
Masons were on the jury that were to try the case. I always
refused to challenge a juryman on that account, and I never
found that the man's being a Mason had the least effect in
preventing him from rendering a just verdict. I have many
intimate friends both political and personal in that Order,
although I never belonged to it and never sympathized with
or approved of secret societies in a Republic.
My strength was due to the fact that I had in general the
good will of my competitors. So if any one failed to get
a majority it was easy to transfer his strength to me. Perhaps
also there was a feeling, growing out of the fact that I had
had great experience in public speaking at the Bar and in
political meetings, that I might be able to take a prominent
part in the debates in the House, a faculty which all my competitors
lacked, except Mr. Bird. But chiefly I had the advantage
of the good will of my associates in my own profession, a
body whose influence is always justly very powerful and who
were all, with scarcely an exception, my close and strong
friends. I had, beside all that, a great many clients in
every town in the District who had been in the habit of trusting
me with their most intimate and secret concerns, and with
whom I had formed the attachment which in those days used
to exist between counsel and client.
I had said before I went to Europe that if nominated I would
accept the office. I thought it doubtful whether my strength
would permit me to continue my professional work without interruption.
I had no thought of remaining in Congress, if I were elected,
more than one term, or perhaps two. Indeed I did not contemplate
the probability of a nomination as a very serious one.
But almost before I got out of the sight of land the burden
lifted and my health came back. When I got home I was utterly
sick of the whole business. But my friends had been committed
to my support. They claimed that I could not withdraw honorably
after the assurance I had given them before I went away. So,
rather to my disgust, I was nominated on the first formal
ballot. I had not expected the result. I had gone to take
a ride while the Convention was in session. So they were
obliged to wait for me. I was found with some difficulty
and went in and made a brief speech which I ended by saying:
"If I shall fail to satisfy you, the trust you have so freely
conferred you can as freely recall. If I shall fail to satisfy
myself, I shall at least have the comfort of reflecting that
it is by your free choice that this nomination has been conferred.
It has not been begged for, or bargained for, or intrigued
for, or crawled into. If elected I shall at the close of
the term lay down the honors of the office with the same cheerfulness
with which I now accept the nomination."
I expected to go back to my home and my profession at the
end of one term. My law practice was rapidly increasing.
Professional charges in those days were exceedingly moderate
as compared with the scale of prices now, and I had inherited
the habit of charging low fees from my partner and friend,
Emory Washburn. If I had the same class of clients now that
I had then, I could at the present scale of charges for professional
service easily be earning more than fifty thousand dollars
a year, and I could earn it without going to my office in
the evening, and also take a good vacation every summer.
My life from that time has been devoted altogether to the
public service. I have, what is commonly expected of men
who represent Massachusetts in the Senate, delivered a good
many literary and historical addresses, and have taken part
in political campaigns, and have occasionally eked out a scanty
salary by some professional work in the vacations. But I
think I may fairly claim that I have done my share of the
work of the Senate and of the House to the best of my ability.
Senator Edmunds when he left the Senate was kind enough to
compliment me by saying that the whole work of the Senate
was done by six men, of whom I was one. I do not suppose
Mr. Edmunds meant the number six to be taken literally. But
he is a gentleman certainly never given to flattery or empty
compliment. So I think I might call him as a witness that,
in his time, so far as hard work is concerned I did my best.
I am not quite so confident that he would testify to the wisdom
of my course on all occasions.
I did not, as I have said, expect when I entered to remain
in public life more than one term. But I became interested
in the bill known as the National Education Bill, and accepted
another election with a view to doing what I could to carry
that through. At the end of the next term I announced my
purpose to withdraw. But there was a very earnest letter
to me signed by the principal men in the district, including
several gentlemen, any one of whom might very naturally have
expected to be my successor, saying it was not for the interest
of the people of the district to make a change.
Two years after I made a formal and peremptory refusal to
be a candidate again, which was encountered by a like appeal.
It was the year of what was called the Tidal Wave which swept
the Republicans from power in the House of Representatives.
It was very doubtful whether they could carry the Worcester
District. The Democrats elected a majority of the Massachusetts
delegation in the National House of Representatives. I was
elected by a few hundred only, although I was elected by several
thousand on former occasions. I could not very well refuse
to accept the nomination at a time of great political peril.
So I continued once more. At the end of that time I wrote
another peremptory refusal, and my successor was nominated
and elected.
I have been often charged with a blind and zealous attachment
to party. The charge is sometimes made by persons who consider
that I desire to do right, but think that my understanding
and intellectual faculties are guided and blinded by that
emotion. Others are not so charitable. One very self-satisfied
critic, Mr. William Lloyd Garrison, sometimes in prose and
sometimes,
A screechin' out prosaic verse
An' like to bust,
says that I differ from my honorable colleague, Mr. Lodge,
in that Mr. Lodge has no conscience, while I have a conscience
but never obey it. If any man be disposed to accept these
estimates, it is not likely that I can convince him to the
contrary by my own certificate. But I will say two things:
1. I have never in my life cast a vote or done an act in
legislation that I did not at the time believe to be right, and
that I am not now willing to avow and to defend and debate
with any champion, of sufficient importance, who desires to
attack it at any time and in any presence.
2. Whether I am right or wrong in my opinion as to the duty
of acting with and adherence to party, it is the result not
of emotion or attachment or excitement, but of as cool, calculating,
sober and deliberate reflection as I am able to give to any
question of conduct or duty. Many of the things I have done
in this world which have been approved by other men, or have
tended to give me any place in the respect of my countrymen,
have been done in opposition, at the time, to the party to
which I belonged. But I have made that opposition without
leaving the party. In every single instance, unless the question
of the Philippine Islands shall prove an exception, and that
is not a settled question yet, the party has come round, in
the end, to my way of thinking. I have been able by adhering
to the Republican Party to accomplish, in my humble judgment,
ten-fold the good that has been accomplished by men who have
ten times more ability and capacity for such service, who
have left the party.
When Governor Boutwell, the President of the Anti-Imperialist
League, wrote me that he thought I could do more good for
that cause by staying in the Republican Party than by leaving
it, and when he declared in a public interview in Boston that
of course Mr. Hoar would remain in the Republican Party, he
was right. If he had taken the same course himself, he would
have been a powerful help in saving his country from what
has happened. If the gentlemen who acted with him in that
way had remained Republicans, and the gentlemen who agreed
with him, who have remained Republicans, who abandoned public
life, had kept in it, they would have saved the country from
what they and I deemed a grievous mistake and calamity. There
was but one vote lacking for the defeat of the Spanish Treaty.
There was but one vote lacking for the passage of the Teller
resolution. If Mr. Speaker Reed, the most powerful Republican
in the country, next to President McKinley, had stayed in
the House; if Mr. Harrison, as I earnestly desired, had come
back to the Senate; if Governor Boutwell and Mr. Adams had
uttered their counsel as Republicans, the Republicans would
have done with the Philippine Islands what we did with Cuba
and Japan. I could cite a hundred illustrations, were they
needed, to prove what I say to be true. There was undoubtedly
great corruption and mal-administration in the country in
the time of President Grant. Selfish men and ambitious men
got the ear of that simple and confiding President. They
studied Grant, some of them, as the shoemaker measures the
foot of his customer. Mr. Sumner and Mr. Schurz and Mr.
Trumbull and Mr. Greeley and the New York _Tribune,_ and
the Springfield _Republican,_ and the Chicago _Tribune,_ and
the St. Louis _Republican,_ and scores of other men and other
papers left the party. They were, so long as they maintained
that attitude, absolutely without political influence from
that moment. When the great reforms which were attempted
were accomplished, they were not there. The reforms were
accomplished. But their names were wanting from the honorable
roll of the men who accomplished them. President Grant himself
and President Hayes and Judge Hoar and Mr. Cox and General
Garfield, and others, if there are other names honorable enough
to be mentioned along with these, stayed in the Republican
Party. They purified the administration. They accomplished
civil service reform. They helped to achieve the independence
of American manufacture. They kept the faith. They paid
the debt. They resumed specie payment. They maintained a
sound currency, amid great temptation and against great odds.
To this result our friends who were independent of party contributed
no jot or tittle.
Our system differs from that which prevails in England in
that it is hard to change the political power from one party
to another and hard to restore it when it is once lost. We
elect our President for four years. We elect our Senators
for six years. Therefore in determining whether it is your
duty to forsake a party which is wrong on some single question
you are to decide, first, whether that question is important
enough to warrant sacrificing every other measure in which
you agree with your party, and having every measure espoused
by the other which you think bad enacted if it get control.
Second, you have not only in such cases to sacrifice every
other thing you think desirable to prevent the one thing you
think undesirable, but you must decide whether, in regard
to that particular matter, the party you are asked to substitute
in power for your own will accomplish what you desire if it
get power. For example, there are some worthy Republicans
who are free-traders. But they agree with the Republican
Party in everything else. If you ask them to put a Democratic
President and Congress into power in order to get free trade
they must consider whether if they get power they will give
them free trade. Otherwise they sacrifice everything else
for that chance and get no benefit in that respect. The Republican
free-trader who voted for Mr. Cleveland in 1892 did not get
free trade. He got only what Mr. Cleveland denounced as
a measure of infamy. In the third place you have under our
Constitutional system to determine whether the chance to accomplish
what you want in regard to one measure warrants placing the
political power in hands you deem unfit, so that the party,
in your judgment right on one thing, but wrong in every other,
will have the fate of the country in its hands for a four
years' term, and deal with every new and unexpected question
as it shall think fit. I was bitterly reproached for supporting
Mr. McKinley, and refusing to support Mr. Bryan, when I differed
from Mr. McKinley on the great predominant question how we
should deal with the people of the Philippine Islands. But
the men who criticised me most bitterly were some of them
the men who applauded my purpose to do so when it was first
declared. One of them, the President of the Anti-Imperialist
League, wrote me a letter saying that I could be more useful
to that cause by remaining a Republican than in any other
way, and declared in a public interview that of course Mr.
Hoar would remain a Republican. The Secretary of the same
organization, after I had made a speech in which I had declared
my purpose to continue to support Mr. McKinley, in spite
of his grievous error in this respect, wrote me a letter
crowded with the most fulsome adulation, and declared that
my position was as lofty as that of Chatham or Burke. I
could cite many other instances to the same effect. But
what other men think, however respectable they may be, is
of course of no importance. Every man must settle for himself
the question of his individual duty. I could not find that
the chance that Mr. Bryan, who had urged the adoption of the
Spanish Treaty and had committed himself to the opinion that
it was right to do everything we promised to do in that Treaty,
would act wisely or righteously if he were trusted with power,
or that he could get his party to support him if he were disposed
to do so, warranted my running the risk of the mischief he
was pledged to accomplish; still less running the risk of
giving the government of this country to his supporters for
the next four years. There are many good men in the Democratic
Party. But the strength of that organization in 1900, as
it is to-day, was in Tammany Hall, in the old Southern leaders
committed to a policy of violence and fraud in dealing with ten
million of our American citizens at home, aided by a few
impracticable dreamers who were even less fitted than the
Democratic leaders to be trusted with political power.
The Republican Party, whatever its faults, since it came
into power in 1860 has been composed in general of what is
best in our national life. States like Massachusetts and
Vermont, the men of the rural districts in New York, the
survivors and children of the men who put down the Rebellion
and abolished slavery, saved the Union, and paid the debt
and kept the faith, and achieved the manufacturing independence
of the country, and passed the homestead laws, are on that
side, and in general they give and will hereafter give direction
to its counsels. On the other hand their antagonist has been,
is, and for an indefinite time to come will be, controlled
by the foreign population and the criminal classes of our
great cities, by Tammany Hall, and by the leaders of the solid
South.
I entered the House of Representatives of the United States
at the spring session which began March 4, 1869, at the beginning
of Grant's Administration. It then contained a very interesting
and important group of men, the most brilliant and conspicuous
of whom was, undoubtedly, Mr. James G. Blaine. The public,
friends and foes, judged of him by a few striking and picturesque
qualities. There has probably never been a man in our history
upon whom so few people looked with indifference. He was
born to be loved or hated. Nobody occupied a middle ground
as to him. In addition to the striking qualities which caught
the public eye, he was a man of profound knowledge of our
political history, of a sure literary taste, and of great
capacity as an orator. He studied and worked out for himself
very abstruse questions, on which he formed his own opinions,
usually with great sagacity. How far he was affected in his
position by the desire for public favor I will not undertake
to say. I think the constitution of his mind was such that
matters were apt to strike him in much the same way as they
were apt to strike the majority of the people of the North,
especially of the Northwest, where he was always exceedingly
popular. He maintained very friendly personal relations with
some of the more intelligent Southerners, especially with
Lamar. One incident in his relations with Butler was intensely
amusing. They were never on very friendly terms, though each
of them found it wise not to break with the other. When Blaine
was a candidate for Speaker, to which office he was chosen
in the spring session of 1869, his principal competitor was
Henry L. Dawes. Dawes's chances were considered excellent
until Butler, who had great influence with the Southern Republican
members of the House, declared himself for Blaine. Butler
was exceedingly anxious to be Chairman of the Committee of
Appropriations. This would have been an offence in the nostrils
of a large portion of the Republican Party. Mr. Dawes, learning
Butler's proposed defection, was beforehand with him by rising
in the caucus and himself nominating Mr. Blaine. This secured
Blaine's unanimous nomination. Butler, however, still pressed
eagerly his own claim for the Chairmanship of the Appropriations.
Blaine was altogether too shrewd to yield to that. The committees
were not appointed until the following December. Butler suspected
somehow that there was doubt about his getting the coveted
prize. He accordingly went to the door of the Speaker's room,
which was then opposite the door of the House of Representatives,
by the side of the Speaker's chair. He found Blaine's messenger
keeping the door, who told him that Mr. Blaine was engaged
and could not see anybody. "Very well," said General Butler,
"I will wait." Accordingly, he took a chair and seated himself
at the door, so that he might intercept Blaine as he came
out. Blaine, learning that Butler was there, went out the
window, round by the portico, and entered the House by another
entrance. Somebody came along and, seeing Butler seated in
the corridor, said: "What are you about here, General?" "Waiting
for Blaine," was the reply. "Blaine is in the chair in the
House," was the answer. "It isn't possible," said Butler.
"Yes, he is just announcing the committees." Butler rushed
into the House in time to hear Mr. Dawes's name read by the
Clerk as the Chairman of Appropriations. He was very angry,
and bided his time. They had an altercation over the bill
to protect the rights of the freedmen in the South, the story
of which I tell in speaking of Grant. But as the end of the
Congress approached, Butler endeavored to get up an alliance
between the Democrats and what were called the "Revenue Reformers."
There was a large number of Northwestern Republicans who were
disposed to break away from the party because of its policy
of high protection. This included representatives of a good
many States that afterward were the most loyal supporters
of the tariff policy. Butler showed me one day a call he
had prepared, saying: "How do you think something like this
would answer?" It was a call for a caucus of all persons
who desired a reform in the tariff to meet to nominate a
candidate for Speaker. I was never in Butler's confidence,
and I suppose he showed me the paper with the expectation
that I should tell Blaine. Blaine circumvented the movement
by giving assurances to the friends of revenue reform that
he would make up a Committee of Ways and Means with a majority
of persons of their way of thinking. This ended Butler's
movement. Blaine kept his word. Mr. Dawes, a high protectionist,
was made Chairman, and Mr. Kelly, also a high protectionist,
was second on the Committee of Ways and Means; but a majority
were revenue reformers. The committee reported a bill which
would have been exceedingly injurious to the protected industries
of New England. That bill was pressed and reported to the
House from the Committee of the Whole; but the member of the
committee who had it in charge, by some strange oversight,
forgot to demand the previous question. Mr. Dawes, quick
as lightning, took from his desk a bill which he had previously
prepared, but which had been voted down by his committee,
added to it a clause putting tea and coffee on the free list,
and, I believe containing also one or two other items which
were specially popular in some parts of the country, and moved
that as an amendment to the committee's bill, and himself
demanded the previous question. The cry of a free breakfast-
table was then specially popular. There were enough members
who did not dare to vote against putting tea and coffee on
the free list to turn the scale. Dawes's amendment was adopted,
the bill passed, the New England industries saved, and the
tariff reformers beaten. The persons who saw only the quiet
and modest bearing with which Mr. Dawes conducted himself
in the Senate do not know with how much vigor, quickness of
wit, readiness and skill in debate, he conducted himself amid
the stormy sessions of the House of Representatives during
Grant's first Administration. There has never been, within
my experience, a greater power than his on the floor of the
House. He had mighty antagonists. There were not only very
able Democrats, like Randall and Kerr and Holman, but there
were mighty leaders among the Republicans. There was little
party discipline. Each of them seemed bent on having his
own way and taking care of himself, and ready to trip up or
overthrow any of his rivals without mercy or remorse. Among
them were Butler and Farnsworth and Garfield and Logan and
Schenck and Kelly and Banks and Bingham and Sargent and Blaine
and Poland.
I was not in the habit of going often to the White House
when Grant was President. When I did, he received me always
with great kindness. He always seemed to be very fond of
my brother; and I suppose that led him to receive me in a
more intimate and cordial fashion than he would otherwise
have done. I was first introduced to him in the cloak-room
of the House of Representatives the Saturday evening before
his inauguration. He came, I think, to see Mr. Boutwell,
then a member of the House, afterward his Secretary of the
Treasury. He came to Worcester in the summer of that year,
and I went with him in a special car to Groton in the afternoon.
He was not very talkative, though interested in all he saw.
He expressed special delight in the appearance of the boys
of the Worcester Military School, who turned out to escort
him. One of his sons, a well-grown lad, was upon the train.
The general had not seen him for some time, and he sat with
one arm around him, as one might with a little girl.
It used to be thought that Grant was a man without much literary
capacity. Since the publication of his "Memoirs," this notion
has been discarded. I can testify to his great readiness
as a writer. I saw him write two messages to Congress, both
of a good deal of importance, without pause or correction,
and as rapidly as his pen could fly over the paper. The first
was the message he sent in on the adoption of the Fifteenth
Amendment to the Constitution. I was much interested in a
bill in aid of national education. I called on the President
when the last State needed had ratified the Fifteenth Amendment,
and suggested to him that it might be well to send a special
message to Congress congratulating them on the result, and
urging the policy of promoting education for the new citizens.
I told him of General Washington's interest in a national
university, and what he had said about the importance of
education in his writings. I said I supposed he had them
in his library. He said he believed he had, but he wished
I would get the books and bring them to him. I accordingly
got the books, carried them up to the White House, showed
him the passages, and Grant sat down and wrote in a few minutes,
and quite rapidly, the message that was sent to Congress the
next day. The other occasion was when he sent in the message
at the time of the controversy between the House and the Senate
in regard to the policy to be pursued in dealing with the
outrages in the South. The Senate had passed a bill giving
a discretion to the President to take some firm measures to
suppress these disorders, and to protect the colored people
and the Republicans of the South, and if in his judgment he
thought it necessary, to suspend the writ of _habeas corpus._
This measure, which had a considerable majority in the Senate,
was voted down in the House under the influence of Speaker
Blaine, Mr. Dawes, General Farnsworth, and other prominent
Republicans. During the controversy Mr. Blaine left the
chair and engaged in the debate, being provoked by some thrust
of Butler's. There was a lively passage at arms, in which
Blaine said he was obliged to leave the chair, as his predecessor
Mr. Colfax had been compelled to do, "to chastise the insolence
of the gentleman from Massachusetts." Butler replied by some
charge against Blaine, to which Blaine, as he was walking
back to take the gavel again, shouted out: "It's a calumny."
My sympathies in the matter, so far as the measure of legislation
was concerned, were with Butler, though I had, as is well
known, little sympathy with him in general.
The House undertook to adjourn the session, but the Senate
refused to do so without action on the bill for the protection
of human rights at the South. While things were in this condition,
I was summoned one morning into the President's room at the
Capitol, where I found President Grant, his Cabinet, several
of the leading Senators, including Mr. Conkling, I think
Mr. Edmunds, Mr. Howe of Wisconsin, and I believe General
Wilson, Judge Shellabarger of Ohio, and one or two other members
of the House. All the persons who were there were favorable
to the proposed legislation, I believe. President Grant said
that he had been asked to send in a message urging Congress
to pass a law giving him larger powers for the suppression
of violence at the South; but he had sent for us to explain
the reason why he was unwilling to do it. He thought that
the country would look with great disapprobation upon a request
to enlarge the powers of the President, and especially to
suspend the writ of _habeas corpus_ in time of peace, and that he
felt especially unwilling to subject himself to that criticism
as he had not come to that office from civil life, but had been
a soldier, and it might be supposed he favored military methods
of government. Several of the gentlemen present expressed
rather guardedly their dissent from this view, but Grant seemed
to remain firm. I kept silent, as became a person young in
public life, until Mr. Howe and Judge Shellabarger whispered
together, and then came to me and said: "Mr. Hoar, you may
perhaps, be able to have some influence on him. Won't you
say something?" I then made a little speech to the President,
in which I said that there was no question of the existence
of these disorders and crimes; that they would be likely to
be increased, and not diminished, especially as the elections
in the Southern States approached. He could not allow them
to continue. He would be compelled, in my judgment, to interpose
and go to the verge of his authority, or to leave to their
fate those people whom we were bound by every consideration
of honor to protect. I asked him if he did not think it
would be better, instead of exercising a doubtful authority
of his own, acquired without legislative sanction, to obtain
the necessary authority from Congress in advance. I thought
it much less likely to be imputed to him that he was acting
in the manner of a soldier and not of a statesman if he were
careful to ask in advance the direction of the law-making
power, and the people understood he was unwilling, even if
he had the authority, to act without the sanction of Congress.
This view produced an instant change of mind. Grant took
a pen, wrote a brief message with great rapidity, read it
aloud to the persons who were assembled, and sent it in that
very day without the change of a word. It is a clear and
excellent statement. The result was that the Republican opposition
to the measure in the House was withdrawn, the two Houses
came to an agreement, and adjourned without day soon afterward.
One of the most important acts of President Grant's Administration
was his veto of the Inflation Bill, which provided for a considerable
increase of the large volume of legal tender paper money,
which at that time was not redeemed by the government. This
veto is regarded by most persons as the turning of the corner
by the American people, and setting the face of the Government
toward specie payment and honest money. It was during the
hard times that followed the crisis of 1873. It is said that
President Grant had made up his mind to sign the bill, and
sat down to write out his reasons, but that he found them
so unsatisfactory that he changed his mind and sent in his
veto message. I had not been disposed to believe this until
I was told, a little while ago, by Secretary Boutwell that
he had the statement that that was the fact from the lips
of Grant himself. If that be true, the President must have
changed his mind twice. When the bill was pending in the
House of Representatives, my wife's father, a very simple-
hearted and excellent merchant of Worcester, who spent seventy
years of life in business on the same spot, visited us in
Washington. I took him up to see Grant. The General was
alone and, contrary to his usual custom, in a very talkative
mood. He seemed to like Mr. Miller, who had a huge respect
for him, and evidently saw that we were not there for any
office-seeking or other personal end. He talked with great
freedom about himself and his visit to Worcester. He expressed
his wonder that the town had grown and prospered so without
any advantage of river or harbor or water power, or the neighborhood
of rich mines or rich wheat-fields. He then asked me how
the bill for an increased issue of green-backs was coming
on in the House. I told him it seemed likely to pass. He
then went on to express very earnestly his objection to the
measure and to the whole policy, and his dislike of irredeemable
paper. He said that it was an immense injury to all classes
of the people, but that it bore heavily upon poor and ignorant
men. He said that speculators and bankers and brokers could
foresee the changes which came about from the fluctuations
of paper money and protect themselves from them, but the workingmen
and poor men had no such advantages--that they were the greatest
sufferers. He added a suggestion I never heard before, that
there was in many parts of the country great loss from the
counterfeiting of paper money--a loss which fell almost wholly
upon poor and ignorant men. I never in my life heard Grant
talk so freely on any occasion. I never in my life, but once,
saw him apparently so deeply moved. I said: "Mr. President,
you know the story of old Judge Grier and the Pennsylvania
jury." "No," said he. "Well," said I, "there was once a
jury in Pennsylvania, when Grier was holding court, who brought
in a very unjust verdict. The judge said: 'Mr. Clerk, record
that verdict and enter under it, "Set aside." I will have
you to know, Gentlemen of the Jury, that it takes thirteen
men in this court to steal a man's farm.' It takes three powers,
Mr. President, under our government to pass a law." Grant
laughed and said: "Well, if you send it up to me, make it
just as bad as you can." There can be no possible question
that he then desired and meant to veto the bill. His desire
that it might be as bad as possible was that it might be more
easy to defend his action.
I had another exceedingly interesting conversation with the
President on my return from New Orleans. In the winter of
1875 I went to New Orleans, as Chairman of a Committee of
the House of Representatives, to investigate and to ascertain
which of the rival State governments had the true title. Louisiana
was in a terrible condition. Sheridan was in command of the
United States troops there, and it was only their presence
that prevented an armed and bloody revolution. The old rebel
element, as it was, had committed crimes against the freedmen
and the white Republicans which make one of the foulest and
bloodiest chapters in all history. Sheridan had much offended
the white people there by his vigorous enforcement of laws,
and especially by a letter in which he had spoken of them
as banditti. I stopped, during my stay in New Orleans, at
the St. Charles Hotel, where Sheridan also was a guest. When
he came into the crowded breakfast-room every morning, there
were loud hisses and groans from nearly the whole assembled
company. The morning papers teemed with abusive articles.
The guests would take these papers, underscore some specially
savage attack, and tell the waiter to take it to General Sheridan
as he sat at table at his breakfast. The General would glance
at it with an unruffled face, and bow and smile toward the
sender of the article. The whole thing made little impression
on him. No violence toward him personally was ventured upon.
The night before I started on my return to Washington, General
Sheridan called to take leave. I was much amused by the simplicity
and _naivete_ with which he discussed the situation. He
said, among other things: "What you want to do, Mr. Hoar,
when you get back to Washington, is to suspend the what-
do-you-call-it." He meant, of course, the _habeas corpus._
He knew there was some very uncomfortable thing which stood
in his way of promptly suppressing the crimes in Louisiana,
where he said more men had been murdered for their political
opinions than were slain in the Mexican War. When I got back
to Washington, the President sent for me and Mr. Frye of
Maine, a member of the committee, to come to the President's
room in the Capitol to report to him the result of our observations.
During the conversation, Grant expressed what he had often
expressed on other occasions, his great admiration for Sheridan.
He said: "I believe General Sheridan has no superior as a
general, either living or dead, and perhaps not an equal.
People think he is only capable of leading an army in battle,
or to do a particular thing he is told to do. But I mean,
all the qualities of a commander which enable him to direct
over as large a territory as any two nations can cover in
war. He has judgment, prudence, foresight, and power to deal
with the dispositions needed in a great war. I entertained
this opinion of him before he became generally known in the
late war." I was so impressed with this generous tribute of
one great soldier to another that, as soon as the interview
was over, I wrote it down and asked Mr. Frye to join with
me in certifying to its correctness. It is now before me,
and has the following certificate: "The foregoing is a correct
statement of what General Grant said to me and Mr. Frye in
a conversation this morning in the President's room. February
15, 1875. George F. Hoar." "I heard the above conversation,
and certify to the correctness of the above statement of it.
William P. Frye."
I heard General Grant express a like opinion of Sheridan
under circumstances perhaps even more impressive. I was a
guest at a brilliant dinner-party given by Mr. Robeson, Secretary
of the Navy, where Grant, General Sherman, General Sheridan,
Commodore Alden, Admiral Porter, Chief Justice Chase, Attorney-
General E. R. Hoar, Lyman Trumbull, Mr. Blaine, and some
other men of great distinction were present. There were about
twenty guests. Mr. James Russell Lowell was of the company.
I believe no one of that brilliant circle is now living. Commodore
Alden remarked, half in jest, to a gentleman who sat near
him, that there was nothing he disliked more than a subordinate
who always obeyed orders. "What is that you are saying, Commodore?"
said President Grant, across the table. The Commodore repeated
what he had said. "There is a good deal of truth in what
you say," said General Grant. "One of the virtues of General
Sheridan was that he knew when to act without orders. Just
before the surrender of Lee, General Sheridan captured some
despatches from which he learned that Lee had ordered his
supplies to a certain place. I was on the other side of the
river, where he could get no communication from me until the
next morning. General Sheridan pushed on at once without
orders, got to the place fifteen minutes before the rebels,
and captured the supplies. After the surrender was concluded,
the first thing General Lee asked me for was rations for his
men. I issued to them the same provisions which Sheridan
had captured. Now if Sheridan, as most men would have done,
had waited for orders from me, Lee would have got off." I
listened with wonder at the generous modesty which, before
that brilliant company, could remove one of the brightest
laurels from his own brow and place it on the brow of Sheridan.
I had another memorable conversation with Grant, not so pleasant.
It revealed a capacity of intense passion which I do not know
that he ever manifested on any other occasion. He had sent
into the Senate the nomination of William A. Simmons for
the important office of Collector of Boston. This was due
to the influence of General Butler. Mr. Sumner, whose controversy
with the President is well known, was then the senior Senator
from Massachusetts. The nomination had been made, of course,
without consulting him, with whom Grant was not on friendly
terms, and without consulting any of the members of the House
of Representatives except Butler. There was a very earnest
opposition to this nomination. I went up to the White House
to endeavor to induce President Grant to withdraw it, but
he had gone out. I repeated my visit once or twice, but failed
to find the President. The third or fourth time that I went
up, as I was coming away I saw President Grant on the other
side of Pennsylvania Avenue, walking alone on the sidewalk
adjoining Lafayette Square. I suppose it was not in accordance
with etiquette to join the President when he was walking alone
in the street; but I overtook him, and said: "Mr. President,
I have been to the White House several times, and been unable
to find you in. The business of the House is very urgent
just now, and it is difficult for me to get away again. Perhaps,
therefore, you will kindly allow me to say what I have to
say here." The President very courteously assented. I walked
along with him, turned the corner, and walked along the sidewalk
adjoining the east side of Lafayette Square, until we came
to the corner opposite the house then occupied by Sumner,
which is now part of the Arlington Hotel. I told the President
that I thought the Republicans of Massachusetts would be much
dissatisfied with the nomination of Simmons, and hoped it
might be withdrawn. The President replied that he thought
it would be an injustice to the young man to do so, and that
the opposition to him seemed to be chiefly because he was
a friend of General Butler. I combated the argument as well
as I could. The whole conversation was exceedingly quiet
and friendly on both sides until we turned the corner by Mr.
Sumner's house, when the President, with great emphasis, and
shaking his closed fist toward Sumner's house, said: "I shall
not withdraw the nomination. That man who lives up there
has abused me in a way which I never suffered from any other
man living." I did not, of course, press the President further.
But I told him I regretted very much the misunderstanding
between him and Mr. Sumner, and took my leave. It was evident
that in some way the President connected this nomination with
the controversy between himself and Sumner.
I have always lamented, in common with all the friends and
lovers of both these great men, that they should have so misunderstood
each other; yet it was not unnatural. They were both honest,
fearless, patriotic, and brave. Yet never were two honest,
fearless, patriotic, and brave men more unlike each other.
The training, the mental characteristics, the field of service,
the capacities, the virtues, the foibles of each tended to
make him underestimate and misunderstand the other. The man
of war, and the man of peace; the man whose duty it was to
win battles and conduct campaigns, and the man who trusted
to the prevalence of ideas in a remote future; the man who
wielded executive power, and the man who in a fierce contest
with executive power had sought to extend the privileges,
power, and authority of the Senate; the man who adhered tenaciously
to his friends though good and evil report, and the man whose
friendships were such that evil report of personal dishonor
never dared assail them; the man of little taste for letters,
and the man of vast and varied learning; the man of blunt,
plain ways, and the man of courtly manners; the man of few
words, and the man who ever deemed himself sitting in a lofty
pulpit with a mighty sounding board, with a whole widespread
people for a congregation--how could they understand each
other? Grant cared little for speech-making. It sometimes
seemed as if Sumner thought the Rebellion itself was put down
by speeches in the Senate, and that the war was an unfortunate
and most annoying, though trifling disturbance, as if a fire-
engine had passed by. Sumner did injustice to Grant; Grant
did injustice to Sumner. The judgment of each was warped
and clouded, until each looked with a blood-shotten eye at
the conduct of the other. But I believe they know and honor
each other now.
CHAPTER XIII
SUMNER AND WILSON
When I took my seat on the 4th of March, 1869, the Commonwealth
of Massachusetts had a position of power in both Houses of
Congress never held by any other State before or since, unless
we except that held for a short time in early days by Virginia.
Charles Sumner was beyond all question the foremost figure
on the National stage, save Grant alone. He had seen the
triumph of the doctrines for which he had contended all his
life. He had more than any other man contributed to fetter
the hands of Andrew Johnson and drive him from power. Henry
Wilson was the most skilful political organizer in the country.
Sumner was at the head of the Committee on Foreign Relations,
and Wilson of that of Military Affairs. In the House Henry
L. Dawes was at the head of the Committee on Appropriations,
Benjamin F. Butler of the Committee on Reconstruction, William
B. Washburn of the Committee on Claims, Nathaniel P. Banks
of the Committee on Foreign Affairs. These Committees with
the Committee on the Judiciary of which General Butler was
a member, and the Committee on Ways and Means, controlled
the policy of the House on all the great questions then interesting
the country. Samuel Hooper had the third place on the Committee
on Coinage, Weights and Measures. But he was its dominant
member and in a later Congress introduced the Bill for Reforming
the Currency, a wise and salutary measure. It is known,
however, among ignorant people in some parts of the country
as "The Crime of '73."
Sumner and Wilson are so well known to the American people
that it would be superfluous for me to attempt to describe
either elaborately. I have spoken of each at some length
elsewhere.
Charles Sumner held a place in the public life of the country
which no other man ever shared with him. He held a place
in the public life of the world shared by very few indeed.
He was an idealist. He subjected every measure to the inexorable
test of the moral law. Yet, at the same time, he was a powerful
political leader, and in a time when the fate of the Republic
was decided accomplished vast practical results. Where duty
seemed to him to utter its high commands he could see no obstacle
in hostile majorities, and no restraint in the limitations
of a written Constitution. It is right, therefore Constitutional,
was the logical formula with which he dealt with every question
of State. We should be deaf and blind to all the lessons
of history, if we were to declare it to be safe that men
trusted with Executive or even with Legislative power should
act on that principle. Unfortunately, humanity is so constituted
that the benevolent despot is likely to work more mischief
even than a malevolent despot. His example of absolute disregard
of constitutional restraints will be followed by men of very
different motives. Yet the influence of one such man pressing
and urging his companions forward in a Legislative body like
the Senate of the United States, keeping ever before the people
the highest ideals, inspired by the love of liberty, and ever
speaking and working in the fear of God, is inestimable.
Charles Sumner lacked that quality which enables the practical
statesman to adjust the mechanism of complicated statutes.
He had no genius for detail. It would not have been safe
to trust him with Appropriation Bills, or Bills for raising
revenue. But he was competent to deal with questions of the
greatest moment to the State. He knew what are its governing
forces. He retained his hold on those forces. He directed
them. He caused sound principles of action to take effect
in the Government of the State in great emergencies. He converted
the people to his opinion. He inspired the people with lofty
desires. He accomplished wise public ends by wise means.
He maintained his hold on power in an important time. He
took a prominent part in great debates and was the acknowledged
leader of one side of the question. He believed that the
conscience of the people was a better guide than individual
ambitions. He always did the thing he could best do. He
did the thing that most needed to be done, the thing most
effective at the time, the thing that no other man did or
could do. He left to others to do what hundreds of others
could do well enough. He contributed largely to the Government
of his country, in the most trying period of our history,
its motive and its direction. That is a pretty practical
contribution to the voyage which furnishes to the steamship
its engine and its compass. His figure will abide in history
like that of St. Michael in art, an emblem of celestial purity,
of celestial zeal, of celestial courage. It will go down
to immortality with its foot upon the dragon of Slavery, and
with the sword of the spirit in its hand, but with a tender
light in its eye, and a human love in its smile. Guido and
Raphael conceived their "inviolable saint,"
Invulnerable, impenetrably armed:
Such high advantages his innocence
Gave him above his foe; not to have sinned,
Not to have disobeyed. In fight he stood
Unwearied, unobnoxious to be pained
By wounds.
The Michael of the painters, as a critic of genius akin to
their own has pointed out, rests upon his prostrate foe light
as a morning cloud, no muscle strained, with unhacked sword
and unruffled wings, his bright tunic and shining armor without
a rent or stain. Not so with our human champion. He had
to bear the bitterness and agony of a long and doubtful struggle,
with common weapons and against terrible odds. He came out
of it with soiled garments and with a mortal wound, but without
a regret and without a memory of hate.
It was fortunate for Sumner and fortunate for the Commonwealth
and the country that he had Henry Wilson for his colleague.
Wilson supplied almost everything that Sumner lacked. I cannot
undertake to tell the story of his useful life in the space
at my command here. If I were to try I should do great injustice
to him and to myself.
He was a very impressive and interesting character, of many
virtues, of many faults. His faults he would have been the
first to acknowledge himself. Indeed, I do not know of any
fault he had that he would not have acknowledged and lamented
in a talk with his near friend, or that he would have sought
to hide from the people.
The motives which controlled his life from the time when
he snatched such moments as he could from this day's work
on a shoemaker's bench and studied far into the night to
fit himself for citizenship, down to the time when he died
in the Vice-President's chamber--the second officer in the
Government--and if his life and health had been spared, he
very likely would have been called to the highest place in
the Government--were public and patriotic, not personal.
He was not without ambitions for himself. But they were
always subordinate in him to the love of liberty and the
love of country. He espoused the unpopular side when he
started in life, and he stuck to it through all its unpopularity.
He was a skilful, adroit, practised and constant political
manager. He knew the value of party organization, and did
not disdain the arts and diplomacies of a partisan. He carried
them sometimes farther, in my judgment, than a scrupulous
sense of honor would warrant, or than was consistent with
the noble, frank, lofty behavior which Massachusetts and the
American people expect of their statesmen. The most conspicuous
instance of this was his joining the Know Nothing Party, in
whose intolerance he had no belief.
But it was done as an instrument for destroying the existing
political parties, which were an obstacle to freedom, and
clearing the field for a new one. This object was successfully
accomplished, and in its accomplishment Wilson had a large
share. But it was, in my judgment, doing evil that good may
come. Wilson freely admitted this before he died, and said--
I have no doubt with absolute sincerity--that he would give
ten years of his life if he could blot out that one transaction.
He was a very valuable legislator. He was the author of many
important measures in the war, during which he was chairman
of the Committee on Military Affairs of the Senate, and showed
much ability in the way of practical and constructive statesmanship.
I do not believe any man in the Senate in his time, not even
Sumner, had more influence over his colleagues than he.
There was not a drop of bigotry, intolerance, or personal
hatred in him. As you would expect from a man who raised
himself from the humblest to the loftiest place in the republic,
he was a believer in pure manhood, without respect of persons
or conditions.
He was a powerful stump orator. He never made speeches that
were quoted as models of eloquence or wisdom. But he knew
what the farmer and the mechanic and the workman at his bench
were thinking of, and addressed himself always to their best
and highest thought. He was a great vote-making speaker.
When Mechanics Hall, in Worcester, or the City Hall was filled
to hear Henry Wilson in a close campaign, many men who entered
the hall undecided or against him, went away to take earnest
part on his side.
He had a good many angry political strifes. But he never
bore malice or seemed to keep angry over night. General Butler
once wrote him a letter pouring out on his head the invective
of which he was so conspicuous a master. Wilson brought the
letter into the office of a dear friend of mine in Boston
when I happened to be there, handed it to us to read, and
observed: "That is a cussed mean letter." I do not think
he ever spoke of it or scarcely thought of it again.
But his chief gift and faculty is one which I can hardly
think of words to describe fitly. The few of his old friends
who are left will understand what I mean. But I can hardly
make those who did not know him, or live in his time, comprehend
it. That was his rare and unequalled gift of gathering and
uttering the sentiment of the people. When new and doubtful
matters of pith and moment were to be dealt with, and after
a long apparent hesitation, and backing and filling, and what
people who did not know him thought trembling in the balance,
he would at last make up his mind, determine on his action,
and strike a blow which had in it not only the vigor of his
own arm, but the whole vigor and strength of the public sentiment
which he had gathered and which he represented. He was an
ubiquitous person. He would travel all over the State, spending
the day, perhaps, in visiting forty shops and factories in
the neighborhood of Boston; then take a nine or ten o'clock
train at night and go up to Springfield, get in there at two
or three o'clock in the morning, call up out of bed some active
politician and tell him he had come to sleep with him; spend
the night in talking over the matter about which he was anxious
until six or seven o'clock in the morning (I do not believe
he ever slept much, either with anybody or alone), and then,
perhaps, up to Northampton or Greenfield to see some person
whom he called Tom, Dick, or Harry, but who knew the local
feeling there; and after a week or two spent in that way,
never giving his own opinion, talking as if he were all things
to all men, seeming to hesitate and hesitate and falter and
be frightened, so if you had met him and talked with him you
would have said, if you did not know him well, that there
was no more thought, nor more steadiness of purpose, or backbone
in him than in an easterly cloud; but at length, when the
time came, and he had got ready, the easterly cloud seemed
suddenly to have been charged with an electric fire and a
swift and resistless bolt flashed out, and the righteous
judgment of Massachusetts came from his lips.
With all his faults, Peace be to the ashes of Henry Wilson.
He was a leader and a tribune of the people. We do not seem
to have such leaders now-a-days. I liked Charles Sumner better.
But it was a great thing for Massachusetts, a great thing for
human liberty, and a great thing for Charles Sumner himself
that he had Henry Wilson as a friend and ally, a disciple
and a co-worker.
If Wilson had lived, in my opinion, it is quite likely that
he would have been the Republican candidate for the Presidency
in 1876, and would have been triumphantly elected. There
was a very powerful movement going on all over the country
to bring that about. Wilson's hold upon the affection of
the people everywhere was very strong indeed.
Wilson became Vice-President of the United States, March 4,
1873. He died two years afterward. I was asked to write
the inscription for a tablet placed in the Vice-President's
Room in the Capitol by order of the Senate in 1902. It follows
here.
IN THIS ROOM
HENRY WILSON
VICE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES
DIED NOVEMBER 22 1875.
THE SON OF A FARM LABORER, NEVER AT
SCHOOL MORE THAN TWELVE MONTHS, IN
YOUTH A JOURNEYMAN SHOEMAKER, HE
RAISED HIMSELF TO THE HIGH PLACES OF
FAME, HONOR AND POWER, AND BY UNWEARIED
STUDY MADE HIMSELF AN AUTHORITY IN THE
HISTORY OF HIS COUNTRY AND OF LIBERTY,
AND AN ELOQUENT PUBLIC SPEAKER TO
WHOM SENATE AND PEOPLE EAGERLY
LISTENED. HE DEALT WITH AND CONTROLLED
VAST PUBLIC EXPENDITURE DURING A GREAT
CIVIL WAR, YET LIVED AND DIED POOR, AND
LEFT TO HIS GRATEFUL COUNTRYMEN THE
MEMORY OF AN HONORABLE PUBLIC SERVICE,
AND A GOOD NAME FAR BETTER THAN RICHES.
CHAPTER XIV
PERSONALITIES IN DEBATE
I have been, in general, enabled to avoid angry conflicts
in debate or the exchange of rough personalities. My few
experiences of that kind came from attacks on Massachusetts,
which I could not well avoid resenting. The only two I now
think of happened in my first term. In one case, Mr. S.
S. Cox of New York, who was one of the principal champions
on the Democratic side of the House, a man noted for his wit,
undertook to make an attack on the Massachusetts Puritans,
and to revive the old slander that they had burned witches.
I made some slight correction of what Mr. Cox had said but
he renewed the attack. I was then comparatively unknown in
the House. Mr. Cox treated me with considerable contempt,
and pointing to Mr. Dawes, who had charge of the bill then
under discussion, but who had not given any reply to Cox's
attack, said, with a contemptuous look at me: "Massachusetts
does not send her Hector to the field," to which I answered
that it was not necessary to send Hector to the field when
the attack was led by Thersites. The retort seemed to strike
the House favorably, and was printed in the papers throughout
the country, and Cox let me and Massachusetts alone thereafter.
I had a like encounter with Daniel W. Voorhees of Indiana,
who was a more formidable competitor. Mr. Voorhees made the
same charge against the people of Massachusetts of having
burned witches at the stake in the old Puritan time. It was
in a debate under the five-minute rule. After reiterating
the old familiar slander that the State of Massachusetts in
her early history had burned witches at the stake, Mr. Voorhees
added that in 1854 or 1855 the Know Nothings broke up convents,
burned Catholic churches, and would have burned Catholics
and Sisters of Charity themselves at the stake within her
borders, if they had dared to do so.
I declared both of these charges to be utterly false, and
said that no human being was ever burned at the stake in
Massachusetts for the crime of witchcraft, and though at a
time when the whole civilized world believed in witchcraft
on the authority of certain passages in the Old Testament,
the courts of Massachusetts did execute some nineteen or
twenty persons of both sexes for the alleged crime of witchcraft,
it was also true that the people of Massachusetts were the
first among men to see the error and wickedness of this course;
that although late in the following century, many people were
condemned for witchcraft in England and on the Continent,
the love of justice and the intelligence of Massachusetts
first exposed that error and wickedness.
I explained that a convent was burned in Massachusetts, not
in 1854 or 1855 by the Know Nothings, but in 1836, by a mob
excited by a rumor that some terrible cruelty had been inflicted
upon some young women who had been placed in a convent at
Charlestown; that the criminals were arrested, tried and sentenced,
and that their crime left no more stain upon the State than
any criminal act committed within the limits of any civilized
country. In conclusion, I said it did not become the political
friends of the men who had burned our soldiers alive at Fort
Pillow, or who burned orphan asylums in New York, and hung
negroes on lamp posts, to talk of cruelties in a past age.
This retort angered Voorhees beyond endurance, and before
I could finish my sentence, he sprang to his feet and cried
out in great anger: "Every word the gentleman says is false
and he knows it." There was a demand that my words be taken
down and that the words of Mr. Voorhees be taken down. That
was done. The chairman of the committee, Mr. Ingersoll,
brother of the famous Robert G. Ingersoll, declared that
the words of Mr. Voorhees were unparliamentary, and ruled
that my language was "rather pungent but not unparliamentary."
Whereupon the committee arose amid great laughter, and the
transaction ended.
CHAPTER XV
THE NATIONAL HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES IN 1869
The House, when I entered it, contained many very able men.
Some of them remained long enough in public life to fill a
large and prominent place in the history of the country. Others
retired early. I will mention only a few.
I do not think his countrymen have estimated Nathaniel P.
Banks at his true value. When he left office at the ripe
age of seventy-five a public service ended surpassed in variety
and usefulness by that of few citizens of Massachusetts since
the days of John Adams. He bore a great part in a great history.
Men who saw him in his later life, a feeble, kindly old man,
with only the remains of his stately courtesy, had little
conception of the figure of manly strength and dignity which
he presented when he presided over the Constitutional Convention
in 1853, or took the oath of office as Governor in 1858. He
raised himself from a humble place, unaided, under the stimulant
of a native and eager desire for excellence. He was always
regarded by the working people of Massachusetts as the type
of what was best in themselves and as the example and representative
of the great opportunity which the Republic holds out to its
poorest citizens and their children. He was a natural gentleman,
always kindly and true. From this trait and not because of
a want of fidelity to his own convictions he found as warm
friends among his political opponents as among his political
associates.
Gen. Banks was Chairman of the Committee on Foreign Relations
in 1869. He was then beginning to lose somewhat his oratorical
power and the splendid qualities which made him so important
a force in the history of Massachusetts and of the country.
But still on fit occasions he showed all his old vigor and
brilliancy. When the delegation gave a dinner to William
B. Washburn on his election as Governor Banks presided. He
kept up a running stream of eloquence and wit as he introduced
the different speakers and punctuated their remarks with interjections
of his own, which I have never known equalled, though I have
attended many like occasions. Banks was a man of humble origin.
He used to be known as the Waltham Bobbin Boy. He worked
in his boyhood and youth in a factory in Waltham. He had
very early a passion for reading. When Felton was inaugurated
President of Harvard, Banks was Governor. As is the custom,
he represented the Commonwealth and inducted the new President
into office. There were famous speakers at the Dinner,--
Daniel Webster, old Josiah Quincy, Edward Everett, Dr. Walker,
Winthrop, and Felton himself. But the Governor's speech was
the best of the whole. He described the time of his poverty
in his youth when he used to work in a mill five days in a
week, and on Saturday walk ten miles to Boston to spend the
day in the Athenaeum Library and ten miles back at night.
He told how he used to peer in through the gate as he passed
Harvard College with an infinite longing for the treasures
of learning that were inside. That refined and fastidious
audience was stirred by an unwonted emotion.
The older public men of Massachusetts did not take very kindly
to Banks. He was a man of the people. He was sometimes charged,
though unjustly, with being a demagogue. He sometimes erred
in his judgment. But he was a man of large and comprehensive
vision, of independence, and exerted his vast influence with
the people for high ends. He might justly be called, like
the negro Toussaint, L'Ouverture,--The Opener. His election
as Governor extracted the people from the mire of Know Nothingism.
His election as Speaker of the Massachusetts House of Representatives
was part of the first victory over the Whig Dynasty which
had kept the State, contrary to its best traditions, in alliance
with slavery. His election as Speaker of the United States
House of Representatives was the first National Republican
victory. His taking a little slave girl on a cannon during
the War in his march through the Shenandoah Valley was hailed
throughout the country as an omen that the War would not end
until slavery was abolished. He rendered a special service
to the Commonwealth and to the cause of good learning which
I think never would have been accomplished without his personal
influence. When Agassiz had been in this country but a few
years he seriously contemplated going back to Europe. It
was understood that he would stay if a sufficient fund could
be raised to enable him to prosecute his researches here and
to establish a museum where his collections could be cared
for and made useful to science. There was a meeting in Boston
to see about raising the fund. The Governor was invited to
attend. The gentlemen present spoke rather doubtfully of
the prospect of success. Governor Banks was asked what he
thought the Commonwealth would do. He replied: "The Commonwealth
will give a hundred thousand dollars." The Legislature had
been of late years economical, not to say niggardly, in such
matters. Governor Banks's declaration was received with entire
incredulity. One gentleman present said that he was very
much discouraged by what His Excellency had said. If he
had said some moderate sum there might have been hope that
it would be given, but it was utterly hopeless to expect
that any such extravagant sum as that would be contributed
by the State. The gentleman seemed to be well warranted
in what he said. The three colleges, Harvard, Amherst and
Williams, had united in an application for one hundred thousand
dollars shortly before. It was supported by the eloquence
of Edward Everett and the authority of Mark Hopkins and President
Hitchcock. Harvard was then so poor that they had not money
to spare when they wanted to move the pulpit from the end
to the side of the Chapel. But the application was denied.
Banks relied in his somewhat sonorous fashion: "You need not
trouble yourself, Sir. The Commonwealth will give a hundred
thousand dollars." And she did. This was followed by the
grant, under Banks's influence, for the endowment of the Boston
Institute of Technology, large grants to the colleges and
grants to some of the endowed schools.
General Banks's statue should stand by the State House as
one of the foremost benefactors of the great educational
institutions of the Commonwealth, and as an example of what
a generous ambition can accomplish for the humblest child
in the Republic.
Governor Boutwell, who is still living, became a member of
President Grant's Cabinet in March, 1869, and remained in
the House only a day or two of the spring session which lasted
about ten days. He was succeeded in the following December
by George M. Brooks, who had been my friend from early boyhood.
He would in my judgment have had an eminent political career
if he had remained in public life, but for his great modesty.
He never seemed to value highly anything he accomplished himself.
But his sympathy and praise were always called out by anything
done by a friend. I think Brooks took much more pleasure
in anything well done or well said by one of his colleagues
than in anything of his own. He was a man of an exceedingly
sweet, gracious and affectionate nature, loving as a child,
yet as men of such natures often are, thoroughly manly. He
was incapable of any meanness or conscious wrong-doing. He
had a very pleasant and ready wit. The people of Middlesex
County, especially of Concord, were very fond of him, and
would have kept him in public life as long as he desired.
But his heath was not good in Washington. The climate of
the place and the bad air of the House were unfavorable. He
did not fancy very much the strife and noise of that turbulent
assembly. So he gladly accepted an appointment to the office
of Judge of Probate of Middlesex County which was absolutely
suited to him. He administered that important office to the
entire satisfaction of the people until his death. I think
George Brooks's smile would be enough to console any widow
in an ordinary affliction.
William Barrett Washburn, afterward Governor and Senator,
was Chairman of the Committee on Claims.
He is one of the best recent examples of a character whose
external manifestations change somewhat with changing manners
and fashions, but the substance of whose quality abides and
I believe will abide through many succeeding generations.
He was a New England Puritan. He brought to the service of
the people a purity of heart, a perfect integrity, an austerity
of virtue which not so much rendered him superior to all temptation
as made it impossible to conceive that any of the objects
of personal desire which lead public men astray could ever
to him even be a temptation.
There were few stronger or clearer intellects in the public
service. His mind moved rapidly by a very simple and direct
path to a sound and correct result in the most difficult
and complicated cases. The Chairmanship of the Committee
on Claims was then with two or three exceptions the most
important position in the House. He spoke very seldom and
then to the point, stating very perfectly the judgment of
a clear-headed and sound business man. But his opinion carried
great weight. He was universally respected. Every man felt
safe in following his recommendation in any matter which he
had carefully investigated.
Congress was beset by claims to the amount of hundreds and
hundreds of millions, where fraud seemed sometimes to exhaust
its resources, where, in the conflict of testimony, it was
almost impossible to determine the fact, and where the facts
when determined often presented the most novel and difficult
questions of public law and public policy. Mr. Washburn's
dealing with these cases was the very sublimity of common
sense. He very soon acquired the confidence of the House
so completely that his judgment became its law in matters
within the jurisdiction of his committee. I became acquainted
with him, an acquaintance which soon ripened into cordial
friendship, when I entered the House in the spring of 1869.
I think I may fairly claim that it was the result of what
I said and did that he was agreed upon by the opponents of
General Butler as their candidate for Governor, and was Butler's
successful antagonist.
Beneath his plain courtesy was a firmness which Cato never
surpassed. Upon a question of morality, or freedom or righteousness
there was never a drop of compromise in his blood. He could
not be otherwise than the constant foe of slavery, and the
constant friend of everything which went to emancipate and
elevate the slave. It was his good fortune to record his
vote in favor of all the three great amendments to the constitution,
and to be the supporter, friend and trusted counsellor of
Abraham Lincoln.
After his election to fill Sumner's unexpired term I had a
letter from Adin Thayer in which he said: "Washburn hates
Butler with an Evangelical hatred which you know is more intense
than a Liberal Christian can attain to."
James Buffington was a shrewd and amusing character. He understood
the temper of the House very well and had great influence
in accomplishing anything he undertook. He prided himself
on the fact that he never missed answering to his name at
roll call during his whole term of service. He understood
very well the art of pleasing his constituents. He made it
a rule, he told me, to send at least one document under his
own frank every year to every voter in his District. On one
occasion in a hotly contested election he had four votes more
in a town on Cape Cod than any other candidate. He was curious
and inquired what it meant. The Chairman of the Selectmen
told him that there were four men who lived in an out-of-
the-way place, who never came to town meetings and nobody
seemed to know much about them. They were a father and his
three sons, living together on the same farm. But at that
election they appeared at the town meeting. All four voted
for Buffington and for no other candidate and disappeared
at once. The Selectman asked him why he voted for Buffington.
"If he knew him?" "No!" said the old fellow. "He knows me.
He sends me and each of my sons a document every winter."
Buffington was very anxious about the matter of patronage
and of getting offices for all his constituents. A great
many men applied for his support; frequently there were many
applications for the same office. He did not like to refuse
them. So he made it a rule to give all of them a letter of
recommendation to the Departments. But he had an understanding
with the appointing clerks that if he wrote his name Buffington
with the g he desired that man should be appointed, but if
he wrote it Buffinton without the g he did not wish to be
taken seriously.
Beyond all question the leader of the Massachusetts delegation,
and of the House, was Henry L. Dawes. He had had a successful
career at the bar and in public life before his election to
Congress. In Congress he made his way to the front very rapidly.
No member of the House of Representatives from Massachusetts
and few from any part of the Union had an influence which
could be at all compared with his. He became in succession
Chairman of the two foremost Committees, that of Appropriations
and that of Ways and Means. He was a prominent candidate
for the office of Speaker when Mr. Blaine was elected and
was defeated, as I have said elsewhere, only by the adroit
management of Butler.
Mr. Dawes represented the Berkshire District in the House
for eighteen years when he declined further service there.
He was then elected to the Senate where he remained eighteen
years longer, when he declined further service there. During
the last part of his last term he was troubled with a growing
deafness which I suppose had much to do with his declining
to enter upon the contest for another reelection. He was
regarded by the manufacturers of Massachusetts as their faithful
and powerful representative. He had several contests for
his seat in the Senate when his opponents thought they were
sure of success; but they found themselves left in the minority
when the vote came to be taken. They never fully comprehended
what defeated them. They would get the support of men who
were active in caucuses and nominating conventions and supposed
with excellent reason that they were safe. But there was
in every factory village in Massachusetts some man of influence
and ability and wealth, frequently a large employer of labor,
who had been in the habit of depending on Mr. Dawes for the
security of his most important interests, so far as they could
be affected by legislation. They knew him and they knew that
he knew them, and their power when they chose to exert it
could not be resisted.
Persons who saw Mr. Dawes in his later years only, when he
sat quietly in his seat in the Senate, taking little part save
in a few special subjects, could not realize what a power he
had been when he was the leading and strongest champion in
that great body which contained Blaine and Bingham and Butler
and Schenck and Farnsworth and Allison and Eugene Hale and
Garfield.
When Mr. Dawes left the Senate in 1893, his associates gave
a banquet in his honor, at which I made the following remarks.
They were, I believe, approved by the entire company. I record
them here as my deliberate judgment:
"If there be any admirer of other forms of government who
think unfavorably of our republican fashion of selecting
our rulers, I would invite him to examine the list of men
whom Massachusetts for a hundred years has chosen as her
Senators of the first class. I do not claim for her any
superiority over other Commonwealths in this respect--but
certainly she has given you of her best. She has sent men who
were worthy to be peers of the men who have represented her
sister States, and if that be true, they surely have been
worthy to be peers in any Senate that was ever gathered upon
earth. The line begins with Tristram Dalton, save Washington
the stateliest gentleman of his time, rich in every mental
accomplishment, whose presence graced and ennobled every assembly
that he entered. Next to him comes George Cabot, the wise
statesman and accomplished merchant, beloved friend of Hamilton,
trusted counsellor of Washington, whose name and lineage are
represented at this table to-night, who shared with this successor,
Benjamin Goodhue, the honor of being the first authority in
finance in their generation, save Hamilton alone.
"Then comes John Quincy Adams, who left the Senate, after
years of illustrious public service, in 1808, but to begin
another public service of forty years, still more illustrious.
He served his country in every department of public occupation.
He was Minister in five great Powers in succession. He was
present as Secretary when the treaty of peace was signed in
1783. He negotiated and signed the Treaty of Ghent, the Commercial
Treaty of 1815, the French Treaty of 1822, the Prussian Treaty,
and the treaty which acquired Florida from Spain. He was
Senator, Representative, Foreign Minister, Secretary of State,
and President. He breasted the stormy waves of the House
of Representatives at the age of eighty, and when he died
in the Capitol, he left no purer or loftier fame behind him.
"Next came James Lloyd, the modest gentleman, the eloquent
orator and the accomplished man of business. Then came Gore
and Ashmun and Mellen and Mills, each great among the great
lawyers of a great generation. Next in the procession comes
the majestic presence of Daniel Webster, whose matchless logic
and splendid eloquence gave to the Constitution of the country
an authority in the reason and in the hearts of his countrymen
equal to anything in judicial decision and equal to that of
any victory of arms. With his reply to Hayne, it has been
said that every Union cannon in the late war was shotted.
His power in debate was only equalled by his wisdom in council.
It was said of him by one whose fame as a great public teacher
equals his own: 'His weight was like the falling of a planet,
his discretion the return of its due and perfect curve.'
"Then comes Rufus Choate, next to Webster himself the foremost
forensic orator of modern times, against whose imperial eloquence
no human understanding, either on the Bench or in the jury
box, seemed to be proof. Following them is he who still lives
in his honored age, with his intellectual powers unshattered,
the foremost citizen of his native Commonwealth, the accomplished
and eloquent Winthrop. Next comes Rantoul, who died when
his foot had scarcely crossed the threshold of the Senate
Chamber, whose great hope was equal to the greatest of memories.
Next is the figure of the apostle of liberty, Charles Sumner,
the echo of whose voice still seems to linger in the arches
of the Capitol. To those of us who remember him, he seems,
as Disraeli said of Richard Cobden, 'still sitting, still
debating, still legislating' in the Senate Chamber.
"No two of these men were alike in the quality they brought
to the public service. Their mental portraiture is as different
and as individual as the faces painted by Titian or Van Dyke
or Holbein. But each brought to the service of the State
what she most needed in each generation. The constructive
statesman, the framer of the Constitution and statutes, the
financier, the debater, the lawyer, the man of business, the
diplomatist, the reformer, the orator, are all there, and
all are there at their best.
"It is enough, and not too much, to say of my colleague that,
as he lays down his office, the State that has been proud
of them is proud of him. The State that has been satisfied
with them is satisfied with him. In all this illustrious
line, there is none other who has more faithfully and more
successfully discharged every duty of Senatorial service,
and who has more constantly represented the interests and
character of the dear old Commonwealth, who has maintained
a higher or firmer place in her confidence and respect than
he whom we greet and with whom we part to-night. Mr. Dawes
was elected to the Massachusetts House of Representatives
in 1847. Every year since, with one exception, he has held
some honorable public station from the gift of his native
State. Everywhere, at the Bar, in the State Legislature,
in the Representative Chamber, in the Senate Chamber, he has
been a leader. Some great department of public service has
depended upon him for a successful administration. He has
always been appointed to some special service or duty or difficulty
which he has discharged to the entire satisfaction of his
constituents and his political associates. His work has been
as remarkable for its variety as for its dignity and importance,
or the length of time for which it has continued. He has
proved himself fit for every conspicuous position in our
Republican army except that of trumpeter. When the duty
was done, he has not sought for personal credit or popular
applause. His qualities have not been those for which the
people manifested their regard by shouting or clapping of
hands, or stamping of feet in public meetings; he has had
no following of ambitious politicians whom he has sought to
repay for their political services at the public expense.
"But he has had a place second to that of no other man in
the solid and enduring esteem of the people of the Commonwealth.
He has been content to do a service, and has left the other
men who sought for it the credit of doing it. His official
action has tended to make or unmake great industries. Great
fortunes have depended upon it. He has affected values of
millions upon millions, and yet he retires from office with
unstained hands, without fortune, and without a spot upon
his integrity. He has no children pensioned at the public
charge. He will leave behind him no wealth gained directly
or indirectly from his public opportunities. He will go back
to a humble and simple dwelling not exceeding in costliness
that of many a Massachusetts merchant or farmer. But honor,
good fame, the affection of his fellow citizens, the friendship
of his fellow Senators will enter its portals with him, and
there they will dwell with him until he leaves it for his
last home."
Mr. Dawes was a very powerful and logical reasoner. He was
a very successful advocate when at the Bar and he was always
a strong antagonist in debate and very effective as a campaign
speaker. He stuck closely to his subject. He had a gift
of sarcasm with which he could make an adversary feel exceedingly
uncomfortable, although he rarely indulged in it. He almost
never attempted eloquence, except so far as it is found in
his grave and effective statement of his case. One sentence
of his which I myself heard deserves to be remembered among
the best things in American eloquence. Speaking to thirty
or forty people at a club in Boston of the power and greatness
of the Republic, he said: "If we cannot say of our country,
as Mr. Webster said of England, 'that her morning drum-beat
circles the earth with an unbroken strain of her martial airs,'
we can at least say that before the sun sets upon Alaska he
has risen upon Maine."
In my first Congress the leadership was shared between my
colleague, Mr. Dawes, and Robert C. Schenck of Ohio. General
Schenck was an old Whig. He had served with distinction in
the time of Webster and Clay and Calhoun and Corwin. He had
the gift of vigorous, simple Saxon English. He was a very
powerful debater, a man of wisdom and of industry. He was
Chairman of the Committee on Ways and Means, and carried through
to success, against odds and difficulties, an important tariff
bill. At one time he found the measure, which he had introduced,
overloaded and destroyed by amendments. He abandoned it in
disgust, declaring that it had been "nibbled to death by
pismires." But he afterward introduced the measure in another
form, and came off successful and triumphant in the end.
He was afterward sent abroad by General Grant to succeed Mr.
Motley. He got into trouble there by giving a letter of recommendation
which was unwisely used to promote an enterprise known as
the Emma Mine. He gave the recommendation, I have no doubt,
in entire good faith. The stock of that mine went down. The
investors lost their money, and great complaint was made that
he had used his official position to promote a fraudulent
scheme. He was compelled to withdraw from the Mission. He
was not recalled, but came home on leave of absence, and resigned
here. So he was not obliged to take formal leave. But the
stock of the mine afterward became exceedingly valuable,
and the public regretted the unjust judgment they had formed
about General Schenck. I had and have a great regard for
him. There was not a dishonest hair on the old fellow's head.
His health failed soon after, so he had no opportunity to
render further service, which would undoubtedly have caused
that unpleasant affair to be forgotten.
Judge Luke P. Poland of Vermont was another very interesting
character. He was well known throughout the country. He
had a tall and erect and very dignified figure, and a fine
head covered with a beautiful growth of gray hair. He was
dressed in the old-fashioned style that Mr. Webster used,
with blue coat, brass buttons and a buff-colored vest. His
coat and buttons were well known all over the country. One
day when William Lloyd Garrison was inveighing against some
conduct of the Southern whites, and said: "They say the South
is quiet now. Order reigns in Warsaw. But where is Poland?"
An irreverent newspaper man said: "He is up in Vermont polishing
brass buttons."
The Judge was a very able lawyer, and a man of very great
industry. He and Judge Hoar went over together the revision
of the United States statutes of 1874, completing a labor
which had been neglected by Caleb Cushing. Judge Poland had
a good deal of fun in him, and had a stock of anecdotes which
he liked to tell to any listener. It was said, I do not know
how truly, that he could bear any amount of whiskey without
in the slightest degree affecting his intellect. There was
a story that two well-known Senators laid a plot to get the
Judge tipsy. They invited him to a room at Willards, and
privately instructed the waiter, when they ordered whiskey
to put twice as much of the liquid into Poland's glass as
into the others. The order was repeated several times. The
heads of the two hosts had begun to swim, but Poland was not
moved. At last they saw him take the waiter aside and heard
him tell him in a loud whisper: "The next time, make mine
a little stronger, if you please." They concluded on the whole
that Vermont brain would hold its own with Michigan and Illinois.
One of the most amusing scenes I ever witnessed was a call
of the House in the old days, when there was no quorum. The
doors were shut. The Speaker sent officers for the absentees.
They were brought to the bar of the House one after another.
Judge Poland happened to be one of the absentees. My colleague,
Mr. Dawes, was in the chair. Poland was brought to the bar.
Mr. Dawes addressed him with solemnity: "Mr. Poland, of Vermont,
you have been absent from the session of the House without
its leave. What excuse have you to offer?" The Judge paused
a moment and then replied in a tone of great gravity and emotion:
"I went with my wife to call on my minister, and I stayed
a little too long." The House accepted the excuse, and I
suppose the religious people of the Judge's district would
have maintained him in office for a thousand years by virtue
of that answer, if they had had their way. A man who had
been so long exposed to the wickedness and temptations of Washington,
and had committed only the sin of staying a little too long
when he called on his minister might safely be trusted anywhere.
Judge Peters, of Maine, did not speak very frequently and
did not attract much public attention. But he had a strong
influence with the members of the House. He was on the Judiciary
Committee. He made brief, pithy speeches which generally
convinced the House. He declined to continue in the National
service, where the people of Maine would have been willing
to keep him until his dying day. He afterward became Chief
Justice of Maine, and sustained the high character which the
Bench of that State has had from the beginning.
There is one anecdote of him, which does not come within
the sphere of my recollections, but which I think perhaps
my readers will prefer to anything that does. A few years
ago a young man who kept a grocery store was tried before
Judge Peters for larceny. He was a very respectable young
tradesman. The Salvation Army had engaged quarters next to
his store, where they disturbed him and his customers a good
deal by playing on the drum and other similar religious services.
But that was not all. They used to come out on the sidewalk
and beat a large drum and sing and kneel in prayer just before
his door, much to the disturbance of his customers and the
aggravation of the young grocer. One day he purloined and
hid the large drum. He was detected and indicted for larceny.
The Attorney-General, for the Government, maintained that
everything that went to constitute the crime of larceny existed
there. He had taken secretly another man's property from his
possession, for purposes of his own. Whether he meant to
destroy it or hide it or to convert it to his own use made
no difference in the offence against the owner or against
the law. On the other hand the defendant's counsel argued
that it was a mere matter of mischief; that there was no felonious
intent, and no purpose to deprive the owner permanently of
the property. The Chief Justice charged very strongly for
the Commonwealth. The jury very reluctantly brought in a
verdict of guilty. The poor fellow was sorely distressed.
He was convicted as a thief. His life seemed to be blighted
and ruined past hope. The Chief Justice said: "Mr. Clerk,
you may record the verdict. I may as well sentence him now.
I shall fine him a dollar, without costs. I once stole a
drum myself."
John A. Logan was a member of the House when I entered it,
and I served with him in the Senate also. He was a man of
remarkable power, and remarkable influence, both with the
Senate and with the people. It is, I believe, agreed by all
authorities that we had no abler officer in the Civil War
than he, except those who were educated at West Point. He
was always a great favorite with the veteran soldiers. He
was rough in speech, and cared little for refinements in
manner. He was said to be an uneducated man. But I believe
he was a man of a good many accomplishments; that he spoke
some foreign languages well, and had a pretty good knowledge
of our political history. He was exceedingly imperious and
domineering, impatient of contradiction in any matter which
he had in charge. So he was rather an uncomfortable man to
get along with. He was especially sensitive of any ridicule
or jesting at his expense. He was supposed, I know not how
truly, to be exceedingly impatient and ready for war on any
man who crossed his path. But his behaviour when he was ordered
to supersede General Thomas, just before the battle at Nashville
and Franklin, is a noble instance of magnanimity.
When Sherman started for the sea, Hood, with a large rebel
army, was in his rear. Gen. Thomas was ordered to attack
him. But he delayed and delayed till the authorities at Washington
grew impatient and ordered Logan to supersede Thomas. Everybody
knows the intensity of the passion for military glory. General
Logan could have carried out his orders, taken advantage of
Thomas's dispositions, and won himself one of the most brilliant
victories of the war, which would have had a double lustre
from the seeming lukewarmness of his predecessor; but when
he arrived at the place of operations and learned Thomas's
dispositions and the reason for his delay, he became satisfied
that the great Fabius was right and wise. His generous nature
disdained to profit by the mistake at headquarters and to
get glory for himself at the expense of a brave soldier. So
he postponed the execution of his orders, and left Thomas
in his command. The result was the battle of Nashville and
the annihilation of Hood. Where in military story can there
be found a brighter page than that? That one act of magnanimous
self-denial gave to American history two of its brightest
names,--the name of Thomas and the name of Logan.
Another very able member of the House was Thomas A. Jenks
of Rhode Island. He never seemed to care much for that field
of service, but preferred to enjoy the practice of his profession,
in which he was largely employed, and was earning a large
income. But he is entitled to honorable memory as the originator
and father of the reform of the civil service in this country.
He made a very able speech in its favor in 1867 or 1868, which
was the beginning of a movement which has been successful,
for which I think the public gratitude should be shared between
him and Dorman B. Eaton.
Elihu B. Washburn, of Illinois, was appointed Secretary of
State by General Grant, whose constant friend and supporter
he had been through his whole military career. Washburn was
brave, vigorous and far-sighted, a man of great influence
in his State and in the House. He was prominently spoken
of for the Presidency. But with Grant and Logan as his competitors
from his own State, there was not much chance for him. He
was afterward Minister to France, and gained great distinction
and credit by remaining in Paris throughout the siege, and
giving shelter and support to persons who were in danger from
the fury of the mob. He earned the gratitude alike of the
Germans and the French ecclesiastics.
He was known as the watch dog of the Treasury, when he was
in the House. Few questionable claims against the Government
could escape his vigilance, or prevail over his formidable
opposition. But, one day, a private bill championed by his
brother, Cadwallader, passed the House while Elihu kept entirely
silent. Somebody called out to the Speaker: "The watch dog
don't bark when one of the family goes by."
When I entered the House, William B. Allison, of Iowa, had
already acquired great influence there. He manifested there
the qualities that have since given him so much distinction
in the Senate. He was understood to favor what was called
Revenue Reform, and moderation in the exercise of all doubtful
national powers.
But his chief distinction has been gained by a service of
thirty years in the Senate. He was out of public life two
years, and then was elected to the Senate, where he has been
kept by the State of Iowa, maintaining the confidence of his
State and of his associates in public life. During all that
time he has done what no other man in the country, in my
judgment, could have done so well. He has been a member
of the great Committee on Appropriations for thirty years,
most of the time Chairman, and for twenty-six years a member
of the Committee on Finance. He has controlled, more than
any other man, indeed more than any other ten men, the vast
and constantly increasing public expenditure, amounting now
to more than 1,000 millions annually. It has been an economical,
honest and wise expenditure. He has been compelled in the
discharge of his duties to understand the complications and
mechanism of public administration and public expenditure.
That is a knowledge in which nobody else in the Senate, except
Senator Hale of Maine, and Senator Cockrell of Missouri, can
compare with him. He has by his wise and moderate counsel
drawn the fire from many a wild and dangerous scheme which
menaced the public peace and safety.
He almost never takes part in the debates, unless it becomes
necessary to explain or defend some measure of which he has
charge. It is said that he is very careful not to offend
anybody, and that he is unwilling to take responsibilities
or to commit himself. There is undoubtedly some truth in
that criticism. Indeed if it were otherwise, he would find
it very hard to maintain the personal influence necessary
to success in the duties to which he is immediately devoted.
But he never avoids voting. His name, since he has been Senator,
has been first or second alphabetically on the roll of the
Senate. He is found in the Senate Chamber unless engaged
in his committee-room on work which requires him to be there
during the sessions,--and he always votes when his name is
called.
I have never seen any indication that he is interested in
anything, or has any special knowledge or accomplishment,
except what is necessary to the line of his duty. I do not
know that he has any interest in history or literature or
science or music. What he does in his time of recreation--
if he ever has any time for recreation--I cannot tell. He
never seems to take any active interest in any of the questions
which determine the action of the party or the destiny of
the State, except those that relate to its finances. I use
the word finances in the largest sense, including means for
raising revenue and maintaining a sound currency, as well
as public expenditures. He is like a naval engineer, regulating
the head of steam but seldom showing himself on deck. I think
he has had a good deal of influence in some perilous times
in deciding whether the ship should keep safely on, or should
run upon a rock and go to the bottom.
There is a good story told that after Thaddeus Stevens died,
a friend of Mr. Blaine's was walking with him one day through
the Rotunda of the Capitol toward the House of Representatives.
Mr. Blaine said: "The death of Stevens is an emancipation
for the Republican Party. He kept the party under his heel."
His friend replied: "Whom have you got for leaders left?"
Blaine said: "There are three young men coming forward. There
is a young man who will be heard from yet." He pointed to
Allison, who happened to be just approaching. "James A. Garfield
is another." There was a little pause, and his friend said:
"Well, who is the third?" Blaine gazed straight up into
the dome, and said: "I don't see the third."
I give my estimate of James A. Garfield later in this book.
I think I ought not to leave out of an account of the very
able and remarkable Massachusetts delegation in the Congress
of 1869 the name of George S. Boutwell, although he remained
in the House only a few days after I entered in and is still
living. He had been a very faithful, useful and prominent
member of the House from the time he entered it in March,
1863, at the middle of the War.
It was the desire of his associates in the House that he
should be a Member of General Grant's cabinet. When General
Grant's Cabinet was announced the name of Governor Boutwell
did not appear, and my brother, Judge Hoar, was nominated
for Attorney-General. He had a high opinion of Mr. Boutwell
and had been very earnest, so far as he could properly do
so, in advocating his original nomination to Congress. In
the evening after the Cabinet had been announced Mr. William
B. Washburn, afterward Governor, called upon me at my room.
Mr. Washburn and I were not then intimate, although we afterward
became close friends. He said that he had been requested
by the delegation to tell me that they earnestly hoped to
Mr. Boutwell might have a place in the Cabinet, and that,
although they had great regard for Judge Hoar, they hoped
that some arrangement might still be made which would bring
about the selection of Mr. Boutwell. I told Mr. Washburn
that I was sure that the appointment of Judge Hoar would be
a surprise to him, as it was to me, and that I thought it
quite doubtful whether he would wish to leave his place on
the Bench for a seat in the Cabinet, but that I could not
speak for him or judge for him. I telegraphed at once to
Judge Hoar not to commit himself in any way until he reached
Washington and could see me. I met him at the depot, told
him of the communication of the Massachusetts delegation and
that, especially considering President Johnson's quarrel with
Congress, it seemed quite important that General Grant, who
had no experience whatever in political life, should have
some person among his counsellors who had the full confidence
of the leaders in Congress. The Judge strongly appreciated
that view. When he called upon President Grant his first
conversation consisted in urging upon him very strongly the
selection of Governor Boutwell. He supposed then that it
would be quite unlikely that the President would take two
men from the same State and supposed that selection would
require his own refusal of the offer of the office of Attorney-
General. President Grant said that he would think it over
and not decide the question that day. The next morning he
sent for the Judge and said: "Judge, I think I would like
to have you take the oath of office." He handed the Judge
his commission. The Judge looked at it and saw that it was
not signed. He said: "I think perhaps it would be better
if you were to sign it." Grant laughed and complied with
the suggestion. Judge Hoar's first official duty was to give
an opinion upon the question whether Mr. Stewart, who had
been nominated for Secretary of the Treasury, could under
the law undertake the office. Mr. Stewart proposed to make
some conveyances of his business in trust, by which he should
part with his legal title to it while he held the office of
Secretary of the Treasury and come back to it again after
his term ended. But the Attorney-General advised the President
that that was impracticable, and the result was the withdrawal
of Mr. Stewart's name and the appointment of Mr. Boutwell
a day or two afterward.
I have had some serious difficulties with Mr. Boutwell since
he left the Democratic Party after his term of service as
Governor. They have, I believe, never been differences of
political principle. My differences of opinion with him have
been mainly upon the question what individuals were fit to
be trusted with political office and power, and with the leadership
in political parties, and upon the question whether certain
men and influences were to be tolerated, or whether the public
safety required unsparing warfare upon them. So, while we
have agreed in general as to policies, we have always had
an entirely different set of friends and companions.
Mr. Boutwell has borne an honorable part in our history.
His titles to a place in the grateful memory of his countrymen
are not likely to be overlooked.
One of them deserves special mention. I am but repeating
what I said many years ago. As a leading member of the House
of Representatives, and as Secretary of the Treasury under
President Grant's Administration, he had, of course, a large
influence upon our financial history. He saw very early the
importance of devoting every resource of the country to the
reduction of the National debt. It was not with him, as I
understand it, a question whether a little saving could be
made in the way of taxes by postponing the payment until the
rate of interest should be less or the National resources
greater. He saw that it was important that the people should
not get accustomed, as the English people are, to consider
a National debt as something that was to continue always.
He saw that it was important to the character of the people,
as to an individual, that they should be impatient and restless
under the obligation of debt, and should consider it alike
the Nation's first duty and its greatest pride and luxury
to get rid of the burden. This has always been the temper
of the State of Massachusetts, of her towns, and, in general,
of her citizens.
Accordingly he insisted that the debt should be reduced so
rapidly that the people would take pride in having paid it,
and would be relieved from the temptation of listening to
the specious and seductive arguments of persons contriving
dishonest methods of getting rid of it by issuing fiat money,
or any device of direct or indirect repudiation. Many persons
can remember in what dangerous forms this temptation came,
and how many men, who otherwise deserve to be held in high
esteem, yielded to it wholly or partly. Mr. Boutwell's powerful
influence was a very important factor in attaining the result
in which we all now take so much satisfaction, and keeping
the American people in the path of duty and honor.
William A. Wheeler, of New York, entered the House in 1869.
I soon became very well acquainted with him, an acquaintance
which ripened into a very intimate friendship. He was a very
serious, simple-hearted and wise man. There was no man in
his time who had more influence in the House. His ancestors
dwelt in my native town of Concord in the early generations,
and in Lincoln, which had been part of Concord. One of the
family emigrated to Vermont. Wheeler's father went from Vermont
to Malone, New York, where he was born, and where he was left
by his father an orphan in very early youth. The widow and
children were without any property whatever, but got along
somehow. Wheeler got an education, spending two or three
years in college, and became the foremost man in his part
of New York. The people of his district were in character
and way of thinking very much like our best Massachusetts
constituencies. Wheeler had little respect for the devious
and self-seeking politics which are supposed to have been
needed for success in that State. He very much disliked Roscoe
Conkling, and all his ways. Conkling once said to him: "Wheeler,
if you will join us and act with us, there is nothing in the
gift of the State of New York to which you may not reasonably
aspire." To which Wheeler replied: "Mr. Conkling, there
is nothing in the gift of the State of New York which will
compensate me for the forfeiture of my own self respect."
Mr. Wheeler was one of the sub-committee, of whom Mr. Frye
and myself were the other two Republican members, to inquire
into the condition of the legality of the Kellogg State Government
of Louisiana. He suggested what is known as the Wheeler
compromise, the acceptance of which by both sides was due
to his influence and capacity for conciliation. The compromise
consisted in an agreement to allow the Republican State officers
to remain in office during the remainder of their terms, without
turbulent or factious opposition, to submit quietly to their
authority on the one hand, and that the two Houses of the
Legislature, on the other hand, should seat the Democratic
contestants whom our sub-committee found entitled to their
seats. This compromise in reality gave effect to the opinion
of the committee, as if they had been a tribunal of arbitration.
Of course they had no authority to enforce their opinion against
the objection of either party.
As soon as the nomination of President Hayes was declared
in the Convention of 1876, I spent a very busy hour in going
about among the delegates whom I knew, especially those from
the Southern States, to urge upon them the name of Mr. Wheeler
as a suitable person for Vice-President. I have no doubt
I secured for him his election. Mr. James Russell Lowell
was a Massachusetts delegate. He was a little unwilling to
vote for a person of whom he had no more knowledge. I said
to him: "Mr. Lowell, Mr. Wheeler is a very sensible man.
He knows the 'Biglow Papers' by heart." Lowell gave no promise
in reply. But I happened to overhear him, as he sat behind
me, saying to James Freeman Clarke, I think it was: "I understand
that Mr. Wheeler is 'a very sensible man.'"
Wheeler was one of the best parliamentarians and one of the
best presiding officers I ever knew. He had no children.
It is pathetic to remember the affection which existed between
him and his wife. Their long living together had brought
about a curious resemblance. She looked like him, talked
like him, thought like him, and if she had been dressed in
his clothes, or he had been in hers, either might have passed
for the other. When she died Wheeler seemed to lose all interest
in this world, shut himself off from all ordinary activities,
and died a year or two after, I suppose with a broken heart.
CHAPTER XVI
POLITICAL CONDITIONS IN 1869
When the Republican Party came into power in 1869 under its
great and simple-hearted President, it found itself confronted
with very serious duties. They were enough to fill ordinary
men in ordinary times with dismay. The President was without
political experience. He had never held civil office. He
had voted but twice in his life. He had voted the Whig ticket
once and the Democratic ticket once. So he could not justly
be charged with being an offensive partisan. He had no experience
in business except in a humble way and in that he had been
unfortunate. Congress and the President could only act under
the restraint of a written Constitution. Everything done
by either must pass the ordeal of the Supreme Court, a majority
of whose members then had no sympathy with a liberal interpretation
of the National powers. The Chief Justice had been a great
Republican leader. But he had quarrelled with Lincoln, and
was an eager aspirant for the Democratic nomination for the
Presidency.
Of the eight years after the inauguration of Lincoln more
than four had been years of actual war and more than five
passed before formal declaration of peace. During all this
time nothing could be considered but the preservation of the
Union. From the end of the War to the accession of President
Grant, Congress and the President had been engaged in a struggle
with each other for power. President Johnson had been impeached
and put on trial before the Senate. So there could be no
important legislation from the summer of 1866 until March,
1869, that did not command the assent of two thirds of both
Houses.
Yet the feeling everywhere among the Republicans in Washington
and throughout the North was of exultant and confident courage.
The strength of the Nation had been tried and not found wanting.
It had overthrown a mighty rebellion. The burden of slavery,
which had hung like a millstone about the neck of the Republic,
had been thrown off. Congress had been triumphant in its
contest with the President. The loyal people of the country
looked to Grant with an almost superstitious hope. They were
prepared to expect almost any miracle from the great genius
who had subdued the rebellion, and conducted without failure
military operations on a scale of which the world up to that
time had had no experience. So the dominant party addressed
itself without fear to the great work before it.
They had to determine on what conditions the States that
had been in rebellion should come back to their place under
the Constitution.
They were to determine on what terms the men who had taken
part in the rebellion should be fully restored to citizenship.
They were to determine the civil and political condition
of more than five million people just set free from slavery.
They were to secure fair elections in fifteen States, where
for many years neither free elections nor free speech had
been tolerated.
If they could, they were to reconcile the North and the South,
estranged by a strife so bitter that even before the War the
life of no Northern man who dared to utter Northern opinions
was safe in half the States of the country, and which had
been intensified by four years of bloody war--bellum plus
quam civile--which had left nearly every household in the
country mourning for its dead.
They were to confront the greatest temptation that ever besets
men of Anglo-Saxon race, a race ever restless and ever hungry
for empire. Hungry eyes were already bent on San Domingo
and Cuba. Good men were rendered uneasy by the tales of Spanish
oppression in Cuba. Men who were looking for the union of
the two oceans by a canal across the Isthmus, or who hoped
that we should extend our dominion in this continent southward,
looked upon the island belonging to the Negro Republics of
Hayti and San Domingo as a desirable addition to our military
and naval strength.
They were to provide for the payment of an enormous debt.
They were to accomplish the resumption of specie payment.
They were to consider and determine anew the question of
currency. What should be the standard of value and a legal
tender for the payment of debts?
They were to get rid of the vast burden of war taxes which
pressed heavily upon all branches of business.
They were to decide whether the duties on imports which
had been laid to meet the heavy cost of war should be kept
in peace and whether to follow the counsel of Hamilton and
his associates in the first Administration of Washington, or
the counsel of the free traders and the English school of
political economics, in determining whether American industry
should be protected.
The people felt that they had suffered a grievous wrong from
England, and that unless there were reparation, which England
had so far steadily refused either to make or consider, the
honor of the country required that we should exact it by war.
The emigrants from foreign lands who had come to our shores
in vast numbers, and were coming in rapidly increasing numbers,
were made uneasy by the doctrine of perpetual allegiance on
which all Europe insisted. They claimed that they were entitled
to protection like native-born American citizens everywhere
on the face of the earth.
The number of civil officers appointed by the Executive had
largely increased. This put an undue and most dangerous
power into the hands of the party controlling the Government.
There was a strong feeling that this should be checked.
Besides; during the controversy with Andrew Johnson the members
of the two Houses of Congress had come to think that they
were entitled to control all appointments of civil officers
in their own States and Districts, and they were ready with
scarce an exception to stand by each other in this demand.
They had passed, over the veto of President Johnson, an act
of disputed and quite doubtful constitutionality, seriously
crippling the Executive power of removal from office, without
which the President's constitutional duty to see that the
laws are faithfully executed cannot be performed. So each
Senator and Representative was followed like a Highland Chieftain
"with his tail on," by a band of retainers devoted to his
political fortunes, dependent upon him for their own, but
supported at the public charge.
This not only threatened the freedom of election, but itself
brought a corrupting influence into the Administration of
the Government.
But there was a still greater danger than all these in the
corruption which then, as always, followed a great war. Unprincipled
and greedy men sought to get contracts and jobs from the Government
by the aid of influential politicians. This aid they paid
for sometimes, though I think rarely, in money, and in contributions
to political campaigns, and in the various kinds of assistance
necessary to maintain in power the men to whom they were so
indebted. This corruption not only affected all branches
of the Civil Service, especially the War and the Navy and
the Treasury, but poisoned legislation itself.
They had to deal with claims amounting to hundreds of millions
of dollars, some wholly fraudulent, some grossly exaggerated
and some entirely just. Some of these belonged to persons
who had contracts with the Government for constructing and
supplying a powerful Navy, or for supplies to the Army. There
were demands still larger in amount from the inhabitants of
the territory which had been the theatre of the War. This
class of claims was wholly new in the history of our own country.
There were few precedents for dealing with them in the experience
of other countries, and the Law of Nations and the law of
war furnished imperfect guides.
Men wounded or disabled in the Military or Naval Service,
and their widows and orphans, were to be provided for by a
liberal pension system.
These were a part only of the questions that must be studied
and understood, under the gravest personal responsibility
by every member of either House of Congress. Under the Administration
of Grant and those that succeeded, of course, there was a
constant struggle on the part of the party in power to keep
in power and on the part of its opponent to get power. So
that it was necessary that a Representative or Senator who
would do his duty, or who had the ordinary ambition, or desired
that the counsel best for the country should prevail, should
master these subjects and take a large part in discussing
and advocating the policy of his party.
During the thirty-two years from the 4th of March, 1869,
to the 4th of March, 1901, the Democratic Party held the
Executive power of the country for eight years. For nearly
four years more Andrew Johnson had a bitter quarrel with
the Republican leaders in both Houses of Congress. For six
years the Democrats controlled the Senate. For sixteen years
they controlled the House of Representatives. There is left
on the Statute Book no trace of any Democratic legislation
during this whole period except the repeal of the laws intended
to secure honest elections. The two Administrations of President
Cleveland are remembered by the business men and the laboring
men of the country only as terrible nightmares. Whatever
has been accomplished in this period, which seems to me the
most brilliant period in legislative history of any country
in the world, has been accomplished by the Republican Party
over Democratic opposition. The failure to secure honest
National elections and the political and civil rights of the
colored people is the failure of the Republican Party and
the success of its Democratic antagonist. With that exception,
to all the problems which confronted the country in 1869 the
Republican Party has given a simple, wise, final and most
successful solution. It has done it not only without help, but
over the constant opposition of its Democratic antagonist.
Every State that went into the Rebellion has been restored
to its place in the Union.
There has been complete and universal amnesty. No man has
been punished for his share in the Rebellion.
In spite of dishonest and subtle counsel, and in spite of
great temptation, we have dealt with the public debt on the
simple and honest principle that the only thing to do with a
debt is to pay it. The National credit is the best in the
world, and the National debt has ceased to be an object either
of anxiety or consideration.
Specie payments have been resumed. Every dollar issued by
the Government, or by national banks under government authority,
passes current like gold. Indeed the ease with which it can
be transported and the certainty of its redemption makes the
paper money of the United States better than gold.
The United States has joined the commercial nations of the
first rank in making gold the world's standard of value.
In doing this we have never departed from the theoretical
principle of bimetallism as announced by Hamilton and Washington
and Webster and all our statesmen without exception down to
1869. The contest was an exceedingly close one. The arguments
in support of the free coinage of silver were specious and
dangerous. Undoubtedly for a time, and more than once, they
converted a majority of the American people. The battle for
honest money would have been lost but for the wisdom of the
Republican statesmen who planted the party not only upon the
doctrine of theoretical bimetallism, but also upon the doctrine
that the question of the standard of value must be settled
by the concurrence of the commercial nations of the world
and that if there were to be one metal as a standard, gold,
the most valuable metal, was the fittest for the purpose.
That was the doctrine of Alexander Hamilton. To have avowed
any other principle would have reinforced our opponents with
the powerful authority of Hamilton and all his disciples
down to the year 1873.
The war taxes have been abolished. The weight of the burden
which has been in that way lifted from the shoulders of the
people may perhaps be understood from the statement of a single
fact. The Worcester District, which I represented, paid in
the direct form of taxes to the National Treasury the enormous
sum of $3,662,727 for the year ending June 30, 1866. For
the year ending June 30, 1871, the taxes so paid amounted
in all to $225,000, and for the year ending June 30, 1872,
they amounted to about $100,000.
The policy of protection to American industry, which, like
the question of honest elections, has been always in contest
between the Republican Party and its Democratic antagonist
has, unless during the two Administrations of President Cleveland,
been successfully maintained. As a consequence of that policy
our manufacturing independence has been achieved. The United
States has become the foremost manufacturing nation in the
world. We are penetrating foreign markets, and have built
up a domestic commerce, the like of which has never been seen
before, and whose extent surpasses the power of human imagination
to conceive and almost of mathematics to calculate.
The temptation to extend our territory by unlawful exercise
of power over Cuba and San Domingo was resisted by the American
people. Cuba has been liberated and has taken her place among
the free nations of the world.
For the great offence committed against us by Great Britain
in the hour of our peril we have exacted apology and reparation.
There were not wanting counsellors enough to urge the American
people that we should nurse this grievance and lie in wait
until the hour for our revenge should come. But the magnanimous
American people preferred peace and reconciliation to revenge.
I ought to except this from the list of achievements due to
the Republican Party alone. In the matter of the British
Treaty, the Democratic leaders contributed their full share
to its successful accomplishment. Mr. Justice Nelson of
the United States Supreme Court was a distinguished member
of the Commission that made the Treaty.
Under General Grant's Administration treaties were negotiated
with nearly all the great powers of the world by which they
renounced the old doctrine of perpetual allegiance, and the
American citizen of foreign birth is clothed with all the
rights and privileges of a native-born citizen wherever on
the face of the earth he may go.
The vast number of the National offices has ceased to be a
menace to the safety of the Republic and has ceased to be a
source of strength to the Administration in power, or to
become the price or reward of political activity. The offices
of trust and profit now exist to serve the people and not to
bribe them.
The conflict between the Senate and the Executive which arose
in the time of Andrew Johnson, when Congress undertook to
hamper and restrict the President's Constitutional power of
removal from office, without which his Constitutional duty
of seeing that the laws are faithfully executed cannot be
performed, has been settled by a return to the ancient principle
established in Washington's first Administration.
The vast claims upon the Treasury growing out of the war have
been dealt with upon wise and simple principles which have
commanded general assent and in the main have resulted in
doing full justice both to the Government and to the claimant.
A disputed title to the Executive power which threatened
to bring on another civil war, and which would not have been
settled without bloodshed in any other country, has been peacefully
and quietly disposed of by the simple mechanism devised for
the occasion and by the enactment of a rule which will protect
the country against a like danger in the future.
With all these matters I have had something to do.
As to some of them my part has been a very humble one. As
to others I have had a part of considerable prominence. As
to all I have had full and intimate knowledge at the time
and have been in the intimate counsel of the men who were
responsible for the result.
Beside all these things there has been during a large part
of my public service, especially the part immediately following
the Civil War, a battle to maintain the purity of elections
and the purity of administration and government expenditure
against corruption. The attempt to get possession of the
forces of the Government for corrupt purposes assumed its
most dangerous form and had its most unscrupulous and dangerous
leader in Massachusetts. It was my fortune to have a good
deal to do with maintaining the ancient honor of the Commonwealth
and defending and vindicating the purity of her political
organization.
Upon all these matters I formed my opinions carefully in the
beginning. I have adhered to those opinions, and acted on
them throughout. I formed them in many cases when they were
shared by a few persons only. But they have made their way,
and prevail. They are the opinions upon which the majority
of the American people have acted, and the reasons which have
controlled that action, seem to me now, in looking backward,
to have been good reasons. I have no regret, and no desire
to blot out anything I have said or done, or to change any
vote I have given.
The duties of a Representative and Senator demand a large
correspondence. I have had always the aid of intelligent and
competent secretaries. Disposing of the day's mail, even
with such aid, is not infrequently a hard day's work, especially
for a man past three score and ten.
Political campaigns in Massachusetts with its small territory
and compact population are easy as compared with most of the
other States. But I have been expected every second year
to make many political speeches, commonly from thirty to forty.
Mr. Blaine, and Mr. Fry, and Mr. Reed, and a great many others
who could be named, were called on for a much larger number.
A man at all prominent in public affairs is also expected
to give utterance to the voice of the people on all great
occasions of joy or sorrow, at high festivals, or at colleges
and schools, on great National anniversaries, when great men
die and great historical events are celebrated. So it was
a life of hard work upon which I entered when I took my seat
in the House of Representatives on the 4th of March, 1869.
The thirty-four years that have followed have been for me
years of incessant labor.
CHAPTER XVII
RECONSTRUCTION
The reconstruction policy of the Republican Party has been
bitterly denounced. Some men who supported it are in the
habit now of calling it a failure. It never commanded in
its fullest extent the cordial support of the whole party.
But it was very simple. So far as it applied to the Southern
whites who had been in rebellion it consisted only of complete
amnesty and full restoration to political rights. No man
was ever punished for taking part in the rebellion after
he laid down his arms. There is no other instance of such
magnanimity in history. The War left behind it little bitterness
in the hearts of the conquerors. All they demanded of the
conquered was submission in good faith to the law of the land
and the will of the people as it might be constitutionally
declared.
Their policy toward the colored people was simply the application
to them of the principles applied to the whites, as set forth
in the Declaration of Independence and in the Constitution
of nearly every State in the Union. There was to be no distinction
in political rights by reason of color or race. The States
were left to regulate such qualifications as residence, character,
intelligence, education and property as they saw fit, only
subject to the condition that they were to apply to all alike.
It was the purpose of the dominant party to leave the control
of the election of national officers, as it had been left
from the beginning, in the hands of the local or State authorities.
The power was claimed, indeed it is clearly given by the Constitution,
as was asserted in the debates in the Convention that framed
it, to conduct those elections under National authority, if
it should be found by experience to be necessary. But in
fact there was at no time any attempt to go further with National
election laws than to provide for punishment of fraudulent
or violent interference with elections or for a sufficient
provision to ascertain that they were properly conducted,
or to protect them against violence or fraud.
Beside this it was the desire of many Republican leaders,
especially of Mr. Sumner and General Grant, that there should
be a provision at the National charge for the education of
all the citizens in the Southern States, black and white,
so far as the States were unable or unwilling to afford it,
such as had been provided for in the States of the North
for all their citizens. It was never contemplated by them
to give the right to vote to a large number of illiterate
citizens, without ample provision for their education at the
public charge. General Grant accompanied his official announcement
to Congress of the adoption of the Fifteenth Amendment with
an earnest recommendation of such a provision. Earnest efforts
were made to accomplish this result by liberal grants from
the National treasury. Many liberal and patriotic Southern
Democrats supported it. But it was defeated by the timidity,
or mistaken notions of economy, of Northern statesmen. In
my opinion this defeat accounts for the failure of the policy
of reconstruction so far as it has failed. I do not believe
that self-government with universal suffrage could be maintained
long in any Northern State, or in any country in the world,
without ample provision for public education.
It has been claimed with great sincerity and not without
plausible reason that a great hardship and wrong was inflicted
by the victorious North on their fellow citizens when the
political power in their States was given over to their former
slaves. This consideration had great force in the minds of
many influential Republicans in the North. Governor Andrew
of Massachusetts, Governor Morton of Indiana, afterward Senator,
men whose influence was probably unsurpassed by any other
two men in the country, save Grant and Sumner alone, were
of that way of thinking. They thought that our true policy
was to let the men who had led their States into the Rebellion
take the responsibility of restoring them to their old relations.
It is not unlikely that the strength of the Republican Party
would have been seriously impaired, perhaps overthrown, by
the division of sentiment on this subject. But the white
Democrats in the South were blind to their own interest. President
Johnson permitted them in several States to take into their
hands again the power of government. They proceeded to pass
laws which if carried out would have had the effect of reducing
the negro once more to a condition of practical slavery. Men
were to be sold for the crime of being out of work. Their
old masters were to have the preference in the purchase. So
the whole Republican Party of the North came to be united
in the belief that there could be no security for the liberty
of the freedman without the ballot.
It is said that this reconstruction policy has been a failure.
Undoubtedly it has not gained all that was hoped for it by
its advocates. But looking back now I do not believe that
any other policy would have done as well as that has done,
although a large part of what was designed by the Republican
leaders of the period of reconstruction never was accomplished.
A complete system of education at the National charge was
an essential element of the reconstruction policy. It was
earnestly advocated by Sumner and by Grant and by Edmunds
and by Evarts. But there were other Republicans of great
influence who resisted it from the beginning. Among these
was Senator Eugene Hale of Maine, a very accomplished Senator,
an able debater and a man of large influence with his colleagues.
His public life has been one of great distinction and usefulness.
While an earnest partisan he has given an example of independence
of action on several notable occasions. But he always seemed
to be possessed by what seems to prevail among the Republicans
of Maine to a great extent, dislike for what is called sentimental
politics. Mr. Hale always seemed to think that the chief
function of Congress was to provide for an honest, economical,
wise and at the same time liberal public expenditure, to keep
in the old paths and leave other matters alone. He dislikes
new doctrines and new policies. He is specially adverse to
anything like legal restraint. He once in my hearing used
a very felicitous phrase, full of wisdom, "Government by good
nature." John Sherman, who had originally been an earnest
advocate of a liberal National expenditure for education,
joined the ranks of its opponents, putting his opposition
largely on the ground that he was unwilling to trust the Southern
states with the expenditure of large sums of money. He feared
that the money would not be fairly expended, as between the
two races, and that it would be made a large corruption fund
for political purposes.
So this most essential part of the reconstruction policy
of Sumner and Grant never took effect. Mr. Sumner deemed
this matter vital to success. He told me about a week before
his death that when the resolution declaring the provision
for public education at the National charge an essential part
of the reconstruction policy, was defeated in the Senate by
a tie vote, he was so overcome by his feelings that he burst
into tears and left the Senate Chamber.
Another part of the Republican plan for reconstruction was
never accomplished. That was the securing of a fair vote
and a fair ascertainment of the result in National elections
by National power. Some partial and imperfect attempts were
made to put in force laws intended to accomplish this result.
They never went farther than enactments designed to maintain
order at the polls, to secure the voter from actual violence,
and to provide for such scrutiny as to make it clear that
the vote was duly counted and properly returned, with a right
of appeal to the Courts of the United States in case of a
contest, the decision of the Court to be subject to the final
authority of the House of Representatives. These laws, although
they had the support of eminent and zealous Democrats and
although they were as much needed and had as much application
to the Northern cities as to the Southern States, were the
object of bitter denunciation from the beginning. Good men
in the North listened with incredulity to the narrative of
well established facts of cruelty and murder and fraud. These
stories were indignantly denied at the time, although they
are not only confessed, but vauntingly and triumphantly affirmed
now. The whole country seems to be made uneasy when the old
practice to which it had been accustomed everywhere of having
offences tried by a jury taken by lot from the people of the
neighborhood, and the result of election ascertained by officers
selected from the bystanders at the polls, is departed from.
Besides, no strictness of laws which provide only for the
proceedings at the elections will secure their freedom if
it be possible to intimidate the voters, especially men like
the colored voters at the South, from attending the elections,
by threats, outrages and actual violence at their homes. Against
these the election laws could not guard. Congress attempted
some laws to secure the Southern Republicans against such
crimes under the authority conferred by the Fourteenth Amendment
to the Constitution. But the Supreme Court held that these
laws were unconstitutional, it not appearing that the States
had by any affirmative action denied protection against such
offences to any class of their citizens by reason of race,
color, or previous condition. It was idle to expect Southern
jurors, or State officers to enforce the law against such
crimes in the condition of sentiment existing there.
Further, the people of the North would not maintain the Republican
Party in power forever on this one issue alone. They were
interested in other things. They could not be expected, year
after year, election after election, and perhaps generation
after generation, to hold together by reason of this one question,
differing on other things. So whenever the Democratic Party
should come into power it was apparent that all the vigor
would be taken out of the election laws. If there be not
power to repeal them the House of Representatives can always
refuse to make the appropriation for enforcing them. So it
became clear to my mind, and to the minds of many other Republicans,
that it was better to leave this matter to the returning and
growing sense of justice of the people of the South than to
have laws on this subject passed in one Administration, only
to be repealed in another. A policy to be effective must
be permanent. I accordingly announced in the Senate after
the defeat of the Elections Bill in 1894 that in my judgment
it would not be wise to renew the attempt to control National
election by National authority until both parties in the country
should agree upon that subject.
We should have had little difficulty in dealing with the
Negro or the Indian, or the Oriental, if the American people
had applied to them, as the Golden Rule requires, the principles
they expect to apply and to have applied to themselves. We
have never understood that in some essential matters human
nature is the same in men of all colors and races. Our Fathers
of the time of the Revolution understood this matter better
than we do. The difficult problems in our national politics
at this hour will nearly all of them be solved if the people
will adhere to rules of conduct imposed as restraints in the
early constitutions. The sublimity of the principle of self-
government does not consist wholly or chiefly in the idea
that self is the person who governs, but quite as much in
the doctrine that self is the person who is governed. How
our race troubles would disappear if the dominant Saxon would
but obey, in his treatment of the weaker races, the authority
of the fundamental laws on which his own institutions rest!
The problem of to-day is not how to convert the heathen from
heathenism, it is how to convert the Christian from heathenism;
not to teach the physician to heal the patient, but to heal
himself. The Indian problem is not chiefly how to teach the
Indian to be less savage in his treatment of the Saxon, but
the Saxon to be less savage in his treatment of the Indian.
The Chinese problem is not how to keep Chinese laborers out
of California, but how to keep Chinese politics out of Congress.
The negro question will be settled when the education of the
white man is complete.
We make every allowance for ourselves. We expect mankind
to make every allowance for us. We expect to be forgiven
for our own wrong-doing. We easily forgive our own white
fellow citizens for the unutterable and terrible cruelties
they have committed on men of other races. But if a people
just coming out of slavery or barbarism commit a hundredth
part of the same offence our righteous indignation knows no
bounds. We have no recognition for their eager desire for
civilization or for liberty, no generous appreciation of their
improvement and promise. And the thousand things in them
that give promise of good in the future are disregarded if
there be any trace left in them of the old barbarism.
Has Reconstruction been a failure? Let us see about that.
We must remember that the relations of the black and white
races to each other, which have existed almost from the foundation
of the world, cannot be changed in a single generation. It
is but thirty-three years since General Grant and the two
Houses of Congress, in political accord with him and with
each other, took possession of the Government. That possession
has been interrupted more than once. It is but forty years
since slavery was abolished. It is less than thirty years
since the last of the three great Amendments to the Constitution
took effect. What has happened in that time? Slavery has
been abolished. That is not a failure. The negro owns his
right to his own labor. He cannot be separated from his wife
or children. He is not prevented by law from learning to
read the Bible. These things are not failures. He can own
land. He has schools and colleges. The young colored man
is received as an equal into nearly every Northern college
and university. He has frequently taken the highest university
honors. I suppose he does not know, from the behavior of
his companions, that they think of the difference between
the color of his skin and theirs. His right to vote is secure
in thirty-four of the forty-five States of the Union. So
far, there has been no failure. When the Civil War broke
out, there were fifteen slave States and sixteen free States.
In Maryland, Delaware, and West Virginia the negro seems to
have his place now like other citizens. The same thing probably
is true in St. Louis, and likely to be true before long throughout
Missouri. There are thirty States out of forty-five, and
there will before long probably be thirty-five out of fifty
in which the old race feeling, growing out of slavery has
never got a hold. The old race-hatred of the negro is getting
into a corner. So far reconstruction has not been a failure.
Two things are not yet accomplished. There are eleven States
in which the negro is not yet secure in his political rights;
and there are as many, and perhaps two or three more, in which
if he be suspected of a crime of the first magnitude, he is
likely to undergo a cruel death, without a trial. That would
have been quite as likely, indeed a good deal more likely
to have happened, if the reconstruction measures had never
been enacted.
It is a bad thing that any man who has the Constitutional
right to vote should fail to have his vote received and counted.
But I think it is a fair question whether the existence of
this condition throughout so large a country, with the prospect
that slowly and gradually as the negro improves he will get
his rights, be not better than the alternative which must
have been his reduction to slavery again, or what is nearly
as bad, a race of peons in this country. That is the question
into the answer of which so much prejudice enters that it
is hardly worth while to reason about it. My opinion is that
as the colored man gets land, becomes chaste, frugal, temperate,
industrious, veracious, that he will gradually acquire respect,
and will attain political equality. Let us not be in a hurry.
Evils, if they be evils, which have existed from the foundation
of the world, are not to be cured in the lifetime of a single
man. The men of the day of reconstruction were controlled
by the irresistible logic of events; by a power higher than
their own. I could see no alternative then, and I see no
alternative now, better than that which was adopted.
CHAPTER XVIII
COMMITTEE SERVICE IN THE HOUSE
The career of a Member of either House of Congress is determined,
except in rare cases, by his assignment to Committees. In
the House that is wholly dependent on the favor of the Speaker.
In the Senate those assignments are made by Committees of
the two parties, chosen for the purpose, who first agree on
the representation to be assigned to each. After the Senator
has been assigned to a Committee he remains there unless he
himself desire a change, and if the Members older in the service
retire he succeeds in the end to the Chairmanship of the Committee.
There has been no instance of a departure from this rule,
except when there is a change in the political control of
the body, and no instance of deposing a Member from a Committee
without his consent, except the single and well-known case
of Mr. Sumner.
I was always on friendly terms with Mr. Blaine during my entire
service of eight years in the House of Representatives. But
I owed nothing to any favor of his in the matter of Committee
assignments. When I entered the service I was put on the
Committee of Education and Labor and on the Committee of Revision
of the Laws, both obscure and unimportant. In my second term
I served a little while on the Committee on Elections. I
was also placed on the Committee of Railroad and Canals. I
was made Chairman of a special Committee to visit Louisiana
and inquire into the legality of what was called the Kellogg
Government and report whether Governor Kellogg or his Democratic
rival should be recognized as the lawful Governor of Louisiana.
I was afterward placed on the Judiciary Committee, a position
of great honor, which I liked very much.
With the exception of the last none of these appointments
had any attraction for me. They were all out of the line
of my previous experience in life and the service they required
of me was disagreeable. I was placed on the Committee on
the Judiciary by Mr. Speaker Kerr, a Democrat. Mr. Blaine
at this time very earnestly pressed Mr. Martin I. Townsend
of New York for the place. I do not conceive that I had any
right to complain of Mr. Blaine in this matter. I never made
any request of him for any appointment within his gift and
he was beset behind and before by the demands of men he was
unable to gratify, to many of whom he conceived himself under
great obligation. It should be stated too that in Mr. Blaine's
time the Members from Massachusetts older in the service than
myself had very important places indeed. So it was hardly
just to increase the number of important Committee appointments
from our State.
But it happened to me by great good fortune that I had an
opportunity, of which I was very glad, to accomplish something
by reason of my place on each Committee on which I served,
which I could not have accomplished without it.
An amusing piece of good fortune happened to me at the beginning
of my service. I was placed, as I said, on the Committee
on the Revision of the Laws. My law practice had been in
the interior of the Commonwealth. So I had little knowledge
of United States jurisprudence. I determined in order to
fit myself for my new duties to make a careful study of the
statutes and law administered in the United States Courts.
I took with me to Washington a complete set of the Reports
of the Supreme Court of the United States and purchased Abbott's
Digest of those decisions, then just published. The first
evening after I got settled I spent in reading the opinions
of the Supreme Court. I took the Digest beginning with the
letter A, reading the abstracts, and then reading the cases
referred to. I got as far as Adm and read the cases relating
to admiralty practice. The next morning the Speaker announced
his Committees and the House adjourned. After the adjournment,
Judge Poland, Chairman of the Committee on the Revision of
the Laws, called the Committee together and laid before them
a letter he had just received from Mr. Justice Miller of
the Supreme Court, asking for a change in the law in regard
to monitions for summoning defendants in Admiralty. The change
had been made necessary by some recent decisions of the Court.
The other members of the Committee looked at each other in
dismay. None of them was familiar with the question, or knew
at all what it was all about. I then stated to them the difficulty,
giving them the names of the cases and the volumes where they
were found. They were all quite astonished to find a man
from the country, of whom probably none of them had ever heard
before, having the law of Admiralty at his tongue's end.
If the question had related to anything in the Digest under
Adr, or anything thereafter, I should have been found probably
more ignorant than they were. But Judge Poland took me into
high favor, and I found his friendship exceedingly agreeable
and valuable. I do not remember that the Committee on the
Revision of the Laws had another meeting while I belonged
to it.
I was also, as I have said, put on the Committee of Education
and Labor. The Bureau of Education had been lately established
and the Commissioner appointed. But the office was exceedingly
unpopular, not only with the old Democrats and the Strict
Constructionists, who insisted on leaving such things to the
States, but with a large class of Republicans. A very zealous
attack was made on the Bureau, led by Mr. Farnsworth of Illinois,
and by Cadwallader C. Washburn, a very able and influential
Republican from Wisconsin. The Committee on Appropriations,
of which my colleague, Mr. Dawes, was Chairman, reported
a provision for abolishing this Bureau. Mr. Dawes, himself,
however, dissented. The Republicans on the Committee of Education
and Labor took up the cudgels for the Bureau. We beat the
Committee of Appropriations. The result of the strife was
that the Bureau was put on a firmer footing with a more liberal
provision, and it has since been, under General Eaton and
Dr. Harris, the accomplished and devoted Commissioners, of
very great and valuable service to the country.
That led me to give special study to the matter of National
education. I introduced a bill for establishing an education
system by National authority in States which failed to do
it themselves. Later, I introduced and carried through the
House a measure for distributing the proceeds of the public
land and sums received from patents and some other special
funds, among all the States in aid of the common schools.
This bill passed the House, but was lost in the Senate mainly
because Senator Morrill of Vermont, a most excellent and influential
statesman, insisted that the money should go to the agricultural
colleges, in which he took great interest, and not to common
schools. Later when I became a member of the Senate I succeeded
in getting a like measure twice through the Senate. But it
failed in the House. So the two Houses never agreed upon
it. But the movement and discussion aroused public attention
throughout the country and were of great value.
While I was on that Committee, I think during my second term,
there was referred to it a bill to rebuild William and Mary
College in Virginia. The principal building of that College
had been destroyed by fire. The Union and Rebel forces had
fought for possession of it. It had been held by the Union
soldiers and a court martial was sitting there when it was
attacked by the other side and the Union men driven out, and
the insurgents held the building for a few hours. They abandoned
it very soon. But before the Union soldiers had got back
in force some stragglers set fire to the building. It was
totally destroyed.
William and Mary was the oldest college in the country, except
Harvard. It numbered among its children many famous statesmen,
including Jefferson, Marshall, Peyton Randolph, and Monroe.
Washington was its Chancellor for twelve years. Its graduates
loved it ardently. I came to the conclusion that it would
tend very much to restore the old affectionate feeling between
the States to rebuild this College without inquiring too strictly
into the merits of the case, as tested by any strict principle
of law. I accordingly reported and advocated a bill for appropriating
sixty or seventy thousand dollars to rebuild the College.
Afterward, when on the Committee of Claims in the Senate,
I advocated extending the same principle to all colleges,
schools and other institutions of education and charity destroyed
by the operations of the War without regard to the question
who was in fault. This policy was, after a good deal of opposition
and resistance, successfully carried out.
But the William and Mary College Bill was reported at the
time when the passions excited by the War were still burning
in the breasts of many Republican statesmen. The measure
was received with derision. I was hardly allowed to go on
with my speech in order, and the ordinary courtesy of a brief
extension of time to finish it was refused amid great clamor.
But I got the Bill through the House the next winter. I had
a powerful ally in Mr. Perce of Mississippi, a Northern soldier,
who had settled in that State after the War. It was not considered
in the Senate. The measure was renewed again later in the
House. But it was bitterly attacked by Mr. Reed of Maine,
afterward Speaker, and defeated. Afterward I succeeded in
getting it through the Senate when the Democrats had possession
of the House, during the Administration of President Harrison,
and it became a law.
I have been assured by many Southern men that that measure,
and the report and speech in which I advocated it, had a very
strong and wide influence in restoring good feeling toward
the Union in the minds of the people of Virginia. Several
of the graduates of William and Mary who afterward became
Republicans have assured me of this with great emphasis. I
was much pleased to get the following letter from Governor
Henry A. Wise, the eminent Virginia statesman, who was, with
two or three exceptions, the most powerful and influential
advocate of secession in the South.
RICHMOND VA
Feby 13th 1872.
HON MR HOAR
OF MASSTS.
_Honored Sir._
I write for no reason but one of pure feeling of respect--
not even for a reply. I am a visitor of Wm and Mary College
--truly of the most venerable of the "Mothers of Thought"
--and have read your excellent appeal to the H. Reps: in
her behalf. It was worthy of that Grand old Comth, Massts,
the elder sister of this once glorious Comth, which hailed
her heartily in the Night of Revolution against Tyrrany.
It was worthy of sweet memories--worthy of Letters--it was
pious and patriotic. Let me just add a sentence more, to
say that if Rebellion and Sectional Hate are to be eradicated--
and I hope they are--_that is the way to do it._ Your speech
& the passage of such bills, catholic in every sense of love
& charity, will do more to heal our Country's wounds than
all the caustic of reconstruction which can be applied.
With unaffected gratitude for your Speech, I pray you will
not pause upon it, but keep the bill to its passage through
both Houses of Congress. I know you would if you could see
the destitution of instruction, and the poverty which cant
pay for it, on the Consecrated peninsula of Jas Town, York
Town, and Williamsburg. Ah! tear down every parapet of War--
cruel War, wanton war call it if you will--but for the Past,
for Piety's sake, for Learning and Moral's sake let Old Wm
& Mary stand a Beacon Light for the guide of the Future.
Very sincerely
Yrs
HENRY A. WISE
Governor Wise had a very conspicuous career in the United
States House of Representatives. He was a very zealous supporter
of the Southern doctrine before the War. He was regarded
as a good deal of a fire eater. He was Governor of Virginia
when John Brown was executed. But in spite of the horror
and indignation that the people of the South felt for John
Brown's raid he did full justice to the heroic quality of
the man. He declared him "the gamest man" he ever saw.
I served in my second term on the Committee on Elections under
the Chairmanship of George W. McCrary. Election cases in
the House up to that time were, as they always were in the
English House of Commons and as they have been too often in
the Senate, determined entirely by party feeling. Whenever
there was a plausible reason for making a contest the dominant
party in the House almost always awarded the seat to the man
of its own side. There is a well-authenticated story of Thaddeus
Stevens, that going into the room of the Committee of Elections,
of which he was a member, he found a hearing going on. He
asked one of his Republican colleagues what was the point
in the case. "There is not much point to it" was the answer.
"They are both damned scoundrels." "Well," said Stevens, "which
is the Republican damned scoundrel? I want to go for the
Republican damned scoundrel."
We had a good many contests. But the Committee determined
to settle all the questions before it as they would if they
were judges in a court of justice. The powerful influence
of Mr. McCrary, the Chairman, aided largely to bring about
that result. The Democratic minority soon discovered that
we were sincere and in earnest. They met us in a like spirit.
I believe the Committee on Elections during that Congress
reported on every case with absolute impartiality, and the
House followed their lead. I formed a very pleasant friendship
on that Committee with Judge William M. Merrick, a Maryland
Democrat, who had made himself very much disliked by the Republican
authorities during the War because of his supposed sympathy
with Rebellion. I do not think he sympathized with the Rebellion.
But he construed the Constitution very strictly and was opposed
to many measures of the Administration. He was nominated
by President Cleveland to be Judge of the Supreme Court of
the District of Columbia. The Judiciary Committee of the
Senate reported against him, putting their objection on the
ground of the conduct imputed to him during the War, and also
of his age. He was then sixty-seven years old. I dissented
from the Committee, of which I was a member, and I exerted
myself with all my might to secure his confirmation, and was
successful. He made a most admirable Judge, and my action
was abundantly vindicated by the result.
I have taken special satisfaction in two reports which I
made for that Committee. I have a right to say that I dealt
with the subjects with the same freedom from bias or prejudice
with which it would have been my duty to give to the question
if I had been sitting on the Bench of the Supreme Court of
the United States.
The case of Cessna _vs._ Myers was perhaps the most interesting
and important of those in which I made a report for the Committee.
John Cessna had served the State of Pennsylvania for several
terms. He was a very popular and eminent Republican member.
According to the returns, Myers, his adversary, had a majority
of 14. Cessna showed beyond question, and his antagonist
admitted, that more than 14 illegal votes were cast for Myers.
On the other hand Myers claimed that there were many illegal
votes cast for Cessna, the evidence of which, so far as appeared,
came to his knowledge first when introduced in the case. When
the evidence was taken Cessna claimed to have evidence that
328 illegal votes were cast for Myers, and that ten legal
votes, cast or offered for him, were rejected. On the other
hand the sitting member claimed that there were 341 votes
illegally thrown for the contestant, and of those Cessna admitted
that 81 had proved to be illegal. So the Committee were obliged
to examine by itself the evidence in regard to the right to
vote of each of several hundred persons.
The case turned finally on some very interesting questions
of the law of domicile. It appeared that a considerable
number of persons who were entitled to vote, if they were
resident of the district where they voted, were workmen employed
in the construction of a railroad. They had come from outside
the district for that purpose alone, and had no purpose of
remaining in the district after the railroad should be completed,
and meant then to get work wherever they could find it, there
or elsewhere. There were also a number of votes cast by students
who had gone to college for the purpose of getting an education,
having no design to remain there after their studies terminated.
Still another class of voters whose right was in dispute,
were the paupers abiding in the public almshouse, and maintained
in common by a considerable number of townships and parishes.
These paupers voted in the district where the almshouse was
situated, although it was not the district of their domicile or
residence when they were removed to it.
The Committee held in the case of the laborer,--in spite of
the very earnest contention to the contrary, that if the laborer
elected in good faith when he came into the district to make
it his legal residence, it became his legal residence, even
if he intended to leave it and get another after his job was
done.
We applied a like doctrine to the case of the students, holding
that a student of a college, being personally present in any
district, had the right if he so desired, to take up his abode
there, and make it by his election his legal residence for
a fixed and limited time.
The question of the paupers we left undecided, as it turned
out that whichever way it were decided, Mr. Cessna had not
overcome his opponent's legal majority.
We also decided an Arkansas case where the title to his seat
of a well known Republican member of Congress was at stake,
in favor of his Democratic contestant.
I was somewhat gratified in the midst of a storm of vituperation
which I had encountered for some political action of mine,
in which I was charged by almost the entire Democratic press
of the country with being a bitter partisan to find two Democratic
gentlemen who had owed their seats to the impartiality of
the Committee on Elections, coming very zealously to the rescue.
I served also from 1873 to 1875 on the Committee on Railroads
and Canals. I have no recollection of doing anything on that
Committee, except aiding in reporting a bill for the regulation
by National authority of railroads engaged in interstate commerce,
in defence of which I made a very elaborate speech. But I
was able to secure the passage of one very interesting and
important measure. James B. Eads, the famous engineer, architect
of the great St. Louis bridge, had a plan for opening to commerce
the mouth of the Mississippi River by a system of jetties.
He had submitted his plan to the Board of Engineers appointed
by the War Department. But he could get no encouragement,
and of the twenty members of that Board, only one, General
Barnard, the President, looked with any approval upon his
scheme. The Board thought that a very long and costly canal
was the only method of securing a water-way which would enable
ocean steamers to reach New Orleans, and the product of the
Mississippi valley to be carried to Europe that way. Captain
Eads appeared before the Committee on Railroads and Canals
and urged his scheme in a speech of great interest and ability.
The Committee adjourned for a week. They were to take up
the question at the next meeting. The vote was unanimous
against Mr. Eads's Bill. When the Committee came out of their
room he was waiting outside the door to learn his fate. I
saw the look of disappointment and despair on his face when
he was told of the vote. I asked him to come with me into
another room, which he did. I told him that I was satisfied
from what I had heard that his plan was a good one, although
I had voted against it with the rest of the Committee. It
seemed to me that it would be presumptuous in me, having no
special knowledge in such matters, to go against the practically
unanimous report of the United States Board of Engineers.
But I said: "Captain Eads, can you not frame a bill, which
will provide that you shall not have any money from the Treasury
for your work until you have accomplished something. If you
deepen the channel of the river a foot that will have done
some good. Suppose you provide that when you have deepened
the river a certain number of feet you shall have so much
of your pay, when it is deepened further so much more, and
so on until the work is done." Captain Eads eagerly caught
at the plan. He said that he was willing to do it, and that
he was perfectly willing that his getting his pay should depend
upon the certificate of the engineers of his having accomplished
the result. He agreed to have a bill drawn on that principle.
He brought it to me afterward. I went over it very carefully,
inserting some additional securities for the Government.
I then took it to the next meeting of the Committee, moved a
reconsideration of the vote of the previous week. That was
carried by a bare majority of one vote. I then moved the
new bill as a substitute for the old one. It was adopted.
The bill passed the House and Senate under which the Eads
jetties were constructed and vessels drawing over twenty-
eight feet of water passed freely up and down to and from
New Orleans. The depth before that time, I think, had been
twelve feet. Captain Eads afterward sent me a beautifully
bound copy of the history of the Eads's jetties with an inscription
certifying to the facts I have stated, in his own handwriting.
I told this story afterward at a meeting of the business men
of Boston. Mr. Corthell who happened to be present made a
speech after I got through. He is himself a very eminent
water engineer. He said that he was associated with Captain
Eads at the time and had often heard Captain Eads tell the
story.
Captain Eads afterward had a scheme which always seemed to
me very feasible for a ship-railway across the Isthmus of
Tehuantepec. His project was to construct a railway with
a sufficient number of tracks, and to raise ships of the largest
size on the principle applied in locks of ordinary canals.
He had a contrivance made of stout beams which would hold
and support a loaded vessel to which it was adjusted. The
beams were to operate something like the keys of a piano,
and the whole operation was something like that by which hatters
measure and record the shape of a man's head. This plan received
the hearty commendation of some very eminent engineers, including
Major Reed of England, the highest authority of such subjects,
the constructor of the dry docks at Malta. The scheme had
a good many supporters in Congress. I think it would have
been adopted but for Captain Eads's premature death.
Rather a singular coincidence took place when I was interesting
myself in this matter which possibly may be not too trivial
to record. One Thanksgiving morning I received by express
a beautiful copy of Wordsworth, which I had bought in Boston
the day before. Just as I was opening it the morning mail
was brought in. I opened the book at random and turned to
Wadsworth's poem, "The Highland Broach." My eye caught the
following lines:
Lo! Ships from seas by nature barred,
Mount along ways by man prepared;
Along far stretching vales, whose streams
Seek other seas, their canvas gleams,
And busy towns grow up on coasts
Thronged yesterday by airy ghosts.
I turned by eye from these verses to the mail in which was
a copy of a New York illustrated journal containing an account
of the Eads ship-railway.
The inscription in Eads's "History of the Jetties," above
referred to, is as follows:
To Hon. George F. Hoar, who, as a member of the House Committee
which matured the Jetty Act, prepared the _first report_ in
its favor, this book is presented; with the assurance that
his unfaltering support of the enterprise through all its
struggles, entitled him to a prominent place among the statesmen
to whom the producers in the Valley of the Mississippi are
most largely indebted.
JAS B. EADS
Washington, D. C.,
February
1881
I had the pleasure of receiving a telegram from New Orleans
shortly after the completion of the jetties saying that a
loaded steamer, drawing between twenty-seven and twenty-eight
feet of water, had safely passed through them to New Orleans.
The Commission appointed by the Government insisted upon having
the jetties constructed at the south pass of the Mississippi
River. This Captain Eads strenuously resisted and urged the
superiority of the southwest pass for the purpose. The House
when it passed the jetty bill adopted Mr. Eads's plan. But
the Senate insisted on taking the opinion of the Commission,
much to his distress. The Senate was firm, and the House
was obliged to yield. I think everybody now agrees that Eads
was right, and that the scheme would have been perfectly successful,
and would have continued to perform all that was desired of
it, if his counsel had been taken. As it is, the jetties
have been of great value and well worth their cost. But it
will probably be necessary some time to construct a similar
work in the southwest pass.
During my first term in the House on the Committee on Education
and Labor I had the important duty of investigating the conduct
of the Freedman's Bureau and other charges made against General
Oliver O. Howard. I wrote nearly the whole of the report,
all of it containing the arguments of the Committee, and the
summing up of the evidence. A few passages are by the Chairman,
Mr. Arnell. The Freedman's Bureau was established to aid
the colored people who had been suddenly emancipated by President
Lincoln's Proclamation, to attain a condition where they
could get their living in comfort, and their children could
be educated. General Howard, a very eminent officer in the
Civil War, afterward at the head of the Army, was a man singularly
fitted for this duty. He was profoundly religious, absolutely
incorruptible, a man of very kind heart, not afraid to break
out new paths, apt to succeed in all his undertakings, a lover
of Liberty and thoroughly devoted to his work. The resources
at his command were the unclaimed pay of the negro soldiers
and some other sums specially granted from the Treasury. But
the work was one entirely different from anything which had
been accomplished by government agency in the country before.
He purchased tracts of land, which were divided into building
lots, which were sold to the colored people. Money was advanced
to them to build houses, the Freedman's Bureau taking a mortgage
as security. The Bureau endowed Howard University, of which
General Howard was made President. A large Congregational
Church was built in Washington with moneys advanced by the
Bureau, the religious society giving its bonds at seven per
cent. for which the structure was ample security. General
Howard had incurred the bitter animosity not only of the enemies
of the negro race, who disliked the whole object for which
the Bureau was founded, but of other persons whom he had offended.
I believe in no instance was there any loss to the Government,
or to the fund in his charge. He was able to establish in
comfortable homes, and to educate and to provide work for
many thousand freedmen who had flocked to Washington during
the disturbed period immediately following emancipation. After
a thorough investigation, where the prosecution was conducted
by Fernando Wood, a very distinguished and able Representative
from New York, formerly Mayor of the City, General Howard
was completely exonerated by the report of the majority of
the Committee. The report was accepted by the House.
In 1873 I visited Louisiana, as Chairman of a special committee
raised for the purpose of inquiring into the conditions there,
and ascertaining which of two rival State governments was
the lawful one. The investigation disclosed a terrible story
of murder, brutality and crime. I made the report, signed
also by Mr. Wheeler, afterward Vice-President, and Mr. Frye,
now Senator and President pro tempore of the Senate. It told
the dreadful story of these things with absolute truth and
fidelity. It is not worth while to revive these memories
now. But at the same time I endeavored to do full justice
to the better qualities of the Southern people and to explain
how it happened that men otherwise so honorable and brave
and humane could be led by the passions of a political warfare
and race prejudice to commit such offences. Mr. Lamar, of
Mississippi, one of the most brilliant and able statesmen
of his time, sought an interview with me after the report
went in and thanked me for what I had said of the Southern
people, and told me that "I was the first Northern man who
seemed to be capable of doing them justice." What he thought
will be found also stated by him.
In a speech made before a Democratic meeting in the spring
of 1875, Mr. Lamar said ("Life of Lamar," p. 221);
"Well, the character of that last Committee--especially of
its Chairman, Mr. George F. Hoar--was such as to lead to no
expectation that there would be any indulgence shown to the
people of the South, or any very harsh criticisms of his own
party. By inheritance, by training, by political association,
he was intensely anti-Southern. His manners toward Southern
men, so bitter are his feelings, are often cold and reserved;
and nothing but his instinct and refinement as a gentleman,
which he is in every respect, saved him from sometimes being
supercilious; acute in intellect, cultured, trained to the
highest expression of his powers, quick in his resentments
and combative in temperament, we certainly expected no quarter
from his hands. But beneath all this there were genuine truth
and manhood in Hoar that lifted him above the sordid feeling
of malignant passion. He went, then, to that country, and
he made a report; and, while there is much in it that saddened
my heart, while there is much which I say is unwise and unjust
in his observations, there are some things, fellow citizens,
which you people of the North should hark to bear in mind,
while you are coming to your conclusions with reference to
the relations which you intend to sustain to the prostrate
people of my section. Here, fellow citizens, is what Mr.
Hoar says in reference to the South: 'We do not overlook the
causes which tended to excite deep feeling and discontent
in the white population of Louisiana. (I must read these
extracts to you because a people's interest, a people's destiny,
hang largely upon the action of the people of New Hampshire
and other Northern States.) There has been great maladministration;
public funds have been wasted (that means public funds have
been embezzled, appropriated by these governments that are
sucking the blood, the life blood, from a people already impoverished
by four years of calamitous war); public lands have been wasted,
public credit impaired.' Now, fellow citizens, that is the
testimony of one of the most uncompromising Republicans in
this country."
Mr. Lamar would not have used, I am sure, the word "bitter"
after we came to know each other better. Perhaps I may be
forgiven if I insert here a letter from Mr. Lamar's nephew,
just elected a member of Congress from the State of Florida.
I know I must attribute the eulogy which it contains to his
kindness of heart, and desire to meet more than half way my
own cordial feeling toward the portion of my countrymen to
whom he belongs. I do not take them literally. But I confess
I like to leave on record, if I may, some evidence which will
contradict the charge so constantly made by critics near home,
that I am a man of intense partisan and personal bitterness.
TALLAHASSEE, FLA.,
Mch 10th, 1903
SENATOR GEORGE F. HOAR,
Washington, D. C.
_Dear Sir:_
I would like very much to have a copy of your address lately
made before the Union League of Chicago. I see notices of
the speech in the newspapers.
Also your address made before the New England Society some
three years ago, if you have a copy.
Your picture, sent to me at my request, hangs in my room.
It is the face and form of a great American statesman. One
whom our people have learned to admire and love.
Our people venerate your years, still in vigorous life and
in full possession of great faculties of mind and heart.
We look to you and other great Northern men to keep us in
our sectional and racial questions. In one way these questions
mean so little to the sections of the country not immediately
interested in them, but they mean so much to the Southern
people who have to deal with them as live, every day matters.
I left the Attorney-General's office in this State on February
28th, ult., after fourteen years service and two years yet
to run. On March 4th, inst., I became Congressman from the
new Third Congressional district.
I go to Washington as a Democrat, but with full knowledge
that my party does not contain all the right or all the wrong
in it. And I hope that in the vexing questions of the future,
that by a temperate course of thought and action, that my
influence may be worth something, however small, to my people
beyond even a party view.
But after all I feel that great and representative men of
other sections can assist the Southern people in these questions
quite as much, if not more, than we can assist ourselves.
I hope to meet you next winter. The biography of my Uncle
Justice Lamar shows how much he esteemed you and your regard
for him. I am with much respect,
Very truly yours,
(Signed) W. B. LAMAR.
I was also placed by Mr. Blaine on the Committee to investigate
the Union Pacific Railroad and the Credit Mobilier. I shall
give an account of this matter in a separate chapter.
There was great public excitement on the subject. After
the report on the Union Pacific Railroad, and within about
a week of the end of Congress, the House adopted a resolution
to make a like investigation of the affairs of the Central
Pacific Railroad. It was absolutely impossible to accomplish
such an inquiry within the few remaining days of the session.
But if we failed to attempt it the political newspapers and
what are called Independent newspapers, always much less fair
to public men than political opponents, would have charged
us with failing to make the investigation from a desire to
screen the offenders. The charge would have been greedily
believed in the excited condition of the public mind, which
our explanation would never reach. So I advised the Committee
to call Mr. Huntington, the President of the Central Pacific
Railroad, and ask him to produce the accounts and records
of his Company. To this it was anticipated that he would
reply that these records were in California and that he could
not get them before Congress and the authority of the Committee
would expire. Mr. Huntington was accordingly summoned. He
brought with him Mr. William M. Evarts, as counsel, and
testified as was expected. He then, however, asked leave
of the Committee to make a statement in regard to the relation
of his road to the National Government. This was granted.
He then went on to say what a great public benefactor his
company had been. It had connected the two oceans by a great
railroad across the continent, saving millions upon millions
to the commerce of the country. But beside that he said it
had saved to the Government more than all the moneys the Government
had advanced toward its construction, by preventing Indian
wars. One winter especially his railroad corporation had
fed a hostile Indian tribe when the Government supplies had
failed to reach them, saving them from the danger of starvation
and saving the Government from a bloody and costly Indian
war. I said, Mr. Huntington--Was not that ultra vires for
a railroad corporation? He answered, "No, Sir! no, Sir! we
never gave them anything as strong as that." He evidently
thought he was being charged with supplying the Indians with
liquor, and that ultra vires meant extra strength.
The only other important committee work that I now recall
during my service in the House related to the investigation
of the conduct of Mr. Speaker Blaine. He was charged with
having received stock in a railroad at a price much less than
its then value with the expectation of paying for it by aiding
the passage of legislation in which the road was interested,
by political service as a Member of the House of Representatives,
and especially by his great influence as Speaker. It was
further claimed that in letters addressed by him to a man
named Mulligan he had demanded conveyances of such stock in
compensation for a ruling he had before made by which a measure
in conflict with the interest of the road was defeated. These
charges were referred to the Committee of the Judiciary. The
House was then Democratic and the majority of the Committee
was made up of Mr. Blaine's political opponents. The investigation
was conducted in a spirit of bitter hostility to him. The
evidence was taken by a sub-committee of which I was not
a member. But as disputed questions of procedure and as
to the admission of evidence were constantly coming up which
were referred always to the full committee, which was considered
in session all the time for that purpose,--the members were
every day, sometimes several times a day, summoned from their
seats in the House to the meeting of the Committee. I was
familiar with the whole case as it went in. It was expected
that there would be a hostile report, and it was understood
that I should be charged with the duty of making a minority
report.
I studied that evidence as thoroughly and faithfully as I
could. I have gone over the matter very carefully since.
I was then satisfied, and am satisfied now, that the charges
against Mr. Blaine of any corruption or wrong-doing were
totally unsustained. They would never have found credit
for a moment except in minds deeply excited by the bitter
political passion which at that time raged to a degree wholly
unknown in our political strife to-day. All Mr. Blaine did
was to say when he applied for the purchase of the stock to
the men who were then trying to dispose of it that "he should
not be a dead-head." He meant by that only that he was able
to be of advantage to any undertaking in which he should be
interested, an assurance which his known ability and energy
and large acquaintance with business men thoroughly warranted
him in making. There was no action of Congress expected,
or legislation in which the railroad was likely to have an
interest. All that it expected to get from Congress had been
obtained already.
The other charge that he demanded a favor in this purchase
as compensation for a ruling he had made as Speaker was, in
my judgment, equally unfounded and trivial. He simply alluded
to the fact that he had made a ruling which had saved the
road from hostile legislation. Every lawyer had doubtless
many times had jurymen remind him of the fact that they had
been on juries that gave verdicts in his favor. Every Member
of Congress likes to meet a pensioner for whom he has secured
a pension. Neither has any thought of wrong in reviving such
a memory. The ruling Mr. Blaine had made was simply stating
a clear rule of the House about which there could be no doubt
whatever. At the same time, I said at the time, what I deem
it my duty to repeat now, I think Mr. Blaine erred, when
he thought it proper to embark in such a speculative investment.
Members of legislative bodies, especially great political leaders
of large influence, ought to be careful to keep a thousand
miles off from relations which may give rise to even a suspicion
of wrong. Their influence and character are the property
of their country, and especially valuable to their political
associates. The great doctrines of which they are the influential
advocates must not be imperiled by any smell of fire on their
garments. But an error of judgment, or of good taste, on
their part, is very far from being corruption. Henry Clay
was a gambler. Other eminent statesmen both in this country
and in Europe have made no secret of even worse vices than
that. They are undoubtedly to be disapproved, in some cases
severely condemned. But the people always have made and always
will make a distinction between such offences and the final
unpardonable guilt of corruption in office.
James G. Blaine was a man of many faults and many infirmities.
But his life is a part of the history of his country. It
will be better for his reputation that the chapter of that
history which relates to him shall be written by a historian
with a full and clear sense of those faults and infirmities,
concealing nothing, and extenuating nothing. But also let
him set nought down in malice. Mr. Blaine was a brilliant
and able man, lovable, patriotic, far-seeing, kind. He acted
in a great way under great responsibilities. He was wise
and prudent when wisdom and prudence were demanded. If he
had attained to the supreme object of his ambition and reached
the goal of the Presidency, if his life had been spared to
complete his term, it would have been a most honorable period,
in my opinion, in the history of the country. No man has
lived in this country since Daniel Webster died, save McKinley
alone, who had so large a number of devoted friends and admirers
in all parts of the country.
CHAPTER XIX
SALMON P. CHASE
Among the very interesting characters with whom I have formed
an acquaintance in Washington was Chief Justice Salmon P.
Chase. I saw him but a few times. But on those occasions
he spoke to me with a freedom with which famous public men
seldom speak, even to intimate friends. I incline to think
it was his habit to speak freely to comparative strangers.
But of that I know nothing.
When I first went to Washington, in the spring of 1869, I
was invited by Commissary-General Eaton, whose daughter was
the wife of my cousin, to attend a meeting of a club at his
house. The club was composed of scientific men who met at
each other's houses. The reading of a paper by the host was
followed by a supper. The host was permitted to invite such
guests as he saw fit, not members of the club. Chief Justice
Chase was one of the guests. I was introduced to him there
for the first time, except that I went, when I was quite a
young man, long before the war, to hear him speak and, with
a great many other persons, went up and shook hands with him
after the speech was over.
The Chief Justice left General Eaton's house when I did,
and asked me if I were going his way. So we walked together
about a mile. He talked all the way about the next nomination
for the Presidency; about the prospects of the various candidates,
and the probability of the success of the Democratic Party
if they had a candidate who would be satisfactory to the Republicans
who were disaffected with the present policies. It was evident
that his great man had this subject, to use a cant phrase,
"on the brain." This was before the Chief Justice had his
paralytic shock. He was in the full vigor of health, a model
of manly strength and manly beauty, giving every evidence
that his great intellectual power was undiminished.
Not long afterward a friend of mine went to Ohio with his
wife. In those days it was necessary for persons going from
Washington to the Northwest to cross Baltimore in a carriage--
the Washington station and the Ohio station being in different
parts of the city. A friend of my friend went to Baltimore
to see his wife, who was going to Ohio, across the city and
then to return to Washington. He knew Chief Justice Chase.
He introduced him to my friend on the cars, and they rode
across Baltimore in one carriage, the two gentlemen, the Chief
Justice, and the wife. The Chief Justice talked to him whom
he had just met for the first time during the whole ride of
half an hour on the same engrossing subject, as he had to
me before.
I think there can be no doubt that Chief Justice Chase, like
many other great men, was consumed by an eager and passionate
ambition for the Presidency. That has been true of other
great statesmen as well as of many small statesmen. It has
been specially true of great orators. The American people
are fond of eloquent speech. They make their admiration known
to the speaker in a way that is quite likely to turn his head.
In Plato's day the bee Hymettus mingled with the discourse
as it came forth. To-day the bee lights in his ear and fills
his fancy with delightful dreams of a hive by the Potomac,
thatched with flowers and redolent with the incense of flattery.
I do not doubt that if Salmon P. Chase had been elected President
of the United States he would have administered that lofty
office honorably and to the advantage of the country. But
I think that his ambition clouded his judgment, and inclined
him, perhaps unconsciously, to take an attitude as a Judge
on some of the political questions on which parties were divided
after President Grant came in, which would be acceptable to
the Democrats, and would make it possible for him to accept
their nomination. But all this is merest speculation. If
he had maintained his mental and physical vigor it is quite
likely that he would have been nominated when Greeley was
nominated. If he had been, it is not unlikely, in my opinion,
that he would have been elected. I thought at the time that
if Mr. Adams had been nominated in 1872, he might have been
chosen. The discontent with Grant was far-reaching, for the
reasons I have stated elsewhere. But the nomination of Greeley
was ludicrous and preposterous. Almost every attack on the
first Administration of President Grant was answered by the
political speakers on his side by a quotation from Greeley
or the New York _Tribune._ A candidate seeking an election
by reason of the mistakes his antagonist has made in accordance
with his own advice, does not stand much chance of winning.
The Southern people, even the white Democrats, always had
a kindly feeling for Grant. They did not resent what he had
done as a soldier, as they resented what Greeley had said
as a politician. They knew too, in spite of their strong
differences with Grant, the innate honesty, justice and courage
of the man.
Chase would have been a far stronger candidate than Greeley.
However any political antagonist might dislike him, every
antagonist must respect him, and nobody could laugh at him.
The question of the constitutional power of Congress to make
Treasury notes legal tender for all debts, whether incurred
before or after they were issued, came up for the decision
of the Court when Chase was Chief Justice. It was a question
which profoundly interested and excited the public. The Democratic
Party, which more lately favored the payment of all debts,
public and private, in irredeemable paper money, had assailed
the Republican Administration during the war for providing,
under an alleged necessity that Treasury notes, called greenbacks,
should be legal tender for the discharge of all debts. The
constitutionality of that law had been affirmed by the courts
of fifteen States. It had been denied by one court only,
that of Kentucky, the eminent Chancellor dissenting. There
was scarcely a Republican lawyer or a Republican judge in
the country who doubted the constitutional power of Congress
to impose such a quality upon the paper currency if, in the
opinion of Congress, the public safety should require it.
The question came before the Supreme Court of the United States
in the case of Hepburn _v._ Griswold, and was decided by that
Court in December, 1869.
The Court were all agreed that Congress has power under the
Constitution to do not only what the Constitution expressly
authorizes, but to adopt any means appropriate, and plainly
adapted to carry in to effect any such express power. So
the two questions arose: First, Was the power to issue legal
tender notes an appropriate, and plainly adapted means to
any end which the National Government has a right to accomplish?
Second, Who are to judge of the question whether the means
be so appropriate, or plainly adapted?
There were then seven Justices of the Supreme Court. Chief
Justice Chase, with the three Democratic Justices held the
Legal Tender Law unconstitutional, and declared that a law
making anything but gold or silver legal tender for debts
was neither appropriate nor plainly adapted to carrying on
war, or any other end for which the National Government was
erected.
He had, when Secretary of the Treasury during the War of the
Rebellion, originally advised the issuing of these legal
tender notes. He had visited the Capitol. He had called
members of the two Houses of Congress from their seats and,
by his great urgency, overcome their reluctance to vote for
the Legal Tender Law. My late colleague, Mr. Dawes, has more
than once told me, and others in my hearing, that he was exceedingly
reluctant to resort to that measure, and that he was induced
to support it by Mr. Chase's earnest declaration that it was
impossible that the War should go on without it, that he was
at the last extremity of his resources. A Government note
had been formally protested in the city of New York. I have
heard a like statement from many public men, survivors of
that time. It is not too much to say, that without Mr. Chase's
urgent and emphatic affirmation that the war must stop and
the Treasury be bankrupt and the soldiers without their pay,
unless this measure were adopted, it never could have passed
Congress.
Notwithstanding this, Mr. Chase puts his opinion in the Legal
Tender Cases on the ground that this was not a necessary,
or plainly adapted means to the execution of the unquestionable
power of carrying on a great war in which the life of the
Republic was in issue.
The question whether this necessity existed was a question
of fact. Now questions of fact cannot be determined by the
courts. If the fact be one on which depends the propriety
of legislation it must be determined by the law-making power.
Of course, where facts are of such universal or general knowledge
that the court can know them judicially, without proof, like
the fact of the time of the rising of the sun, or the laws
of mechanics, or the customs prevailing in great branches
of business, the court may take judicial notice of them. But
how could Mr. Chase, as a judge, judicially declare as a fact
that the issue of legal tender notes was not necessary for
carrying on the war, when he had, as Secretary of the Treasury,
having better means of knowledge than any other man, so earnestly
and emphatically declared such necessity? How could he, as
a judge of one court, determine as of an unquestionable fact
of universal knowledge that the issue of a legal tender note
was not necessary for maintaining the Government in that
terrible war, when fourteen State tribunals, and a minority
of his own court, had declared the fact to be the other way?
This decision gave rise to an attack upon the Administration
of President Grant and especially upon Judge Hoar, then Attorney-
General, which, although it has no foundation whatever in
fact, is occasionally revived in later years, that the Court
was packed by appointing two new Judges to reverse the decision.
The decision in Hepburn _v._ Griswold was announced in the
Supreme Court February 7, 1870. The court met at twelve o'clock.
The decision was read by the Chief Justice after several opinions
had been read by other judges, so that the afternoon must
have advanced considerably before it was promulgated. It
had not been made known to the public in advance by the press,
and President Grant and Attorney-General Hoar both affirmed
that they had no knowledge of the decision and had no expectation
of what it would be before it was announced. I myself had
a conversation with Attorney-General Hoar in the afternoon
of that day. He had just heard the decision from the Chief
Justice with great astonishment and surprise.
Four judges concurred in the decision. There were two vacancies
in the court--one occasioned by the withdrawal of Mr. Justice
Grier, and one by the Act of Congress of the previous Session
providing for an additional judge. At twelve o'clock in the
morning of that day, before the decision in Hepburn _v._ Griswold
was made known, President Grant had sent to the Senate, and
the Senate had received the communication nominating Messrs.
Strong and Bradley to these vacancies. They were regarded
as the ablest lawyers in the circuits where they dwelt. By
common consent of the entire profession they are among the
ablest judges who ever sat on the Supreme Bench. In my opinion
Mr. Justice Bradley has had no superior, save Marshall alone,
on that court, in every quality of a great judge. I doubt
if he has had, on the whole, an equal, save Marshall alone.
They have both joined in opinions since their appointment
in very important political questions, in which the policy
of the party to which they belonged was not sustained. An
offer to them of these vacancies in their circuits was the
most natural and proper thing that could have been done.
There was no Republican lawyer in the country, of any considerable
prominence, so far as I know, who questioned the constitutionality
of the Legal Tender Act, of distinction enough to make him
thought of anywhere for a place on the Supreme Bench. So
far as I now remember, there is but one instance of an appointment
by the President of the United States to the Supreme Court
of a man not belonging to his own political party. That is
the case of Mr. Justice Jackson, who was appointed by President
Harrison on my own earnest recommendation. There has never
been made in any quarter, so far as I know, a statement or
pretence that there existed any evidence that President Grant
made these appointments, or that any member of his Cabinet
advised it because of its possible effect on the Legal Tender
Law. Yet this foolish and dirty charge has found extensive
credit. I read it once in the London _Times._ It was, however,
in a communication written by a degenerate and recreant American
who was engaged in reviling his own country. It was also
referred to by Mr. Bryan in his book on the United States.
I sent him a copy of a pamphlet I prepared on the subject,
and received from him a letter expressing his satisfaction
that the story was without foundation. It is the fashion
still, in some quarters, to speak, in spite of the decisions
of the Supreme Court and the numerous State courts, to which
I have referred, as if it were too clear for argument that
Congress had no right to make the Government notes a legal
tender. The gentlemen who talk in that way, however, are
almost universally men of letters, or men without any legal
training or any considerable legal capacity. They are of
that class of political philosophers who are never trusted
by their countrymen to deal with authority with any practical
question either legislative, administrative, or judicial.
While saying this, I wish to affirm my own belief that, while
it may be in some great emergencies like that of our late
Civil War essential to the maintenance of the Government
that this power which I believe Congress has, without a shadow
of a reasonable question, should be exercised, yet I should
hold it a great calamity if it were exercised except on such
an occasion. It is a dangerous power, like the power of suspending
the writ of _Habeas corpus,_ or the power of declaring war,
or the power of reckless and extravagant public expenditure,
never to be exercised if it can possibly be helped. I think
the American people have, in general, settled down on this
as the reasonable view, in spite of the clamor of the advocates
of fiat money on the one side, and the extreme strict constructionists
on the other.
CHAPTER XX
ADIN THAYER
The political history of Massachusetts from 1850 until 1888
cannot be written or understood without a knowledge of the
remarkable career of Adin Thayer. When I was first nominated
for Congress, he was my earnest opponent. That was due, so
far as I know, to no dislike to me, but only to his strong
friendship for Mr. Bird. After my election, he became my
stanch friend. Our friendship continued without interruption
to his death. The name of Adin Thayer is dear to my memory
and to my heart.
I have often said that there were four men who honored me
with their friendship, whose counsel I liked to get under
any difficult public responsibility, and that when these four
men approved or agreed with anything I myself said or did,
I did not care what the rest of mankind thought. It would
have been better to say that, although I did care very much
what the rest of mankind thought, I knew that when these
men were on my side, the wisdom and conscience of Massachusetts
would be there also.
One of them was John G. Whittier. He added to the great genius
which made him a famous poet the quality of being one of the
wisest and most discreet political advisers and leaders who
ever dwelt in the Commonwealth.
Another was my own brother, Judge Hoar, of whom I will not
now undertake to speak. He was the last friend of mine who
always performed the act of friendship to which Adin Thayer
was never unequal, that of telling me my faults and mistakes
with much more thoroughness and plainness of speech than he
ever used in praising any of my virtues.
The third was Samuel May, who died in an honored old age at
Leicester, his sunset hour cheered by the memories of noble
service and the consciousness of having borne his full share
in the greatest achievement of human history accomplished
by mere political instrumentalities--the freedom of the slave.
The fourth was Adin Thayer, a man quite as remarkable in his
way as either of the others in his. Each of them gave high
and brave counsel in great emergencies. Each of them had
a great part in the overthrow of the political forces that
were on the side of slavery, and in the triumphant overthrow
of the combination which would, if successful, have corrupted
Massachusetts and made of her the worst instead of the best
example on earth of republican self-government.
There is hardly room here for more than a sketch of Adin
Thayer. He was a very striking, original and picturesque
figure in the history of the Commonwealth. He was a strong,
brave, wise, unselfish man. His life, so far as he took part
in political affairs, was devoted to objects wholly public,
never personal. He was the greatest organizer of righteousness
in his generation. We must go back to Sam Adams to find any
one who deserves to be compared with him in this respect.
I cannot now undertake to tell the story of his important
services to the Commonwealth at some very critical periods,
or to narrate the history of all the political events in which
he bore so conspicuous a share. The time to do this has not
come. It can be done only when the correspondence, the inner
personal life of men who were the leaders of Massachusetts
during the stormy period through which she has lately passed,
shall be given to the world.
Worcester County, from the day of Rufus Putnam until to-day,
has in every generation contributed eminent persons to the
service of the Commonwealth. But the service of none of them
has been in the same field as his. Indeed, as I have just
said, we must go back to the days of the Revolution to find
a conspicuous character who united so completely absolute
disinterestedness of character, inflexible integrity, passionate
love for Massachusetts, devotion to the loftiest ideals, and
was at the same time a most skilful and efficient organizer
of political forces.
Adin Thayer was born in the town of Mendon, in the County
of Worcester, December 5, 1828. His birthplace was near Chestnut
Hill, in the territory which was incorporated into the town
of Blackstone in 1845. He was the son of Caleb Thayer and
Hannah, the daughter of Peter Gaskill of Mendon. His ancestors,
so far as known, in all the line of descent, were New England
farmers. No better race ever existed for the development
of the highest intellectual and moral quality. They wrung
a difficult livelihood from the soil and forest. They were
educated by the responsibilities of self-government. They
were accustomed to meditate and discuss with each other the
profoundest questions of theology and of the State. Their
local traditions had made them familiar with a stimulant and
heroic history, in which every family had borne its share.
In these Puritan communities life was a perpetual gymnasium.
At the time of Mr. Thayer's birth, the strictness of the
Puritan manners had softened somewhat. A milder theology
was slowly making its way, but the race which settled in New
England still remained without a tincture of any foreign element.
The town was one of the oldest in Worcester County. In every
generation it had contained men of large influence in the
Commonwealth, who had kept alive the interest of the people
in public affairs. Jonathan Russell, who, with Adams, Bayard,
Clay and Gallatin, negotiated the treaty of Ghent, and who
met rather an ignominious defeat afterward in an attempt to
measure lances with John Quincy Adams; the Hastings family,
three of whom were eminent lawyers, two of them having represented
the district in Congress; were of a generation that passed
from the stage at about the time of Judge Thayer's birth.
The people were fond of discussing public questions, not
only in town meeting, but in neighborhood gatherings and
debating societies. The Judge used often to tell of the
eager interest with which in his boyhood he listened to these
encounters. There were two men, one of whom survived until
Judge Thayer came to manhood, the other of whom died recently
in an honored old age, who were less known abroad than those
I have named, but who exerted a powerful influence upon the
community and upon the character of the observant and impressible
boy. One of them was Dan Hill, the other the Reverend Adin
Ballou.
Dan Hill was one of the most remarkable men Worcester County
ever contained. He was not bred to the bar, and was without
the advantage of what is called a liberal education. But
he had a wonderful aptness for understanding legal principles
and the weight and effect of evidence. His neighbors when
in trouble instinctively sought him as a shield. He was an
unerring counsellor in the conduct of complicated affairs.
His aid was extensively sought in the preparation of causes,
in settling estates, and as guardian and trustee. He was
concerned in hundreds of cases. It would be hard to name
one in which he had anything to do that did not terminate
to the advantage of the party who employed him. He had none
of the arts of the pettifogger. He cared little for his own
personal advantage. He had a native and lofty scorn for dishonesty
and meanness. He was never better pleased than when, without
prospect of gain for himself, he was employing his talents
in the protection of poor and honest men against fraud and
oppression. He had a large public spirit. He was early an
anti-slavery man, and one of the founders of the Free Soil
Party. He was specially at home in the Mendon and Blackstone
town meetings, in the meetings of the school district, in the
caucus, in the temperance and anti-slavery meetings and other
neighborhood gatherings where the people discussed matters
which concerned the public welfare. In all these he gave
sensible counsel in common affairs and high counsel in high
affairs.
The influence of Adin Ballou, of whom Judge Thayer delighted
to speak in his later years, may be traced in the strong sympathy
the Judge always showed for aspirations, although exhibited
in the most crude and grotesque fashion, for the reconstruction
of society according to the laws of a newer and more spiritual
life. Mr. Ballou, a man of clear intellect, stainless life,
sweet and amiable temper, undertook with about thirty companions
and disciples to form a community which should have the Beatitudes
for constitution, charter and by-laws. This community was
established at Hopedale, now a separate town, then part of
Milford, formerly part of Mendon. Some of the most important
members of this body withdrew from it, doubting its ability to
maintain itself financially, and it was abandoned. But if
its sweet and gracious influence on the social life in its
neighborhood be any measure of its success, it was highly
successful.
Hopedale became famous afterward as the dwelling-place of
George Draper, one of the most eminent manufacturers and sagacious
and public-spirited citizens--founder of the Home Market Club--
the reputation and honor of whose name has been still more
extended by his sons, the eldest of whom is the admirable
soldier, Representative to Congress and Minister to Italy,
General William F. Draper.
Judge Thayer was named for Adin Ballou, although he afterward
dropped the middle name. Mr. Ballou gives his estimate of
his namesake in the following letter:
HOPEDALE, MASS., Aug. 20, 1888.
HON. GEORGE F. HOAR,--
_My Dear Sir,_--
Your lines of 11th inst. were duly received. I am very glad
to learn that a Biography of Hon. Adin Thayer is in process
of preparation, and that the work is in such competent hands.
I reckoned him among my highly esteemed personal friends,
and was painfully shocked by the news of his lamentable death.
I knew his grandfather before him, his father and mother,
and the whole family connexion more or less intimately. They
were often attendant on my public ministrations, and I have
been with them, during my long life, on many occasions of
interest, joy and sorrow. They have all been persons of strong
common sense, downright honesty and solid worth. Judge Thayer
descended from a sturdy, intelligent and respectable yeoman
stock. And he has honored his heredity by his own intellectual
and moral excellence. Although my personal intimacy with
him has never been close enough to enable me to describe the
footsteps of his upward career with graphical exactness, or
to enrich my memory with interesting anecdotes, I can bear
witness in a general way to his good characteristics, especially
in his youth while he was nearest under my observation, and
to some extent those of his mature years. He was an industrious,
affectionate, and dutiful son from childhood to maturity.
He evinced early intelligence, rationality and moral principle
of a superior type, availing himself by close application
of every opportunity for acquiring useful knowledge, and did
so, as the sequel proved, successfully. He was always an
independent, acute and logical thinker on a wide range of
subjects, as well outside of his professional life as inside.
But his constitution practically confined his ambition and
pursuits to the state of the world's affairs as manageable
for the time being, rather than to expending his energies
for the realization of theories greatly in advance of current
public opinion. In this respect he differed from his friend
who writes this graphic contribution; whom nevertheless he
always respected. But he was by no means a fossil conservative
lagging in the rear of progress. He marched just as far forward
in the column as he was sure it could command the ground.
Thus he espoused the anti-slavery movement in politics in
its germinal stage, and became one of the most sagacious and
efficient organizers of the Republican Party in his native
State. Of this, however, others are better qualified to treat
than this friend. The same is true of his pecuniary and
financial achievements; also of his legal, judicial and official
attainments. Let abler pens in those departments eulogise
him. Whatever this writer saw of him in the judicial chair
or legal forum was unexceptionably creditable to him.
On the great themes of theology his conceptions and beliefs
accorded mainly with those of the writer. They were sublimely
liberal and regenerative, excluding all notions of the divine
attributes and government in the least degree derogatory to
the character of God as the Supreme, All-Perfect Father of
the Universe.
Hoping that his numerous personal friends in the various
relations of life will do greater justice and honor to his
memory than this pen can, the foregoing is respectfully tendered.
Very respectfully yours,
ADIN BALLOU.
But it is not necessary to seek an explanation of Judge Thayer's
interest in life beyond the native tendencies which came to
him by lawful inheritance. More than one person of his name
and blood in former generations were noted for their public
spirit and exercised a large influence in the affairs of the
town. Traditions of two brothers, Captain Caleb Thayer and
'Squire Elisha Thayer, are still fresh. Captain Caleb Thayer
was the great-grandfather of Adin Thayer, Esquire. Elijah
was grandfather of Hon. Eli Thayer, member of Congress from
the Worcester district, and founder of the Emigrant Aid Society,
which had so illustrious a share in saving Kansas from slavery.
Eli Thayer tells me Elijah governed Mendon. He always carried
in town meeting what he wanted to carry, and killed what he
wanted to kill.
Caleb Thayer, the father of the Judge, was an early anti-
slavery man, and one of the founders of the Free Soil Party.
He was a man of vigorous sense and great public spirit. He
had large interests in Mendon and Blackstone. He represented
Mendon in the Legislature and helped elect Charles Sumner
to the Senate in 1851. He was generally sociable and cheerful,
but subject to occasional periods of depression of spirits,
when he liked to remain in solitude until the time of gloom
passed by.
Adin Thayer's education was chiefly in the district schools
of his neighborhood. Hosea Biglow may be taken as the type
of the ordinary Yankee country boy of that day. Adin had
the advantage, better, if you can have but one, than any
university, of being brought up in the country. He was a
member of that absolute democracy, the old-fashioned New
England country town, where character and worth were the
only titles to respect in the community, where the son of
a President or the son of a Senator or of a Governor stood
on an absolute and entire social equality with the son of the
washerwoman. If the son of a President or Governor gave
himself any airs on that account, he had applied to him a
very vigorous and effective remedy well known to our Saxon
ancestors.
Adin Thayer came to manhood when the hosts of slavery and
freedom were marshalling for the great contest for the territory
between the Mississippi and the Pacific.
He was soaked in Scripture, especially in the Old Testament,
a soaking which has somewhat the same effect on the moral
and mental fibre that seven years in a tanner's vat used to
have upon sole leather. How often I have known Adin, on some
great political occasion or crisis, to crush some sophistry
or compromise, or attempt to get things on a lower plane,
by indignantly flashing out with some old text, such as, "Righteousness
exalteth a nation," or "Sin is a reproach to any people,"
or answer, as he did once, to a gentleman who wanted him to
sacrifice some moral principle for the sake of harmony in
the Republican Party, "My friend, we will be first pure, and
then peaceable."
Adin Thayer was a member of the School Committee of Worcester
for some years. He was Senator from Worcester, I think, for
two years, in 1871 and 1872. He was appointed Collector of
Internal Revenue for the eighth district by President Lincoln
on August 26, 1862, and gave way to a successor appointed
by President Johnson, September 14, 1866. He was reappointed
by President Grant, June 22, 1872, and held the office until
January, 1877, when the eighth and tenth districts were consolidated.
He was appointed Judge of Probate by Governor Rice in the
fall of 1877, and held that office until his death. He was
Chairman of the State Committee in 1878. He gave to the public
three or four essays or speeches printed in newspapers, and
some of them in pamphlet form. They were, under one title
or another, treatises on the moral duties of citizenship
and appeals to the youth of the State to take their full and
patriotic share in its administration.
But his function in life was that of an organizer. He was
an ambitious man. But he never suffered his ambitions to
stand in the way of what he thought was the good of the Commonwealth
or of the party. Many and many a time, as there are plenty
of persons who can testify, it had been the expectation that
he would be the choice of his party for Senator or for Representative
of the district in Congress, or some important municipal office,
but when the time came, Mr. Thayer was the first to suggest
that victory and harmony or the public advantage would be
best attained by some other candidate, to whose service he
gave a zeal and efficiency which he never would have given
in his own behalf. He believed in party in politics, in organization,
in work in the ward and in the school district. But he believed
in those things because they were, in his judgment, essential
to the accomplishment of the highest results in the country
and in the Commonwealth. He was absolutely incorruptible,
either by money or by office. He was a man of clean hands
and a pure heart. His methods were as open as the daylight.
He conducted the great campaign against General Butler, when
he was Chairman of the State committee. He came to Boston
and found the knees of Boston trembling, people shaking in
their shoes and their teeth chattering. He went into the
committee room, put things to rights, organized a campaign
never approached for thoroughness and efficiency in this Commonwealth,
and during the whole time there sat at the table next his
own a beautiful and refined young lady hearing and knowing
everything that went on from the beginning of the campaign
until the end. He had no political secrets. He never, to
use a common phrase, "laid his ear to the ground." He never
listened for the stamping of feet or the clapping of hands or
the shouting or excitement or acclaim of the multitude. His
ear was to the sky. He used to speak with infinite scorn of
settling questions of righteousness by a show of hands. He
had a perfect faith in the American people and the people
of Massachusetts, but it was a faith in the American people
and the people of Massachusetts, governed by reason and not
by passion, acting under constitutional restraints, listening
ever for the voice of duty, a people acting not on the first
impulse, but on sober second thought. He was often in the
minority, and once or twice in his life a bolter. He was
never afraid of being in the minority. But he never was contented
until he had changed or helped to change that minority into
a majority. He was a politician almost from his cradle to
his grave. He believed that the highest human occupation
was to take a share in the leadership and direction of a self-
governing people. He was a very tolerant, friendly and considerate
man, in dealing with men who differed from himself. He would
pardon sinners. He would pardon politicians with whose efforts
there was, as he thought, even a mingling of ambition and
self-seeking. But he had nothing but hatred and contempt
for men who received all the benefits of the Republic, but
shrank from any labor or sacrifice in its behalf. To his
mind the one base creature in the Commonwealth was the man
who said he was no politician. He thoroughly believed in
Ralph Waldo Emerson's saying, which he borrowed from his brother
Charles: "That is the one base thing in the universe, to
receive benefits and render none." He had a clear business
sense. He was the best adviser I knew of in Worcester, with
but one possible exception, for clients who were in financial
difficulties. He was a man of absolute integrity, of absolute
veracity, and of a tender and boundless compassion. One of
the most touching scenes I ever beheld was, when at his funeral,
among the men of high station and of honor, there came forward
a little group of Negroes and fugitive slaves who had been
attracted to Worcester by its reputation as the home of freedom.
They passed by the coffin with bowed heads and moistened eyes,
every one of them probably knowing him as the friend and benefactor
who had made life possible for them in this strange and unaccustomed
community. He did not get carried off his feet by any sentimentalities.
He was the best of company. You could not talk with him or
tackle him without a bright and entertaining answer. He was
no great respecter of persons in such an encounter. I remember
meeting him one day, when he said he had just been spending
Sunday in Canton. "Indeed!" said I, "my great-grandfather
used to live there, and is buried there." "Well, sir," he
answered, "it may be a very respectable town for all that."
A master of English fiction, who has won fame abroad, and
who dwelt for some little time in this country, has given
a most vivid and accurate description of Judge Thayer, his
speech and his style and eloquence and sense in a novel lately
published. One of the persons of the novel asks an English
friend to the club, which he calls the State Club. He goes
to the Club, and this is what happens:
"The State Club held its meeting in the parlor of the well-
known Warrener House. There were some fifty members present,
who received the Mayor with cheers, as he entered with his
two friends. A good deal of smoke was made, and a good many
speeches.
"Sir Hugh found interest in listening to some of the speakers,
and in looking at some of the members. Montaigne pointed
out all of the notables. One of the speakers* was a short
man, with a corpulent body and a large open face; but he was
a born orator of a certain type. Rounded and polished, mellow
and musical, his sentences rolled from his mouth in liquid
cadence and perfect balance. Sir Hugh put him down as his
ideal after-dinner speaker. He made his points clearly, neatly,
and with occasional vigor that was always surprising."
[Footnote]
* John D. Long.
[End of Footnote]
"'He reminds me of the Younger Pitt. Who is he?' asked Sir
Hugh, with a touch of enthusiasm that was in striking contrast
with his habitual and aristocratic insouciance.
"'Oh, that,' said Montaigne, with a smile, 'is Mr. William
Shortley, commonly called Billy Shortlegs. He is very popular,
well up in classics, and stands a good chance of being Governor
some day. Shall I introduce you?'
"'Thank you, presently. Whom are they calling for now?' inquired
Sir Hugh, as a chorus of voices cried out 'Amos Blackstone!
Amos Blackstone! Amos, Amos, Amos!'
"Montaigne himself was chanting 'Blackstone! Blackstone!'
with great gusto. When that gentleman rose, a perfect storm
of cheers went up, during which Montaigne said: 'Now you will
hear something, Sir Hugh. I shall want to know what you think
of him.'
"Sir Hugh put up his eye-glass, not that his sight was defective
but the occasion was important. Mr. Amos Blackstone had arrived
at the dignified age of three score years. In some respects
he curiously resembled the previous speaker, though considerably
his senior. He stood perhaps five feet five inches in his
boots. With the exception of his legs, he was a heavily built
man, with a large head, an ample brow, a hairless face, very
red, with large cheeks, and an under jaw like a lion. His
eyes were small, but wonderfully bright and intelligent. He
looked so portentously solemn, that when you learnt that he
was perfectly well in mind, body and estate, the inclination
to laugh was irresistible. This remarkable man began to speak
in a husky, asthmatical voice, that gradually came out of
the clouds and grew clear. His subject was, 'The Abstention
of our Young Men from Politics: Causes and Cure.' He was evidently
a master of his subject, and spoke without notes. He was
absolutely without any pretence to oratory; and yet for thirty
minutes he played upon his audience as it were a pipe, and
plucked out the heart of its mystery. He was by turn, serious,
merry, doleful, witty, pathetic, humorous, ironical and gravely
philosophic. When he was gay in speech, his face was funereal,
and during the utterances of his grave reflections, his face
was lighted up with a winning smile. There were moments when
one might have heard a pin drop; when one could not have heard
his name, if shouted, for laughter; when one's eyes gathered
a sudden mist.
"Sir Hugh did not once remove his eye-glass; he would have
put up half a dozen glasses had he had them.
"'Well,' enquired Montaigne, as the after-cheering subsided.
'A grave, melancholy intellect, with a sprightly temperament;
a wonderful man. Who is he?' asked Sir Hugh, dropping his
glass.
"'His name, as you know is Amos Blackstone; he lives some
miles away; but he is a household name.'
"'Is he in business?'
"'Yes, a lawyer; a patent lawyer. Have you ever heard of
an institution called the Political Boss?'
"'Oh, yes. At home we use him to a degree, as a sort of
political Black Bogey, to scare naughty children who like to
play at Radicalism.'
"'Well, Amos Blackstone is a specimen of the Political Boss.'
"'Indeed? You surprise me,' gasped Sir Hugh. 'Don't mistake
me; they are not all like him. He is a lion among jackals;
the best political organizer in the State. But he is getting
crowded out by younger men. We soon turn our war-horses out
to pasture, in this country,' explained Montaigne."
No man among his contemporaries in Massachusetts had a larger
number of devoted friends than Adin Thayer. Many people who
were not counted among his acquaintances were attached to
him by sympathy of political opinions and by gratitude for
his important service to the Commonwealth. He did a thousand
things for the benefit of the city, for the benefit of the
State. Many bad men found that somehow their ambitions were
nipped in the bud by a process they could hardly understand,
and many good men were called into the public service in obedience
to a summons from a hand the influence of which they never
discovered. But there were four things he largely helped
to do which were important and conspicuous in our history;
I will not say things that he did, but they were things which
would not have been done, in my judgment, if the power and
influence of Adin Thayer had been subtracted; things accomplished
with difficulty and with doubt. He stood by Charles Sumner
when that great and dangerous attempt was made to banish him
from public life in the year 1862. It was a time when Charles
Sumner, as he told me himself, could not visit the college
where he was graduated, and be sure of a respectful reception,
when a very important Republican paper, the most important
and influential Republican paper in Massachusetts, declared
that Charles Sumner could not address a popular audience in
New York with personal safety; when, under the lead of the
United States District Attorney, one of the most successful
managers of a political meeting who ever existed in Massachusetts,
an attempt was made to defeat a resolution of confidence in
him, in the Republican State Convention (when the whole of
the House of Representatives, or of the Caucus, or of the
Convention, was on one side and Richard H. Dana was on the
other, it was about an even chance which came out ahead),
Thayer stood by Mr. Sumner in that memorable State Convention,
and helped save his great career to the country and to liberty.
He was a devoted supporter of John A. Andrew. Andrew had
been Governor the traditional three years, and there were
men eager to supplant him. When Adin heard of a formidable
meeting called for that purpose, he exclaimed--I remember
very well the indignation with which he said it--"They shall
not lay their hands on the Lord's Anointed." He sent a message
to the meeting that he would fight their candidate in every
school district in Massachusetts. The scheme was abandoned.
He was largely responsible for the defeat of the scheme for
substituting biennial for annual election, and biennial sessions
of the Legislature for yearly sessions in Massachusetts,
although it did not receive its deathblow at the hands of
the people until after his death.
But his chief service, after all, was in keeping the government
of Massachusetts clean and incorruptible, at the time of the
great raid which was made upon the Republican Party in the
years between 1871 and 1883. And yet, in all these services
and contests he never appealed to a base passion or to a low
ambition in any man. He summoned the nobility in men, and
it answered to his call. He loved with the whole intensity
of his nature, his country, his Commonwealth, and the city
which was his home. He loved the great cause of human freedom
and equality with the passionate devotion which a lover feels
for his mistress. He was the most disinterested man I ever
knew in public life. He was not devoid of ambition. He believed
that the holding of public office was the best method of accomplishing
public results. But, as I have already said, when the time
came, he always subordinated his own desire to what he deemed
the welfare of the public.
He had, I think, one favorite poem. He was fond of all good
literature, especially the Bible, and was never without its
resources to illustrate or make emphatic what he had to say.
But there was one poem which was written to describe his and
my intimate friend, George L. Stearns, which I think was his
favorite above all the literature with which he was acquainted.
I have often heard him quote its verses. They set forth the
character and quality and life of Adin Thayer himself. If
Thayer had died before Stearns, I believe Whittier would have
written the same thing about him. They are familiar to my
readers, I am sure, but I will close this brief and imperfect
tribute by citing them once more:
He has done the work of a true man,--
Crown him, honor him, love him.
Weep over him, tears of women,
Stoop, manliest brows, above him!
* * * * * *
For the warmest of hearts is frozen,
The freest of hands is still;
And the gap in our picked and chosen
The long years may not fill.
No duty could overtask him,
No need his will outrun;
Or ever our lips could ask him,
His hands the work had done.
He forgot his own soul for others,
Himself to his neighbor lending;
He found the Lord in his suffering brothers,
And not in the clouds descending.
* * * * * *
Ah, well!--The world is discreet;
There are plenty to pause and wait;
But here was a man who set his feet
Sometimes in advance of fate,--
Plucked off the old bark when the inner
Was slow to renew it,
And put to the Lord's work the sinner
When saints failed to do it.
Never rode to the wrong's redressing
A worthier paladin.
Shall we not hear the blessing,
"Good and faithful, enter in!"
CHAPTER XXI
POLITICAL CORRUPTION
John Jay said that the greatest achievements of diplomacy
were often little noted by history and that their authors
got, in general, little credit. He compared it to the work
of levelling uneven ground of which the face of the earth
will show no trace when it is done. The same thing is true
of successful battles with political corruption in high places,
the most formidable peril to any Government and, if it be
not encountered and overcome, fatal to a Republic. A nation
will survive a corrupt minister or monarch, but a corrupt
people must surely and speedily perish. We have had sporadic
examples of corruption in high office at several periods in
our history. The first sixteen years after the inauguration
of the Constitution, including the Administrations of Washington,
John Adams, and the first four years of Jefferson, were by
no means free from it. But it never got so dangerous a hold
upon the forces of the Government, or upon a great political
party, as in the Administration of General Grant.
General Grant was an honest and wise man. History has assigned
him a place among our great Presidents. He showed almost
unerring judgment in military matters. He rarely, I suppose,
if ever, made a mistake in his estimate of the military quality
of a subordinate, or in a subordinate's title to confidence.
But he was very easily imposed upon by self-seeking and ambitious
men in civil life. Such men studied his humors and imposed
upon him, if not by flattery, yet by the pretence of personal
devotion. He had been himself bitterly and most unjustly
assailed by partisan and sectional hostility. When any person
to whom he had once given his confidence was detected in any
low or corrupt action Grant was very unwilling to believe
or even to listen to the charge. He seemed to set his teeth
and to say to himself: "They attack this man as they attack
me. They attack him because he is my friend. I will stand
by him." So it happened that attempts to secure pure and unselfish
administration got little help from him, and that designing
and crafty men whose political aims were wholly personal
and selfish got his ear and largely influenced his appointments
to office.
Hamilton Fish, the Secretary of State, always retained his
influence with President Grant. He was a wise, able and thoroughly
honest man. But as was fit, and indeed necessary, he kept
himself to the great interests which belonged to his Department,
and took little share, so far as the public knew, in other
questions.
General Cox, of Ohio, was an able, brave and upright man.
He resigned from President Grant's Cabinet, alleging as his
reason that he was not supported in the fight with corruption.
Judge Hoar strenuously insisted that the Judges of the newly
created Circuit Courts of the United States should be made
up of the best lawyers, without Senatorial dictation. President
Grant acted in accordance with his advice. The constitution
of the Circuit Courts gave great satisfaction to the public.
But leading and influential Senators, whose advice had been
rejected, and who were compelled by the high character of
the persons nominated to submit, and did not venture upon
a controversy with the President, were intensely angry with
the Attorney-General. The result was that when he was nominated
by the President for the office of Associate Justice of the
Supreme Court of the United States, he was rejected by the
Senate. A few Senators avowed as a pretext for their action
that there was no Judge on that Bench from the South, and
that the new appointee ought to reside in the Southern Circuit.
But these gentlemen all voted for the confirmation of Mr.
Justice Bradley, a most admirable appointment, to whom the
same objection applied. Judge Hoar never doubted that the
service of a clean, able, upright Circuit Court, appointed
without political influence, and entirely acceptable to the
public, was well worth the sacrifice. Indeed the expression
of public regard which came to him abundantly in his lifetime,
and which was manifested in the proceedings of the Bar of
Massachusetts, and the Massachusetts Historical Society, and
in the press of the country after his death, was more valued
by those to whom his memory is dear, than a thousand offices.
When I entered Congress in 1869 the corridors of the Capitol
and the Committee rooms were crowded with lobbyists. The
custom of the two Houses permitted their members to introduce
strangers on the floor. It would not be profitable to revive
all the scandals of that time. In general the men elected
to the Senate and the House were honest and incorruptible.
There were some exceptions. Adroit and self-seeking men were
often able in the multitude of claims which must necessarily
be disposed of by a rapid examination, to impose on Committees
of the two Houses.
As one of the managers of the Belknap trial, I alluded to
some of the more prominent and undisputed examples of corruption,
in the following words:
"I said a little while ago that the Constitution had no safeguards
to throw away. You will judge whether the public events of
to-day admonish us to look well to all our securities to prevent
or power to punish the great guilt of corruption in office.
We must not confound idle clamor with public opinion, or accept
the accusations of scandal and malice instead of proof. But
we shall make a worse mistake if, because of the multitude
of false and groundless charges against men in high office,
we fail to redress substantial grievances or to deal with
cases of actual guilt. The worst evil resulting from the
indiscriminate attack of an unscrupulous press upon men in
public station is not that innocence suffers, but that crime
escapes. Let scandal and malice be encountered by pure and
stainless lives. Let corruption and bribery meet their lawful
punishment.
"My own public life has been a very brief and insignificant
one, extending little beyond the duration of a single term
of Senatorial office; but in that brief period I have seen
five judges of a high court of the United States driven from
office by threats of impeachment for corruption or maladministration.
I have heard the taunt, from friendliest lips, that when the
United States presented herself in the East to take part with
the civilized world in generous competition in the arts of
life, the only product of her institutions in which she surpassed
all others beyond question was her corruption. I have seen
in the State in the Union foremost in power and wealth four
judges of her courts impeached for corruption, and the political
administration of her chief city become a disgrace and a by-
word throughout the world. I have seen the chairman of the
Committee on Military Affairs in the House, now a distinguished
member of this court, rise in his place and demand the expulsion
of four of his associates for making sale of their official
privilege of selecting the youths to be educated at our great
military school. When the greatest railroad of the world,
binding together the continent and uniting the two great seas
which wash our shores, was finished, I have seen our national
triumph and exultation turned to bitterness and shame by the
unanimous reports of three committees of Congress--two of
the House and one here--that every step of that mighty enterprise
had been taken in fraud. I have heard in highest places the
shameless doctrine avowed by men grown old in public office
that the true way by which power should be gained in the Republic
is to bribe the people with the offices created for their
service, and the true end for which it should be used when
gained is the promotion of selfish ambition and the gratification
of personal revenge. I have heard that suspicion haunts the
footsteps of the trusted companions of the President.
"These things have passed into history. The Hallam or the
Tacitus or the Sismondi or the Macaulay who writes the annals
of our time will record them with his inexorable pen. And
now when a high Cabinet officer, the Constitutional adviser
of the Executive, flees from office before charges of corruption,
shall the historian add that the Senate treated the demand
of the people for its judgment of condemnation as a farce,
and laid down its high functions before the sophistries and
jeers of the criminal lawyer? Shall he speculate about the
petty political calculations as to the effect on one party
or the other which induced his judges to connive at the escape
of the great public criminal? Or, on the other had, shall
he close the chapter by narrating how these things were detected,
reformed and punished by Constitutional processes which the
wisdom of our fathers devised for us, and the virtue and purity
of the people found their vindication in the justice of the
Senate?"
This passage was quoted very extensively by the Democratic
speakers all over the country, and was circulated as a campaign
document. I was reproached by some of my Republican associates
for furnishing ammunition for the enemy. But I was satisfied,
and I am now, that in saying what I did I rendered a great
service to the Republican Party. What was said helped to
arouse public attention, and the masses of the people--always
pure and incorruptible--set themselves earnestly and successfully
to reform the abuses.
It never occurred to me that these abuses furnished any reason
for placing the powers of the Government in the hands of the
Southern Democracy, or their ally, Tammany Hall. If the men
who saved the Union were not to be trusted to keep it pure;
if the men who abolished slavery could not carry on a Government
in freedom and in honor, certainly it was not likely that
the men of Tammany Hall, or the men who had so lately attempted
to overthrow the Government, would do it any better.
I happened to be at lunch with General Garfield just after
the Belknap trial. He spoke of my argument, and expressed
his strong sympathy and approval. I told him that I had been
looking into the history of the first sixteen years of the
Government, which included the Administrations of Washington
and John Adams and the first term of Jefferson, and that in
my opinion there was not only more corruption in proportion
then than there had been under Grant, but there had been more
in amount, notwithstanding the difference in population. I
stated to him a good many instances. He urged me to make
a speech in which I should say publicly what I had said to
him. I acted on his advice, and in the course of a speech,
in reply to Mr. Lamar, of Mississippi, I spoke as follows:
"The Republican Party, as I have said, has controlled the
Government for sixteen years, a term equal to that which covers
the whole Administration of Washington, the whole Administration
of John Adams, and the first term of Jefferson. It has been
one of those periods in which all experience teaches us to
expect an unusual manifestation of public corruption, of public
disorder, and of evils and errors of administration. A great
war; the time which follows a great war; great public debts;
currency and values inflated; the exertion of new and extraordinary
powers for the safety of the State; the sudden call of millions
of slaves to a share in the Government--any one of these things
would be expected to create great disturbances, and give rise
to great temptations and great corruptions. Our term of
office has seen them all combined. And yet I do not scruple
to affirm that not only has there been less dishonesty and
maladministration in the sixteen years of Republican rule
proportionally to the numbers and wealth of the people than
in the first sixteen years after the inauguration of Washington,
but there has been less absolutely of those things.
"Now, Mr. Speaker, I do not wish to be misunderstood. I do
not wish to be misrepresented in this matter. Let no man
assert that I refer to the evils of those days as either
excuse or palliation for the evils of ours. That generation
was a frugal and honest generation in the main, and they
would have visited with the swiftest condemnation and punishment,
every breach of public trust, whether through dishonesty or
usurpation. But they did not send to England for Benedict
Arnold. They did not restore the Tories to power. They did
not go down on their knees to George III. and ask him to
take them back into favor. They believed that if the Constitution
could not be administered honestly by a majority of the friends
of the Constitution, it could not be administered honestly
by a majority of its enemies; that if liberty were not safe
and pure in the hands of those who loved her, then liberty
was a failure upon the earth, and they did not think of intrusting
her to the hands of those who hated her. So in this generation,
had they lived to-day, they would have done simply what a
distinguished president of the convention in my own State,
whom the gentleman quotes, recommended; they would have taken
the Government from the hands of the lovers of liberty who
are dishonest and put it into the hands of men who entertain
the same sentiments but who are honest. It never would have
occurred to them that because among one hundred thousand men
there are found some few who will not keep the eighth commandment,
'Thou shalt not steal,' which is a mandate for all the public
service, they should put in power men who have no regard for
the sixth, 'Thou shalt not kill.'"
There were several conspicuous instances of corruption with
which I had personally to deal.
1. One was the Credit Mobilier.
Two Committees were appointed to investigate the affairs
of the Union Pacific Railroad Company, and the Credit Mobilier
of America. One Committee investigated the conduct of some
members of the two Houses of Congress against whom some charges
had been made. Of that Committee Judge Poland of Vermont
was the Chairman. The other Committee investigated the history
of the Union Pacific Railroad Company to report whether its
charter had been forfeited. Of that Committee Jeremiah M.
Wilson of Indiana, a very able lawyer and accomplished gentleman,
was Chairman. The next member to him on the Committee was
Judge Shellabarger of Ohio. Owing to reasons, stated later,
it fell to me as the next in rank to conduct the greater
part of the examination, and to make the report.
2. Another was the impeachment and trial of General William
W. Belknap, Secretary of War, for receiving a bribe for the
appointment of a Post Trader.
3. A third example of the prevalent laxity of morals that
occurred was the case of the Sanborn contracts. I was a
member of the House when they were investigated, but took
no special part in the proceedings.
4. A fourth example was the claim of Senators and Representatives
which had been asserted in Andrew Johnson's Administration,
and to which General Grant had partly yielded, to dictate
the appointment of executive officers. In that way a vast
army of public servants, amounting to more than one hundred
thousand in number, who were appointed and removed at the
pleasure of the Executive, became first the instrument of
keeping the dominant party in power, and afterward became
not so much the instruments and servants of party as the political
followers of ambitious men to whom they owed their office,
and on whose pleasure they depended for maintaining them.
I made, in a speech at West Newton in 1876, an earnest attack
on this system, and afterward in the Senate had a good deal
to do with framing the Civil Service Law, as it was called,
which put an end to it.
5. Perhaps the most dangerous attack upon the purity of
the Government was the attempt of General Butler to get possession
of the political power in Massachusetts, and ultimately that
of the country. What I was able to do to resist and baffle
that attempt is the most considerable part of the public service
of my life, if it has been of any public service.
I shall speak of each of these a little more fully.
The responsibility for three of these, I regret to say, rested
upon Massachusetts men, members of the Republican Party. The
Union Pacific Railroad Company and the Credit Mobilier were
made up largely of prominent Massachusetts men for whom General
Butler acted as counsel. When Mr. Ames was on trial before
the House of Representatives General Butler, then a member
of the House, appeared as a member and took part and made
the extraordinary statement to the House that he was there
as counsel for Mr. Ames.
Sanborn, who made the contracts, was a Massachusetts man.
His profits were used largely in affecting elections in Massachusetts.
The Treasury officials who were in fault, whether through
carelessness or corruption, were Massachusetts men, and the
arch contriver of the scheme was a Massachusetts man.
Yet the lesson which these things have taught me is that
the American statesman who believes that the doctrines of
his party are sound should never abandon his principles or
quit political life because of its corruption. Let him never
for any political advantage support or tolerate a corrupt
man, or vote for a corrupt candidate. If a man whose principles
are good will yield to an evil motive, it is not likely that
the man whose principles are bad will resist it. The American
people are upright and honest. They will vindicate and stand
by any man in the contest for honesty and uprightness, be
he Democrat or Republican, so long as they believe that the
ends for which he is striving are for the public good. They
will not sustain a man whose counsel they think bad, however
honest he may be in his own conduct, or however much he may
desire to secure honesty in the conduct of others. No man
ever yet accomplished much good by abandoning his party while
he continued to hold its principles. Many men have accomplished
a great deal of good by striving to purify it.
Every account of political history from the inside will exhibit
abundant evidence of wickedness, wrongdoing, and petty personal
motives, of low ambitions, of bargains and sales, of timidity,
of treachery. The reverse of the most costly tapestry looks
mean and cheap. It is said that no man is a hero to his valet.
The reason is not that the hero is mean or base, but that
the valet cannot see anything that is great and noble, but
only what is mean and base. The history of no people is heroical
to its Mugwumps. But, thank God, what is petty and personal
is also temporary and perishable. The voice of all history,
especially the voice of the history of our Republic, speaks
to us the lesson which our great philosopher taught and so
implicitly believed,
Saying, What is excellent,
As God lives, is permanent.
CHAPTER XXII
CREDIT MOBILIER
During the election of 1872 many rumors appeared in the press
of the country that there had been great corruption in the
management of the affairs of the Union Pacific Railroad. It
was charged that the members of the House and Senate, some
of whom were named, had been bribed by gifts of stock in the
Credit Mobilier to secure their influence in legislation affecting
the Union Pacific Railroad.
The Credit Mobilier Co. had been formed to take the contract
for building the Union Pacific Railroad. The stockholders
of the two companies were identical. Each stockholder of
the Credit Mobilier owned a number of shares of the Union
Pacific Railroad proportional to his holding in the former
company.
The Union Pacific Railroad Company and Central Pacific Railroad
Company received liberal land grants from the Government of
the United States, that they might each build a part of the
line which should connect the Atlantic States with the Pacific
Ocean. In addition to the land grants, each road was to receive
a loan of Government bonds, payable in thirty years, of $27,000,000,
for which the Government was to pay interest, which interest
was not required to be repaid by the roads. The roads were
also authorized to give a mortgage on their properties for
a like amount, of $27,000,000 each, which mortgage was to
be prior to the Government's lien for its loan. The charter
of the Union Pacific Railroad was granted by the Government
of the United States. That of the Central Pacific was from
the State of California. The Government undertook to remove
all Indian titles from the public land granted to the Union
Pacific Railroad for a space of 200 feet in width on each
side of its entire route, and conferred the right to appropriate
by eminent domain necessary private land for depots, turnouts,
etc., and public lands to the amount of ten alternate sections
per mile, within the limits of twenty miles on each side of
the road. It was required by the charter of the Union Pacific
Railroad that its stock should be paid in full in cash, and
that the interests of the Government should be specially protected
by the appointment by the President of five Government Directors.
The Government bonds were to be handed over on the certificate
of an officer appointed by the President, as the road advanced
to completion. It was required that a Government Director
should be a member of every Committee, standing or select.
The managers of the Union Pacific Railroad acquired the franchise
of a Pennsylvania Company, known as the Credit Mobilier, divided
its stock among themselves in proportion to their ownership
in the Union Pacific Railroad, mortgaged the road to the extent
permitted by the act of Congress, being a little more than
$27,000,000 and mortgaged their land grants for a further
sum of $10,000,000. Then they made a contract with the Credit
Mobilier Company to construct the road at a price which would
exhaust all the resources of the road, including the proceeds
of the bonds of all kinds, and divided the proceeds among
themselves as dividends on the stock of the Credit Mobilier.
This left the Union Pacific Railroad to begin business mortgaged
to its full value, without any resources for its operation,
and utterly stripped of the ample endowment which the bounty
of the Government had provided for it.
Congress supposed when this munificent grant of land and loan
of credit was made it would create a great public highway
across the continent for the use of the Government and the
people, in war and peace, which should be a strong, solvent
corporation, ready for every emergency, and as secure for
the public use as New York Harbor, or as the Pacific Ocean.
The devisers of this scheme soon got to quarrelling among
themselves. One faction was made up largely of Boston capitalists,
and the other of men belonging in New York, New Jersey and
Connecticut. The former wanted to have the headquarters of
the corporation in Boston, with a Boston man for President;
and the latter desired to have the management in New York.
A suit in equity was brought, and the Boston men, headed by
Oakes Ames, a member of Congress, and his brother Oliver,
both eminent and highly respected business men of Massachusetts,
were enjoined from voting at a stockholders' meeting held
in New York for the election of officers. The injunction
was issued by Judge Barnard, who was afterward impeached,
and removed from office. On the day of the stockholders'
meeting General Butler, counsel for the Ames faction, found
Judge Barnard at lunch, and got him so to modify the injunction
as to permit that the votes might be cast, the result of the
election not to be declared until the further order of the
Court. The other faction who had rested with fancied security
under their injunction were taken by surprise.
The Ames ticket had a majority. Thereupon one of the other
faction wrote a letter to Elihu B. Washburn, at Washington.
He was an influential member of the House of Representatives,
known as the "Watch Dog of the Treasury." The letter was put
in the post-office. It exposed the whole transaction. He
then informed his opponents what he had done. They knew very
well that if Washburn moved an investigation by the House
of Representatives, which was likely, the game was up. No
further bonds would come from the United States Treasury.
Judicial proceedings would in all likelihood be taken at once
to annul the charter, or restrain further action under it.
They instantly came to terms. The two factions agreed on
a Board of Directors. The letter to Washington was withdrawn
from the mail. Oakes Ames received a quantity of the stock
of the Credit Mobilier, which he was to distribute among influential
members of Congress at par, "putting it," according to his
testimony given before a Committee afterward, "where it would
do the most good." A list of members of the two Houses was
agreed upon, to whom the stock should be offered. It was
expected that they would pay for it at par. But there had
been already a large dividend assigned to it, which with the
dividend expected to be paid shortly, would amount to much
more than the nominal par value of the stock. So the purchase
of one of the shares was like purchasing for $1,000 a bank
account which already amounted to, or shortly would amount
to, more than double that sum.
A list of the men who were to be induced to take this stock
was made out with wonderful and prophetic sagacity. It contained
some of the ablest and most influential men in the two Houses
of Congress, representing different parts of the country.
It included men as conspicuous for integrity as ability. Each
of them occupied already a great place in the respect of his
countrymen, and nearly every one of them attained a much greater
place afterward. This is the list of the members of Congress
to whom stock was to be conveyed:
LIST OF MEMBERS OF CONGRESS TO WHOM STOCK WAS TO BE
SOLD AGREED UPON IN NEW YORK, ENTERED IN OAKES
AMES'S MEMORANDUM BOOK, AND TAKEN BY
HIM TO WASHINGTON
James G. Blaine of Maine.
Senator James W. Patterson of New Hampshire.
Senator Henry Wilson of Massachusetts.
Schuyler Colfax of Indiana.
Thomas D. Eliot of Massachusetts.
Henry L. Dawes of Massachusetts.
George S. Boutwell of Massachusetts.
James A. Garfield of Ohio.
Glenni W. Schofield of Pennsylvania.
William D. Kelley of Pennsylvania.
Joseph F. Fowler of Tennessee.
John A. Bingham of Ohio.
Senator James A. Bayard of Delaware.
William B. Allison of Iowa.
James F. Wilson of Iowa.
Roscoe Conkling of New York.
James Brooks of New York.
John A. Logan of Illinois.
When Mr. Ames got to Washington he added the names of several
Senators to his list, some of whom took the stock.
It will be seen by an examination that men of great ability
and influence were very skilfully selected. Two of them
afterward became Vice-Presidents of the United States. One
of them became President of the United States. Another became
Secretary of the Treasury. Two others became Speakers of
the House. Five others were very prominent candidates for
the Presidency. Another was Chairman of the Judiciary Committee
of the House. Another became Chairman of the Committee on
Appropriations and subsequently of Ways and Means. Nine of
these gentlemen, then members of the House, were afterward
elected to the Senate.
Mr. Blaine, Mr. Eliot, Mr. Bayard, Mr. Conkling and Mr. Boutwell
refused absolutely to have anything to do with the transaction.
All the others were fully acquitted on investigation, by the
judgment of the House, of any corrupt purpose or any desire
to make money or get private advantage by reason of their
official influence, or of any expectation that they would
be likely to be called upon to take or refuse any action by
reason of their relation to these corporations. It was thought
that they had been careless in that they had not been put
on their guard by the fact that so large a dividend was to
be paid on the stock. In all cases the amounts received were
very small, in general not amounting to more than $1,000.
In two or three instances the people thought there was want
of candor or frankness in telling the full transaction to
the public, when the newspaper charges first made their appearance.
Henry Wilson never had any of the stock. But some of his
friends made a present of a small sum of money to Mrs. Wilson,
and the persons having the matter in charge invested a portion
of it in Credit Mobilier stock. As soon as Wilson heard of
it, he directed that the stock be reconveyed to the person
from whom it had been received, and gave his wife a small
sum of money to make up the difference of what turned out
to be the value of the stock and the value of the investment
which had been made in its place. There was no lack of the
most scrupulous integrity in the transaction. Wilson met
at a great public meeting Gen. Hawley, who was one of the
speakers. Hawley told Wilson on the platform just before
his speech that he understood that his name had been mentioned
in the papers as the owner of Credit Mobilier stock. Wilson
answered that he never had any of it. Thereupon Hawley in
his speech alluded to that matter and said he was authorized
by Mr. Wilson to say that he never owned any of the stock.
Mr. Wilson did not get up and say, No, I never owned any.
But my wife once had a present of a little money which was
invested in it, and as soon as I heard of it, I immediately
had it returned to the person from whom it came, and I made
up the loss to my wife myself. Such, however, was the public
excitement that his omission to do that was held in some quarters
as culpable want of frankness.
All the persons who received any of the stock and told the
story frankly at the investigation were acquitted of any
wrongdoing whatever, and never in the least suffered in esteem
in consequence.
But Schuyler Colfax and Senator Patterson of New Hampshire
were found by the Committee, and believed by the people to
have been disingenuous in their account of the transaction.
The Senate Committee of investigation reported a resolution
for the expulsion of Senator Patterson. The case was a very
hard one indeed for him. The Senate adjourned, and his term
expired without any action on the resolution, or any opportunity
to defend himself.
Schuyler Colfax was also held to have given an untruthful
story of the transaction. But the public attention was turned
from that by the discovery, in the investigation of his accounts
which the Committee made, that he had received large sums
of money from a person for whom he had obtained a lucrative
Government contract. But his term of office as Vice-President
expired before any action could be taken, and he died soon
after.
Mr. Ames, whose character as a shrewd and skilful investor
and manager of property stood deservedly high, recommended
to his friends the stock of the Credit Mobilier as a safe
investment, and one in his judgment very sure to prove profitable.
It has been often asked how the managers of the Credit Mobilier
could be guilty of bribing men when nobody was guilty of being
bribed. But the answer is easy. The managers of the Credit
Mobilier knew that they had violated the law, and that an
investigation would ruin their whole concern. The men who
received the stock were in ignorance of this fact. It was
as if the managers of a railroad whose route under State laws
is to be determined by a city council, or a board of selectmen
or some other public body, should induce the members of such
a board to take stock in their enterprise, intending afterward
to petition the body to which the subscribers belonged to
adopt a route very near land owned by them, which would much
increase its value, the receivers of the stock being ignorant
of their scheme. The person who should do that would be justly
chargeable with bribery, while the persons who received the
stock would be held totally innocent. That was the judgment
of the House of Representatives which acquitted the members
who had received the stock, but held Ames, who had conducted
the transaction, censurable. A large number of the members
voted for his expulsion. Ames was a successful business man.
He was regarded by his neighbors as a man of integrity. He
was generous and public spirited. But he and his associates
in the Union Pacific Railroad seemed, in this matter, to be
utterly destitute of any sense of public duty or comprehension
of the great purposes of Congress. They seemed to treat it
as a purely private transaction, out of which they might get
all the money they could, without any obligation to carry
out the act according to its spirit, or even according to
its letter, if they could only do so without being detected.
They seemed to have thought they were the sole owners of the
Union Pacific Railroad and of the Credit Mobilier corporation,
and that the transaction between the two concerned themselves
only and not the public. They treated it as if they were
transferring money from one pocket to another.
When Congress met in December, Mr. Blaine, the Speaker, who
had been one of the persons implicated by public rumor, although
in fact he had refused absolutely to have anything to do with
the transaction, left the Chair, and, calling Mr. Cox of
New York to his place, introduced a resolution calling for
an investigation of the affairs of the Union Pacific Railroad.
Two Committees were appointed. One, of which Judge Poland
was Chairman, undertook to deal with the charges against the
members of the House of Representatives. The other, of which
Jeremiah M. Wilson of Indiana was Chairman, was directed to
inquire into the entire management of the affairs of the Union
Pacific Railroad and the Credit Mobilier. I was a member
of this last Committee. A Committee was appointed also in
the Senate, with direction to inquire into the charges so
far as they affected Senators. The whole country was profoundly
excited by the affair.
I stood third on the Committee on which I was a member. It
was thought best that Mr. Wilson, the Chairman, who was a
very able and distinguished lawyer, should go to Boston where
the books of the Companies were kept, and make a searching
examination of their books and accounts. Mr. Shellabarger
of Ohio, the second member on the Committee, one of the ablest
lawyers in the House, was in poor health. He consented to
serve only on the condition that he should not be compelled
to do any duty requiring any considerable labor. So I had
to a large degree the charge of the investigation in Washington,
where the witnesses were examined, and in the end the duty
of preparing the report.
We did not deal in our report with the alleged misconduct
of the individual members of the House, but solely with the
two corporations. The report sets forth the transaction at
length, and contains the following summary of the Committee's
conclusions:
The purpose of the whole act was expressly declared to be
"to promote the public interest and welfare by the construction
of said railroad and telegraph line, and keeping the same
in working order, and to secure the Government at all times,
but particularly in time of war, the use and benefit of the
same for postal, military, and other purposes."
Your committee cannot doubt that it was the purpose of Congress
in all this to provide for something more than a mere gift
of so much land, and a loan of so many bonds on the one side,
and the construction and equipment of so many miles of railroad
and telegraph on the other.
The United States was not a mere creditor, loaning a sum of
money upon a mortgage. The railroad corporation was not a
mere contractor, bound to furnish a specified structure and
nothing more. The law created a body politic and corporate,
bound, as a trustee, so to manage this great public franchise
and endowment that not only the security for the great debts
due the United States should not be impaired, but so that
there should be ample resources to perform its great public
duties in time of commercial disaster and in time of war.
This act was not passed to further the personal interests
of the corporators, nor for the advancement of commercial
interests, nor for the convenience of the general public,
alone; but in addition to these the interests, present and
future, of the Government, as such, were to be subserved.
A great highway was to be created, the use of which for postal,
military, and other purposes was to be secured to the Government
"at all times," but particularly in time of war. Your committee
deem it important to call especial attention to this declared
object of this act, to accomplish which object the munificent
grant of lands and loan of the Government credit was made.
To make such a highway and to have it ready at "all times,"
and "particularly in time of war," to meet the demands that
might be made upon it; to be able to withstand the loss of
business and other casualties incident to war and still to
perform for the Government such reasonable service as might
under such circumstances be demanded, required a strong, solvent
corporation; and when Congress expressed the object and granted
the corporate powers to carry that object into execution,
and aided the enterprise with subsidies of lands and bonds,
the corporators in whom these powers were vested and under
whose control these subsidies were placed, were, in the opinion
of your committee, under the highest moral, to say nothing
of legal or equitable obligations, to use the utmost degree
of good faith toward the Government in the exercise of the
powers and disposition of the subsidies.
Congress relied for the performance of these great trusts
by the corporators upon their sense of public duty; upon
the fact that they were to deal with and protect a large
capital of their own which they were to pay in money; upon
the presence of five directors appointed by the President
especially to represent the public interests, who were to
own no stock; one of whom should be a member of every Committee,
standing or special; upon the commissioners to be appointed
by the President, who should examine and report upon the work
as it progressed; in certain cases upon the certificate of
the chief engineer, to be made upon his professional honor;
and lastly, upon the reserved power to add to, alter, amend,
or repeal the act.
Your committee find themselves constrained to report that
the moneys borrowed by the corporation, under a power given
them, only to meet the necessities of the construction and
endowment of the road, have been distributed in dividends
among the corporators; that the stock was issued, not to men
who paid for it at par in money, but who paid for it at not
more than thirty cents on the dollar in road making; that
of the Government directors some of them have neglected their
duties and others have been interested in the transactions
by which the provisions of the organic law have been evaded;
that at least one of the commissioners appointed by the President
has been directly bribed to betray his trust by the gift of
$25,000; that the chief engineer of the road was largely interested
in the contracts for its construction; and that there has
been an attempt to prevent the exercise of the reserved power
in Congress by inducing influential members of Congress to
become interested in the profits of the transaction. So that
of the safeguards above enumerated none seems to have been
left but the sense of public duty of the corporators.
The Judge Poland Committee investigated the conduct of the
members who were suspected and acquitted all but two. The
House accepted their decision. They recommended the expulsion
of Mr. Ames and of James Brooks, one of the Democratic members.
There were some special circumstances in the case of Brooks,
which it is not necessary to recite. Brooks died before a
vote on his case was taken. The House by a majority amended
the resolution reported by the Committee in the case of Mr.
Ames, and recommended a vote of censure, which was passed.
Ames felt the disgrace very keenly, and did not live very
long afterward.
These disclosures did much to bring about the uneasy condition
of the public mind which led to the Republican defeat in the
election of members of the House of Representatives in the
fall of 1874, and brought Tilden so near to an election in
1876.
But it may fairly, I think, be said for the majority of the
Republican Party in both houses of Congress, and the majority
of the Republican Party in the country, that they did their
very best to deal firmly and directly with any fraud or wrongdoing
that came to light, even if their own political associates
were the guilty parties. The political atmosphere has been
purified as compared with the condition of those days. The
lobbyist is not seen in the Committee Room or the Corridor
of the Capitol, as was the case when I entered Congress in
1869. I ought perhaps to say that I think the acquittal of
Belknap on the ground that the Senate has no jurisdiction
to render judgment against a civil officer on process of impeachment
after he has left office, was influenced by political feeling.
I do not think most of the Republican Senators who voted that
way would have so voted if the culprit had been a Democrat.
But there were many able lawyers who thought the opinion of
these Senators right.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE SANBORN CONTRACTS
The forty-second Congress, at its second session, repealed
all laws which provided for the payment of moieties, or commissions,
to informers, so far as related to internal revenue taxes.
But a provision was inserted by the Conference Committee,
which attracted no attention, providing that the Secretary
of the Treasury might employ not more than three persons to
assist the proper officers of the Government in discovering
and collecting any money belonging to the United States whenever
the same might be for the interest of the United States. The
Secretary was to determine the conditions of the contract,
and to pay no compensation except out of money received. No
person was to be employed who did not file a written statement,
under oath, stating the character of the claim under which
the money was withheld or due, and the name of the person
alleged to withhold the same.
Under this law John D. Sanborn of Massachusetts, an active
supporter of General Butler, applied for a contract which
he obtained on the 15th of July, 1872, for the collection
of taxes illegally withheld by thirty-nine distillers, rectifiers
and purchasers of whiskey. He was then himself an employee
of the Government as Special Agent for the Treasury Department.
Secretary Boutwell being then absent or otherwise unable to
attend to his duties, this contract was signed by Assistant
Secretary William A. Richardson. Sanborn had already been
employed to work up certain whiskey cases for which he had
been paid $3,000 by the Government, and these cases were included
in the foregoing contract.
On the 25th of October, 1872, Sanborn made application to
have added to his contract the names of 760 persons, alleged
to have withheld taxes imposed on legacies, successions and
incomes. An additional contract for that purpose was signed
by the Assistant Secretary Richardson. On the 19th of March,
1873, Sanborn applied to have the names of more than 2,000
other like persons added to his contract, which Mr. Richardson
permitted. On the 1st day of July, 1873, Sanborn again asked
to amend his contract, and Assistant Secretary Richardson
signed the contract by which the names of 592 railroad companies
were included. That was substantially a complete list of
the railroad companies of the country. Some of them had been
examined by Government officials before the day of the contract,
and the claims had been brought to light and found due. Sanborn
had no knowledge of any delinquency, except as to about 150
of them. When he so represented to the officers of the Treasury
Department he was told that it did not make any difference,
and to put them all in. Thereupon he took oath that they
were all delinquent, and had them added to the contract.
The form of this contract was taken, in part, from one prepared
by Secretary Boutwell, which he had carefully considered with
Mr. Kelsey, a subordinate in the Treasury, in June, 1872.
That prepared by Mr. Boutwell, if adhered to, would have amply
protected the Government. But it was departed from in essential
particulars. Under Secretary Boutwell's contract only a small
number of claims was included. Sanborn collected, in the
course of a year or two, $427,000, on which sum he received
50 per cent.
The unanimous report of the Committee of the House who investigated
the matter was written by Charles Foster of Ohio, afterward
Governor, and Secretary of the Treasury. The Committee comprised
the following gentlemen: Henry L. Dawes of Massachusetts;
W. D. Kelly of Pennsylvania; Horatio C. Burchard of Illinois;
Ellis H. Roberts of New York; John A. Kasson of Iowa; Henry
Waldron of Michigan; Lionel A. Sheldon of Louisiana; Charles
Foster of Ohio; James B. Beck of Kentucky; William E. Niblack
of Indiana; Fernando Wood of New York.
The Committee found that a large percentage of the $427,000
was not a proper subject for contract under the law, and that
it would have been collected by the Internal Revenue Bureau
in the ordinary discharge of its duty. The law provided that
the person with whom it was made should assist the Treasury
officials in discovering and collecting, so that the collections
were to be made by the Treasury. But the contract in fact
signed authorized Sanborn to make the collections, and required
the Treasury officials to assist him.
The Committee further called attention to the fact that the
law provided that no person should be employed who should
not have fully set forth in a written statement under oath
the character of the claim out of which he proposed to recover
or assist in recovering the moneys for the United States,
the laws by the violation of which the same had been withheld,
and the name of the person, firm or corporation having withheld
such moneys. This provision was disregarded utterly.
The Committee found that the Commissioner of Internal Revenue
was not consulted in the matter, nor was any official of his
Bureau, nor was he advised as to the making of the contracts
or of the character of the claims, although the proper officials
of the Government, referred to in the statute, could only
have been the officials of the Internal Revenue Bureau. It
was shown that the Commissioner of Internal Revenue wrote
a letter protesting against the manner of these collections
to the Secretary of the Treasury, which was never answered.
The Committee found that the Commissioner was studiously ignored
by the Secretary of the Treasury and the officials in his
office.
The wicked and fraudulent character of the transactions is
shown in the report.
When the Committee made their report the matter was debated
in the House of Representatives by Governor Foster and other
gentlemen who had taken part in the investigation. All these
Sanborn transactions were with the Assistant Secretary in
Mr. Boutwell's absence, until later Mr. Richardson became
Secretary of the Treasury. The Committee unanimously agreed
to report a resolution that the House had no confidence in
the Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. Richardson, and demanded
his removal. President Grant was notified of this conclusion.
He sent for the members of the Committee and personally urged
them to withhold the resolution, and offered that the Secretary
should resign, and that he should be provided for in some
other department of the public service. To this the Committee
agreed. It was never thought that the Secretary himself profited
corruptly by the transaction, but only that he had suffered
himself to be hoodwinked. It was unfortunate that nearly
all the persons who were connected with this transaction were
from New England, most of them from Massachusetts, and several
of them from Lowell.
CHAPTER XXIV
BENJAMIN F. BUTLER
No person can adequately comprehend the political history
of Massachusetts for the thirty-five years beginning with
1850 without a knowledge of the character, career and behavior
of Benjamin F. Butler. It is of course disagreeable and in
most cases it would seem unmanly to speak harshly of a political
antagonist who is dead. In the presence of the great reconciler,
Death, ordinary human contentions and angers should be hushed.
But if there be such a thing in the universe as a moral law,
if the distinction between right and wrong be other than fancy
or a dream, the difference between General Butler and the
men who contended with him belongs not to this life alone.
It relates to matters more permanent than human life. It
enters into the fate of republics, and will endure after the
fashion of this world passeth away.
I cannot tell the story of my life at a most important period
without putting on record my estimate of him, and the nature
of his influence over the youth of the Commonwealth. Besides,
it is to be remembered that he took special pains to write
and to leave behind him a book in which he gave his own account
of the great controversies in which he engaged, and bitterly
attacked some of the men who thwarted his ambitions. This
book he sent to public libraries, including that of the British
Museum, where he had good reason to expect it would be permanently
preserved.
I shall say nothing of him which I did not say in public
speeches or published letters while he was living and in the
fulness of his strength, activity and power. History deals
with Benedict Arnold, with Aaron Burr, with the evil counsellors
of Charles I. and Charles II., with Robespierre, with Barere
and with Catiline, upon their merits, and draws from their
lives examples, or warnings, without considering the fact
that they are dead. This especially is a duty to be performed
fearlessly, though with due caution, when it is proposed in
some quarters to erect monuments of statues to such men for
the admiration of the youth of future generations.
Benjamin F. Butler was born November 5, 1818. He was graduated
at Waterville College, now Colby University, in the year 1838.
He began the practice of law in Lowell. Compared with other
men of equal ability and distinction, he was never a very
successful advocate. Quiet and modest men who had the confidence
of the courts and juries used to win verdicts from him in
fairly even cases. He was fertile in resources. He liked
audacious surprises. He was seldom content to try a simple
case in a simple way. So that while he succeeded in some
desperate cases, he threw away a good many which with wise
management he might have gained.
Butler's practice in the beginning was chiefly in the defence
of criminals, or in civil cases where persons of that class
were parties. There was very likely to be a dramatic scene
in court when he was for the defence. His method of defence
was frequently almost as objectionable as the crime he was
defending. He attacked the character of honest witnesses,
and of respectable persons, victims of his guilty clients,
who were seeking the remedy of the law. He had many ingenious
fashions of confusing or browbeating witnesses, and sometimes
of misleading juries. He once asked a medical expert who
undertook to testify about human anatomy, in a case of physical
injury, this question: "State the origin and insertion of
all the muscles of the forearm and hand from the elbow to
the tips of the fingers"; and another, "Give a list of the
names and the positions of all the bones in the body." This
was something like asking a man who claimed to know the English
language to give off hand all the words of the English language
beginning with a. But it confused a worthy and respectable
country doctor, and misled the jury. The best citizen of
a country village, or his wife or daughter, who had to testify
against a thief or burglar who had broken into a house had
to encounter his ruffianly treatment on the witness stand.
So Butler became a terror, not to evil-doers but to the opponents
of evil-doers throughout the county of Middlesex. Few lawyers
liked to encounter his rough speech and his ugly personalities.
He was a Democrat in politics and became quite popular with
the poorer class of foreign immigrants who gathered in manufacturing
towns and cities like Lowell. He had at first little success
in politics for the reason that his party was a small minority
in Massachusetts. He was elected to the House of Representatives
for the Legislature of 1853. During that session there was
a memorable struggle on the part of the Whigs to repeal so
much of the act providing for an election of delegates to
a Constitutional convention as required the election to be
by secret ballot. There was also, as an incident of this
struggle, an angry contest in the joint convention of the
two Houses held for the purpose of electing some officers
required by the Constitution to be chosen by joint ballot.
The dispute related to the extent of the authority of the
President of the Senate, as presiding officer, to control
the joint assembly. Butler was conspicuous in that scene
of turbulence and disorder. On the occasion of some ruling
by the Whig Speaker, Mr. George Bliss, a worthy and respectable
old gentleman, Butler called out in a loud voice: "I should
like to knife that old cuss." That utterance was quoted not
only all over the Union, but in foreign countries, in England,
and on the continent, and in the West Indies, as a proof of
the degradation and licentiousness of popular governments.
It is a singular fact that a like question as to the authority
of the presiding officer of a joint convention of two legislative
bodies came up in Congress when the electoral vote was counted,
at the time of the election of General Grant in 1868. Butler
repeated on a larger stage his disorderly conduct, until
Schuyler Colfax, Speaker of the House--although Mr. Wade,
President of the Senate, was then presiding over the joint
convention--resumed the chair of the House, in order, as Mr.
Blaine described it afterward, "to chastise the insolence
of the member from Massachusetts."
He was chosen in 1860, when the Democratic Party was divided
between the supporters of Douglas and the supporters of Breckenridge,
a delegate to the National Convention at Charleston, South
Carolina, by the Douglas Democrats of Massachusetts, under
instructions to vote for Douglas. Instead, he voted thirty-
seven times for Jefferson Davis. There has been but one other
instance, I believe, in the history of Massachusetts of such
a betrayal of trust. That other related not to candidates
but to principles.
Under our political arrangements the presidential elector
is but a scribe. He exercises no discretion, but only records
the will of the people who elect him. The real selection of
the president is made by the nominating conventions. The
nominee of the party having a majority becomes the president.
A breach of trust by a delegate to a nominating convention
is an act of dishonor of the same class with that to which
no presidential elector in the United States has yet stooped--
a breach of trust by an elector.
General Butler's career upon the national stage began with
the episode at Charleston. From that time until his death
he was a very conspicuous figure in the eyes of the whole
country. There are two or three public services for which
he deserves credit. They ought not to be omitted in any fair
sketch of his life and character.
First. When, in the earlier days of the Rebellion, there
was a doubt whether the Democratic Party would rally to the
support of the country, he promptly offered his services.
His example was of great importance in determining the question
whether the war of sections was also to be a war of parties.
He had a large clientage, especially among that class of Irish
Americans who were apt in Massachusetts to vote with the Democratic
Party. His conduct so far was in honorable contrast with
that of some of his influential political associates, and
that of some of the old Whigs who never got over their chagrin
at the success of the Republican Party.
Second. When the question what would be the treatment of
the negroes by the commanders of the Union army was doubtful,
and when many persons wished to conciliate the old slaveholders
in the border states by disclaiming any purpose of meddling
with the institution of slavery, General Butler made a bright
and important contribution to the discussion by declaring
the negro "contraband of war." I do not know whether this
phrase was original with him or no. It has been claimed that
he borrowed it. But he undoubtedly made it famous. This
tended somewhat to obliterate the effect of the shock caused
to the lovers of liberty by his offer to the Governor of Maryland
on the day his regiment landed at Annapolis, of his own services
and those of the forces under his command, to put down any
slave insurrection, in case the negro people should attempt
to assert their heaven-born rights.
Governor Andrew wrote to General Butler censuring his offer
of the use of the Massachusetts troops, as the first operation
of the war, to improve the security of rebels that they might
prosecute with more energy their attacks upon the Federal
government. The Governor adds: "I can perceive no reason
of military policy why a force summoned to the defence of
the Federal Government, at this moment of all others, should
be offered or diverted from its immediate duty to help rebels,
who stand with arms in their hands, in obstructing its progress
toward the city of Washington." General Butler answered that
"if the contest were to be prosecuted by letting loose the
slaves, some instrument other than myself must be found to
carry it on." He had been, with a large part of his party,
an advocate and supporter of the Fugitive Slave Law, in the
days before the war.
Third. He governed the rebel city of New Orleans with great
vigor. He understood how to deal with a turbulent and ugly
populace. He was not imposed upon by shams or pretences,
and treated the old Southern Democracy with little respect.
It is probable that his vigorous remedy saved the city from
yellow fever.
Fourth. Another thing should be added to his credit, not
of moral quality, but of that quality which accounts largely
and naturally for his influence with the people. He had a
gift of clear, racy and simple speech. He could convey his
thought to the apprehension of common men without any loss
in the process. His style was of the same class with that
of William Cobbett and Horace Greeley, without ornament,
not very copious, but simple, clear and vigorous. When these
things have been said, nothing remains to be said in his favor.
He had a ready, though rough and coarse wit, suited to the
tastes of illiterate audiences and to that class of men who
are always delighted when anything is said in disparagement
of anybody. I recall two or three examples. He was rather
fond of appropriating the bright sayings of others, whether
jesting or serious, and claiming credit for them. But he
also had a capacity of his own for such things.
I heard him argue a case involving the constitutionality
of the bill to annex Charlestown to Boston, before the Supreme
Court of Massachusetts. He was interrupted by the Mayor,
who was on the other side, a fussy and self-important little
person. Butler made the point that the meetings at which
the citizens had voted for annexation had not been legal,
the notice being not sufficient. The Mayor, who had said
it was the practice in Charlestown to hold public meetings
on a notice not longer than the one in question. He added:
"We only gave a week's notice for our election of Mayor."
Butler looked at him a moment, and said: "I should think
they got up their Mayor on short notice."
His thrust at S. S. Cox in the House of Representatives attracted
the attention of the country. It was in a five-minute debate.
Cox had attacked Butler savagely. Butler replied, taking
up nearly the whole five minutes with arguing the question
before the House, taking no notice of Cox till just he was
about to finish. He then said: "There is no need for me
to answer the gentleman from New York. Every negro minstrel
just now is singing the answer, and the hand organs are playing
the tune, 'Shoo Fly, don't bodder me.'"
In the Constitutional Convention of Massachusetts twenty-
seven different schemes for a system of representation were
pressed. Somebody moved to refer them all to a committee
to consist of the persons who had proposed the schemes. "As
well refer twenty-seven babies to their twenty-seven mothers
to decide which is the prettiest," exclaimed Butler.
His military career was, with the exception I have stated,
disgraceful to himself and unfortunate to the country. From
the beginning of Butler's recruiting for the war, wherever
he was in command came rumors of jobs, frauds, trading with
the rebels through the lines, and the putting of unfit persons
in responsible positions. The scandal became so great that
Governor Andrew--than whom there was never a truer, nobler,
braver or more upright man in the executive chair of any State
in this country--was compelled to put on public record his
indignant denunciation. He said in a letter to Charles Sumner
and Henry Wilson, Senators in Congress, December 21, 1861:
"I am compelled to declare with great reluctance and regret,
that the course of proceeding under Major-General Butler in
this Commonwealth seems to have been designed and adapted
simply to afford means to persons of bad character to make
money unscrupulously, and to encourage men whose unfitness
had excluded them from any appointment by me to the volunteer
militia service, to hope for such appointment over Massachusetts
troops from other authority than that of the Executive himself."*
[Footnote]
* Schouler's "Massachusetts in the War," Vol. I., p. 276.
[End of Footnote]
The first considerable military operation of which he took
charge was a movement upon the rebel forces at Big Bethel.
It was rash, unskiful, blundering and lacking both in perseverance
and courage. His troops were repulsed with great and needless
slaughter.
It is a doubtful and debated question whether General Butler
was personally to blame for this terrible and disgraceful
repulse. If it were only his misfortune, it is a sample of
the misfortunes which attended him throughout the war. It
would not have happened to a great or even a fairly good general
officer. The best that can be said for him is that if he
were without personal blame, that it is the chief incident
of a campaign which he went through without credit.
But the worst example of timidity and inefficiency in American
military history, not excepting Hull's surrender, was the
attempt and repulse at Fort Fisher. I do not mean when I
say timidity, personal cowardice. But I mean the fear of
the ordinary risks which accompany every bold and successful
operation in war. This timidity is not infrequently, as it
was in this case, characteristic of men who thrust themselves
into places for which they are not fit.
It was highly important to capture Wilmington, of which Fort
Fisher was the key. It was the last remaining gateway for
the admission of necessary supplies and ammunitions of war
to the rebellious States from the outer world. It was a military
position of great importance, a chief centre of the rebellion,
and a great object in our military operations. General Butler
entered upon this undertaking with every advantage. He had
special detailed instructions from Grant, the greatest living
military commander; and he had under him and to cooperate
with him Admiral Porter who, with one possible exception,
was the ablest naval commander in our service.
Wilmington was stripped of troops. The fort was garrisoned
by four companies of infantry and one light battery. With
all the reinforcements which the enemy could muster but a
thousand and seventy-seven men were in the fort. The greatest
armada ever in American waters was under Butler's command--
fifty vessels, thirty-three for attack and seventeen in reserve,
including four iron-clads. The iron-clads opened fire upon
the fort, throwing one hundred and fifteen shells a minute.
"Fort Fisher replied at once with all its guns. But those
on the northeast face were silenced almost as soon as the
monitors opened their terrific fire, and by the time the last
of the large vessels had anchored and got their batteries into
play, only one or two of the enemy's guns were able to reply.
The shower of shells had driven the gunners to the bomb-proofs.
In one hour and fifteen minutes after the first gun was fired,
not a shot came from the fort. Two magazines had been blown
up, and the fort set on fire in several places. Such a torrent
of missiles was falling and bursting that it was impossible
for anything human to stand."*
[Footnote]
* Badeau's "Military History of General Grant," Vol. 3, p. 314.
[End of Footnote]
In this condition of things General Butler arrived upon the
scene. Not a soldier had been hurt on the Union side.
"General Curtis was now within fifty yards of the fort, and
sent word to General Ames that he could take the work, whereupon
Ames, not knowing Butler's determination, gave orders for
an assault. Curtis at once moved forward, but by the time
he reached his position, night had come on, and the fleet
had nearly ceased its fire .... At this juncture Butler's
orders to reembark arrived, and no assault was made. Curtis
and the officers with him, declared that the fort could have
been carried; that at the moment they were recalled, they
virtually had possession, having actually approached so close
that a rebel flag had been snatched from the parapet and a
horse brought away from the inside stockade.
"That night Butler informed the Admiral that he and Weitzel
were of the opinion that the place could not be carried by
assault .... I shall therefore sail, he said, for Hampton
Roads as soon as the transport fleet can be got in order."*
[Footnote]
* Ibid., p. 317.
[End of Footnote]
"Porter replied that he could fire much faster than he had
been doing, and would keep the enemy from showing himself
until our men were within twenty yards of the fort, and he
begged that Butler would leave some brave fellows like those
who had snatched the flag from the parapet and taken the horse
from the fort."
Butler was unchangeable. He got all his troops aboard, except
Curtis's brigade, and started back. In doing this Butler
made a fearful mistake. "My instructions to the officer who
went in command of the expedition," says General Grant, "were
explicit in the statement that to effect a landing would be
of itself a great victory, and if one should be effected,
the foothold must not be relinquished; on the contrary, a
regular siege of the fort must be commenced and, to guard
against interference by reason of storms, supplies of provisions
must be laid in as soon as they could be got on shore. But
Butler seems to have lost sight of this part of his instructions,
and was back at Fort Monroe on the 28th."*
[Footnote]
* Grant's "Memoirs," Vol. II., p. 394.
[End of Footnote]
The Admiral, however, was of a different mind from Butler
and replied to him: "I have ordered the largest vessels
to proceed off Beaufort, and fill up with ammunition, to be
ready for another attack, in case it is decided to proceed
with this matter by making other arrangements. We have not
commenced firing rapidly yet, and could keep any rebels inside
from showing their heads, until an assaulting column was within
twenty yards of the works. I wish some more young gallant
fellows had followed the officer who took the flag from the
parapet, and the brave fellow who brought the horse from the
fort. I think they would have found it an easier conquest
than is supposed."*
[Footnote]
* Ibid., Badeau, p. 318.
[End of Footnote]
"The Wilmington expedition has proven a gross and culpable
failure. Many of the troops are back here. Delays and free
talk of the object of the expedition enabled the enemy to
move troops to Wilmington to defeat it. After the expedition
started from Fort Monroe, three days of fine weather were
squandered, during which the enemy was without a force to
protect himself. Who is to blame, will, I hope, be known."*
[Footnote]
* Ibid., p. 318.
[End of Footnote]
Grant's statement, just quoted, was made when he had heard
Butler's side of the story alone. What he thought when he
had heard the whole story will appear a little later.
Admiral Porter said, in his official dispatch: "My dispatch
of yesterday will give you an account of the operations,
but will scarcely give you an idea of my disappointment at
the conduct of the army authorities in not attempting to take
possession of the fort . . . . Had the army made a show of surrounding
it, it would have been ours; but nothing of the kind was done.
The men landed, reconnoitred, and, hearing that the enemy
were massing troops somewhere, the orders were given to reembark
. . . . There never was a fort that invited soldiers to walk
in and take possession more plainly than Fort Fisher . . . .
It can be taken at any moment in one hour's time if the right
man is sent with the troops."
On the 30th of December Grant sent this message to Porter:
"Please hold on wherever you are for a few days, and I will
endeavor to be back again, with an increased force, _and without
the former commander."_
Grant at once took measures for renewing the attack and for
changing the commander. On the 31st of December the Secretary
of the Navy telegraphs to Porter: "Lieutenant-General Grant
will send immediately a competent force, _properly commanded,_
to cooperate in the capture of the defences of Federal Point."
So in every instance in which the head of the military or
naval department of this country issued an order to cooperate
in this expedition he found it necessary to assure the officer
to whom he gave his orders that the expedition would be properly
commanded. The Secretary adds in his dispatch to Admiral
Porter: "The Department is perfectly satisfied with your
efforts thus far." On the next day Porter writes to General
Grant: "I have just received yours of December 30th. I shall
be all ready; and thank God we are not to leave here with
so easy a victory at hand. Thank you for so promptly trying
to rectify the blunder so lately committed. I knew you would
do it." He adds, speaking of the late expedition: "We lost
one man killed. You may judge what a simple business it was."
On the 2d of January Grant directs that Terry, who is to
command this new expedition, be sent to City Point to see
him. "I cannot go myself," he adds to the Secretary of War,
"so long as Butler would be left in command."
January 4th, the next day but one, Grant asks for the removal
of Butler. He says: "I am constrained to request the removal
of Major-General Butler from the command of the department
of Virginia and North Carolina. I do this with reluctance,
but the good of the service requires it. In my absence General
Butler necessarily commands, and there is a lack of confidence
felt in his military ability, making him an unsafe commander
for a large army. His administration of the affairs of his
department is also objectionable."
Stanton had just left the capital on a visit to Sherman,
at Savannah, and this letter at first received no answer; but
Grant was very much in earnest, and on the sixth he telegraphed
direct to the President: "I wrote a letter to the Secretary
of War, which was mailed yesterday, asking to have General
Butler removed from command. Learning that the Secretary
left Washington yesterday, I telegraph you asking that prompt
action be taken in this matter."
That was practically the end of Butler's military service.
He never received another command.
There is no country in the world, other than ours, where
an officer guilty of such conduct, whether it came from incapacity
or cowardice, would not have been promptly cashiered and probably
shot. This would have been true, as in the case of Admiral
Keppel, if his fault had been merely a failure to attack.
But Butler's fault was an express disobedience of orders.
The order which he disobeyed was unknown to the subordinate
on whose advice he claimed to have relied. General Grant
expressly ordered him that in case of failure to attack the
fort by assault, he should remain and entrench his troops
on the peninsula, and cooperate with the fleet for the reduction
of the place. When Grant learned the circumstances he declared
that, in leaving after he had landed, Butler had violated
his express orders.
It is a source of just pride that a New England commander,
and one of Massachusetts descent, General Terry, was successful
in the new attempt. Grant's instructions to him said: "I
have served with Admiral Porter, and know that you can rely
on his judgment and his nerve to undertake what he proposes
. . . . The first object to be attained is to get a firm position
on the spit of land on which Fort Fisher is built, from which
you can operate against the fort. You want to look to the
practicability of receiving your supplies, and to defending
yourself against superior forces sent against you by any of
the avenues left open to the enemy. If such a position can
be obtained, the siege of Fort Fisher will not be abandoned
until its reduction can be accomplished, or another plan of
campaign is ordered from these headquarters."
The fort which had enabled 397 vessels to pass the blockade
was taken by a great New England Captain, and largely by New
England troops. Butler made one contribution, and only one,
to that victory. That contribution was his absence. It was
a curious coincidence which would have brought a blush of
shame upon any forehead but his, that when he was testifying
before an investigating committee of Congress, who were inquiring
into the cause of his great and shameful failure to take the
fort, and just after he had testified that Fort Fisher was
impregnable and that it was impossible for any Union force
to take it, a dispatch was received in the Committee Room
announcing its fall.
General Grant says in his "Memoirs":
"I had no idea of General Butler accompanying the expedition
until the evening before it got off from Bermuda Hundred,
and then did not dream but that General Weitzel had received
all the instructions, and would be in command. I rather formed
the idea that General Butler was actuated by a desire to witness
the effect of the explosion of the powder-boat. The expedition
was detained several days at Hampton Roads, waiting the loading
of the powder-boat. The importance of getting the Wilmington
expedition off without any delay, with or without the powder-
boat, had been urged upon General Butler. The powder-boat
was exploded on the morning of the 24th, before the return
of General Butler from Beaufort; but it would seem, from the
notice taken of it in the Southern newspapers, that he enemy
were never enlightened as to the object of the explosion until
they were informed by the Northern press."*
[Footnote]
* "Personal Memoirs, U. S. Grant," p. 604 appendix.
[End of Footnote]
"General Butler, in direct violation of the instructions
given, ordered the reembarkation of the troops and the return
of the expedition."*
[Footnote]
* Ibid., p. 605.
[End of Footnote]
"I advised Admiral Porter to hold on, and that I would send
a force and make another attempt to take the place. This
time I selected Major-General A. H. Terry to command the expedition."
"At my request Major-General B. F. Butler was relieved."*
[Footnote]
* Ibid., p. 607.
[End of Footnote]
I will not undertake to give a detailed account of the blundering
strategy of what General Grant aptly called the "Bottling
up at Bermuda Hundred" which enabled a powerful Union army
to be held in check by a small Confederate force, leaving
free the bulk of their army for hostile operations against
the Union forces.
So the contribution of General Butler's military genius to
the success of the United States in the war consisted of
a scheme to blow up a powder-boat in the capture of Fort
Fisher, somewhat after the Chinese fashion of warfare, which
General Grant said hardly had the effect to excite the curiosity
of the occupants of the fort which it had been intended to
demolish; and of his scheme of engineering at Dutch Gap and
Bermuda Hundred.
General Grant got tired of him at last and ordered him to
report at Lowell. So ended the military career of incompetence,
boasting and failure.
Massachusetts soldiers from those of the humblest origin
to those who came from the most cultivated circles have always
had the reputation of gentlemen. I know of but one conspicuous
exception in her entire military history. During the trial
of Andrew Johnson, Butler, who was one of the managers, employed
spies to visit, in his absence, the room of William M. Evarts,
counsel for the President, and to search his waste basket
in the hope of spying upon his correspondence. Of this he
shamelessly afterward boasted. Later he employed dishonest
persons to get from the wires the private telegraphic dispatches
of Henry L. Pierce, then his colleague in the House of Representatives,
sent to the Hon. W. W. Rice at Worcester.
But this is not all. Wherever Butler is found in military
command there were constant rumors of the same story which
Governor Andrew told in the beginning. It is like the ointment
of the hand which bewrayeth itself. Jobs, fraudulent contracts,
trading through the lines, relatives enriched by public plunder,
corrupt understanding with the enemy. These stories pursued
him to New Orleans and from New Orleans back to Lowell. Is
there another Union General, at least was there ever another
Massachusetts General to whose integrity such suspicion attached?
He scarcely undertook to discuss the matter himself. After
the war a New Orleans bank, on which Butler had made a requisition
for eighty thousand dollars in gold, employed the late Edwards
Pierpont to bring an action against General Butler on the
ground that the money had never been paid over to the Government,
but that he had kept it himself. Butler saw the counsel for
the plaintiffs and said he had received the money in an official
capacity and had paid it over to the United States. Mr. Pierpont
answered: "If you will show that, it will constitute a good
defence." In the course of the conversation Pierpont said:
"Your neighbors in Lowell will not think very well of it when
they see you riding in your carriage through the streets,
and know it was paid for out of the money you have taken unlawfully
from this bank." Before the time came for the trial Butler
surrendered and paid over the money. After the matter was
settled he said to Mr. Pierpont: "Well, you beat me. But
I want to tell you that you made one mistake. You said the
people of Lowell would not think very highly of me when they
saw me riding through the streets in my carriage and knew
it was paid for by the money of this bank. The people would
think I was a fool for not having taken twice as much."
General Butler was appointed treasurer of the National Soldiers'
Home. He mingled the money of that institution with his own,
got the use of it, got interest upon it, for which he never
accounted. An attempt was made to investigate his accounts
and he refused on the ground that he could not do it without
showing his private account books, which he was not compelled
to do.
He had a powerful political influence which made him an object
of terror to timid and ambitious men. So, much to the shame
of our public authorities, the investigation was not pressed.
He was allowed to pay over only such sum as he himself admitted
to be due.
General Butler's chief title to distinction in political life
was a scheme which Massachusetts has pronounced a scheme
of dishonesty and infamy in every method by which her sentiment
can be made known. This scheme was to pay off the national
debt and all other debts public and private, including all
widows' and soldiers' pensions, in irredeemable paper money.
He proposed to issue a series of government bonds bearing
interest, payable like the principal, in greenbacks, and providing
that the greenbacks should never be redeemed, but that the
holder might at any time, on demand, get from the Treasury
the equivalent in bonds. This scheme had been announced by
General Butler for several years before the Presidential election
of 1876. In that year General Butler, who had been defeated
for reelection to Congress from the Essex district in 1874,
was a candidate for the Republican nomination in the Middlesex
district, which included his home in Lowell. There was much
opposition to him. But the party feeling was very strong
and no other person of large enough reputation or of conspicuous
ability could be found to take the Republican nomination.
General Butler was accordingly nominated with the distinct
promise on his part that he would surrender his plans in regard
to finance out of deference to the known wishes of his constituents,
and would act with the Republican Party upon financial questions.
To this pledge he owed, if not his nomination and election,
certainly his great majority in the convention and at the
polls. This pledge, as in the case of the trust which had
been committed to him by the Douglas Democrats before the
war, he most unblushingly and shamelessly violated. He renewed
and advocated his fiat money scheme. The result was that
at the next convention of the Republican Party in his district
the following resolution was passed, without a dissenting
vote:
_"Resolved,_ That we warn the people of the Commonwealth,
whose votes General Butler is now soliciting by promises to
serve them faithfully, that his professions when seeking office
have been found in our experience to be easily made and as
easily repudiated when the time for redeeming them came.
"That they are neither gold nor good paper, but are a kind
of fiat currency, having no intrinsic character, being cheap,
delusive, irredeemable and worthless."
This convention represented a large and overwhelming majority
of the people of the Middlesex district. It was made up as
such conventions in Massachusetts always are made up, of men
of high standing and character and of great personal worth.
Can there be found in the history of Massachusetts such a
record of shameless dishonor and such a terrible indictment
and conviction?
A like judgment was expressed a little later by Mr. Edward
Avery, a Democrat of high standing, who declared that the
Democratic Party had found his promises and pledges could
not be trusted.
He was once elected Governor. It so chanced that the Republican
Party had been disappointed by the defeat in their State Convention
of Mr. Crapo, a gentleman of the highest standing, who had
rendered conspicuous service to his country in the National
House of Representatives, and who was doubtless the choice
of a majority of his party. His successful competitor was
a man of much personal worth and highly esteemed. But it
was thought that his nomination had been compassed by skilful
political management by which the will of the people had been
baffled and defeated, and many Republicans declined to vote.
There was a certain curiosity, as many men expressed it, to
see what Butler would do and to test his professions of reform,
with a feeling that he would be quite harmless with a Republican
Legislature and Council. So the experiment was tried. The
people of the Commonwealth had no desire to try it a second
time. The matter of General Butler's title to public respect,
if the rest of his record could be erased as by a wet sponge,
might be determined by the experience of a single year. There
was never such an exhibition as that made by him in the executive
chair of Massachusetts. He proceeded to attack, to promote
his own ambitions, the fair name and fame of the Commonwealth
itself. One of his speeches was so gross in its nature that
the principal Democratic paper of Boston refused to print
it, declaring it unfit for publication.
General Butler declared in one of his public speeches when
a candidate for Governor, thereby insulting the Commonwealth,
especially the citizen-soldiery of Massachusetts, that the
soldiers of Massachusetts "needed but a word from him to clean
out the State House."
But he had his eye on a still higher prize. He hoped to
compass the Democratic nomination for the Presidency. That
nomination depended on his conciliating the old Democratic,
rebel element at the South, then powerful in National Democratic
councils. He made an attack upon the administration of the
State Almshouse at Tewksbury, in which he declared that "the
selling and tanning of human skins was an established industry
in Massachusetts." He charged the Commonwealth with desecrating
the graves and selling the bodies of deceased inmates of her
public institutions for money. General Butler's charges were
refuted to the public satisfaction by the simple certificate
of Mrs. Clara Leonard, a member of the State Board of Lunacy
and Charities, who knew all about the matter, and in whose
high integrity and capacity to decide the question everybody
had implicit confidence.
There was an investigation, and Butler signally failed to
sustain himself. One incident at the hearing revealed perfectly
his character and that of his affected sympathy for downtrodden
humanity. Some human remains were brought into the presence
of the committee, which it was alleged had come from the almshouse.
Butler was in an angry mood at something that had occurred
and called out peremptorily: "Give me the skin that came off
the nigger."
I will not undertake myself to impute the motive which inspired
this attack upon his own State. Whether it were anger inspired
by the knowledge of the estimate in which the majority of
her people held him; whether it were a gross nature with blunted
sensibilities; whether these expressions were uttered in haste
or anger, I will not say. The Honorable William P. Frye,
an able and justly distinguished Representative and Senator
from Maine, with an intimate knowledge of General Butler,
which came from a long association in the public service,
charged General Butler in a public speech in Massachusetts,
in the autumn of 1883, in my hearing, what he repeated at
many places elsewhere in the Commonwealth--that Butler had
made this foul charge against Massachusetts in order that
he might win the favor of the slave-holding and rebel Democratic
elements of the South by catering to their prejudices against
her. If that be true, this charge of General Butler's is
the most disgraceful single utterance that ever came from
American lips. If it be not true, what must be the nature
of which the gentle, charitable and kindly Senator Frye could
believe it true after an intimate knowledge so many years?
General Butler was disappointed in his expectation of Democratic
support in the country at large. He had thereafter no rest
in politics for the sole of his foot. The remainder of his
life was spent in speculation and manufacturing enterprises.
I repeat what I said of General Butler in his lifetime, when
he was at the height of his power, with a full knowledge
of his vindictive character, that the success of his attempt
to use and consolidate the political forces of Massachusetts
would have been the corruption of her youth, the destruction
of everything valuable in her character, and the establishment
at the mouth of the Charles River of another New York with
its frauds, Tweed rings and scandals.
General Butler made an earnest effort to get the Republican
nomination for Governor in 1871. He had built up what was
called a Butler party, in which he had had the aid of the
National Administration, and of all persons whom he could
either seduce by hope of reward or terrify by fear of his
vengeance. It was not a question in considering candidacy
for office with him whether the man had rendered honest service
in civil or in military life, whether he was a man of honor
or of good or bad character, but only whether he was a Butler
man. He conducted his own campaign for Governor in 1871 and
again in 1873. In the former he summoned his adherents to
the State Convention, issuing a circular in which he advised
them to bring three days' rations in the expectation of a
long and angry struggle.
I was invited by the State Central Committee to preside at
the Convention of 1871. It was quite likely that the Convention
might break up in disorder and the result would be two factions,
each claiming to be the regular Republican organization. I
told the gentlemen of the State Central Committee, who communicated
to me their desire, that I would do it on condition that there
should be provided one hundred skilled and trustworthy police
officers who would obey my orders, and, if it became necessary,
would remove from the hall General Butler or any other person
who should defy the authority of the Convention. This the
committee promised to do. This promise was in substance kept.
The gentleman who made it as the organ of the State Central
Committee had himself been for many years a sheriff of the
County of Worcester, and had been a General in the Civil
War, and was a man of large capacity for handling disorderly
assemblies. He came to me afterward and said that in a hall
like Mechanics Hall a well-disciplined force of not more than
fifty men would be better for the purpose of keeping order
than a more numerous one, and he had taken the liberty of
departing from our agreement to that extent. To this I assented.
When I went to the Hall that morning in taking leave of my
wife I told her that the chances were that I should come
home the most disgraced man in Massachusetts. If General
Butler succeeded in breaking up the Convention in disorder
the blame would be laid upon the presiding officer.
But we got through safely. General Butler had calculated
that his opponents, who were divided among several candidates,
could not agree upon any one. But such an agreement was effected
upon William B. Washburn. His plan then, I supposed, was
to find some excuse for breaking up the Convention under circumstances
which would enable him to claim to President Grant that he
represented the regular Republican organization and that his
opponents were the bolters. My duty on the other hand was
so to conduct the Convention that there should be no pretext
on his part for such a course. The Convention was in continuous
session from 11 o'clock in the forenoon until half-past one
next morning. There were several contests in which Butler
conducted the case on his own side. But his opponents held
together and nominated William B. Washburn. With the exception
of the National Convention of 1880, at which I also presided,
this was the most difficult duty in the way of presiding over
a deliberative assembly which ever fell upon any person in
this country so far as I know.
In the year 1873 General Butler made another attempt to get
the Republican nomination for Governor. A meeting was called
at Hamilton Hall, in Boston, of a few persons opposed to his
candidacy, which resulted in an address to the people recommending
the reelection of Mr. Washburn. I signed the address of which
I wrote a few sentences. Judge Hoar made a bright and characteristic
speech in which he said that "the people of Massachusetts
would not yield the office of Governor to a Tichborne claimant,
whether with or without a bond." This name, "the Claimant,"
stuck to Butler for the rest of his life.
In 1871 my opposition to General Butler and support of Governor
Washburn was well known. I announced my preference for the
latter in a letter to the Springfield _Republican._ This did
not occasion any personal quarrel with Butler, although our
relations were never cordial. But in 1873 he was very angry
with the persons who signed the address in favor of the renomination
of Governor Washburn. He wrote a letter to the people of
Massachusetts in which he angrily attacked many persons in
the Republican party whom he believed to be his opponents.
Among them he bitterly attacked me. He sent a copy of this
letter in the form of a broadside to every newspaper in Massachusetts,
I believe, and had it folded into every copy of the paper.
I instantly replied, setting forth as well as I could the
character and quality of General Butler and the nature of
his influence upon the youth of the Commonwealth. The letter
contained the following sentences:
"When General Butler proposed to pay off our national debt
in irredeemable paper, General Grant silenced him with the
ringing sentence in his inaugural, 'Let it be understood that
no repudiator of one farthing of our public debt will be trusted
in public place,' because he knew that he was trying to tempt
this people to escape from a burden by a mean and base act.
"He has quarrelled with Grant and Wilson, and Colfax and Blaine,
and Andrew, and Sumner, and the Washburnes, and Bingham, and
Schenck, and Dawes, because he is quarrelsome. They have
been compelled, each in his own way, to chastise and punish
him because he deserved to be whipped.
"Among the unprincipled adventurers who gained favor in the
corrupt times of the Stuarts, and whose evil counsels brought
Charles the First to his doom, the most notorious was Buckingham.
Gaining favor by lending himself as the subservient tool in
accomplishing every evil purpose: restless, ambitious, unscrupulous,
selfish, revengeful, thrusting himself into military employments
for which he was unfit and from which he was compelled to
retire in disgrace, getting a 'competent private fortune'
by dishonest practices, which he lavished in overcoming the
virtue of timid and venal men, his name is the shame of England.
Nugent says of him: 'His shrewdness in judging of men was
employed only to enable him to found his influence upon their
weaknesses and vices; so that, when opposed to men of capacity,
or thwarted by what remained of public virtue in the country,
he found himself in conflict with weapons of which he knew
not the use; and his counsels were dangerous, and his administration
unprosperous. His only wisdom was the craft with which he
managed weak or bad men, and his only virtue the courage with
which he overawed timid ones.' Such counsellors, fatal to a
monarch, are full of peril to a republic. Such men can only
prosper in times of public corruption.
"General Butler has done, unless he has egregiously imposed
upon us, two things well. He out-blackguarded a New York
mob in 1864, and with a United States army at his back, he
kept down a rebel city in 1862. Massachusetts is not likely
soon to stand in need of either of these processes. But he
never has accomplished anything else of much importance when
his point could not be carried by sheer blustering. The history
of all his other attempts may be comprised in three words--
_Swagger, quarrel, failure._
"Other men have aspired before now to the office of Governor
of Massachusetts. It is an honorable ambition. They were
content to leave their claims to be set forth by others, and
were glad to waive them if by so doing they could promote
the harmony of the party. This man seeks nothing but his
own selfish ends, utterly regardless of the wishes, the welfare,
or the harmony of the great party to which he professes to
belong. The people of Massachusetts have sometimes elected
to this high office men who in some particulars are not deserving
of respect. But the people respected them, and chose them
because they deemed them worthy, and the persons so chosen
endeavored to deserve the public confidence. This man, if
he is chosen at all, is to be chosen without having the respect
of the men to whom he looks for support. It would be harder
to find a leading supporter of General Butler who will say
that he deems him honest, truthful, disinterested, or incapable
of using power to gratify both his ambition and his revenge.
The men whom General Butler will beat are the men whom he
persuades to support him."
The morning after his defeat in the State Convention each
of the principal morning papers in Boston headed its account
of the Convention with the words, "Swagger, Quarrel, Failure."
General Butler made no further reply by letter. But he came
to Worcester, where I dwelt, and addressed an enormous meeting
in Mechanics Hall. I suppose many more people than those
that got in were obliged to go away because the Hall would
not hold them. The General devoted his speech largely to
a powerful and bitter attack upon me. I replied at a meeting
at the same place a few days after. My speech ended with
the following sentences. After describing the heroism of
the youth of Worcester in the battle with slavery and the
battle with Rebellion, I added:
"And now, after the war, another enemy, unarmed, but bringing
even greater danger, menaces the Republic. The battle with
corruption is the duty of the hour. The blow which rebellion
aimed at the Nation's life you could ward off. The wounds
it inflicted are already in the process of cure. But this
poison, this rotting from the core, is far more dangerous
to the Republic. There is already danger that the operations
of the Tweeds and Goulds in New York may be repeated on a
more gigantic scale at the National capital. The mighty railroads
to whom our public domain has been so lavishly granted, in
some cases I doubt not, wisely, afford infinite opportunity
for plunder and corruption. All these are at the cost of
the labor of the country. The increased tax falls in the
end on the consumer. With the waste of our public land are
diminished the resources of the laborer. Following bad precedents
Congress has itself been induced to set the pernicious example
of which you have heard so much discussion. (This referred
to the measure known as the Salary Grab.) The author of the
measure tells you that he knew what he was doing, and if you
didn't like it you could vote against him. Are you quite
ready to declare to the country that in this great contest
with extravagance and corruption, wherever the Republicans
of the rest of the country may array themselves, the Republicans
of Massachusetts fight under the banner of General Butler?
"You are doubtless familiar with Victor Hugo's description
of the marine monster said to be found in the vicinity of
the Channel islands, and known as the Devil Fish. It is
apparently formed of an almost transparent jelly, colorless,
almost indistinguishable from the water which surrounds it,
armed with long slender limbs, numerous as the feet of the
centipede, and strong in their grasp as hands of iron. The
bather in those waters habitually provides himself with a
long keen blade, which, when he finds himself encountered
by one of these monsters, he elevates above his head in his
extended right hand. As the creature approaches, the bather
feels himself slowly enveloped in the powerful limbs which
twine about him, holding him in their iron grasp. Suddenly
a head appears, and drawing itself nearer the animal seeks
to fasten its mouth upon the lips of the victim and deprive
him of life. At this moment the bather strikes with his knife
into the head of the monster. Instantly the limbs relax their
hold, the hideous creature slowly disappears, and the bather
is left unharmed and safe. Our Republic finds itself to-
day assailed by a monster as dangerous, unpalpable, soft,
horrible but strong--strong as hands of iron. The limbs of
this monster of Corruption have seized upon our noble Republic,
but at last there is a head coming in sight, and I think the
Republicans of Massachusetts are able to bear the knife and
strike the blow which will destroy its horrible life so that
it shall fall powerless forever!"
That closed the discussion so far as we were concerned for
that campaign.
In 1876 Judge Hoar, who had been, very much against his will,
elected to Congress from the Middlesex District declined a
renomination. General Butler, who had been defeated at the
polls in the Essex District two years before was thereupon
nominated, having pledged himself to the Republicans that
he would abandon his fiat money doctrines in obedience to
the declared will of the people; a pledge which as stated
above he shamefully violated. There was no expectation of
defeating him. But some few Republicans who were unwilling
to support him desired a candidate on whom to unite, and they
applied to Judge Hoar. He said he had no desire to go to
Congress. But he thought there ought to be a Republican candidate
against Butler and that he had no right to ask another man
to take a position from which he flinched himself, and accordingly
he was nominated. But Butler was elected by a large majority.
That however was substantially the end of his relation with
the Republican Party. After the Inauguration of President
Hayes he tried to have the public officers in his District
who had refused to support him removed. On President Hayes's
refusal he left the Republican Party and became, a year or
two after, the Democratic nominee for Governor for two or
three years and, as has been seen, was elected in 1883. I
of course supported the Republican candidate and made, I suppose,
thirty or forty speeches in each of those years. He had said
in explaining and defending his fiat money scheme that the
word "fiat" means "let there be." God said "fiat lux," "let
there be light," and there was light. He argued that fiat
money was excellent from the very fact that it cost nothing
and had no intrinsic value. So if a bill were lost or destroyed
a new one could be supplied without cost. He also said that
it would stay in the country and would not be sunk in the
morasses of Asia, especially in China and India, where silver
and gold were absorbed and never heard of in civilized nations
afterward. I quoted these sentences with the following comment:
"That, Fellow-citizens, is precisely the difference between
Omnipotence and Humbug, between the Almighty and General Butler.
God said let there be light and there was light. General
Butler says let there be money and there is--rags. This is
the first time in our history that the American workingman
has been gravely asked to take for his wages money it costs
nothing to make, that it is no loss to lose, that it is no
gain to get, and that even a Chinaman won't touch." Butler
was very angry and answered, rather irrelevantly, as it seemed
to me, by saying that I did not go to the War, to which I
replied as follows:
"I see that the Greenback candidate for Governor has seen
fit to taunt some persons, including myself, who have ventured
to exercise the privilege of free speech in this campaign,
that they did not go to the war; while he boasts that he not
only went to the war but hung a rebel. Those persons who
did not go to the war may, perhaps, possess at least this
advantage, that they can form an impartial opinion of the
merits of those who did. It is the pride and the honor of
this noble Commonwealth of ours, that of the hundred thousand
brave soldiers and sailors she sent to the war, there was
but one notorious braggart; there was but one capable of parading
up and down the Commonwealth, vaunting that he had hung a
man; exhibiting himself as the Jack Ketch of the rebellion.
I bow reverently to the brave, modest, patriotic soldier,
who, without thought of personal gain, gave youth, health,
limb, life to save the country which he loved. I am willing
to abide by his opinion, and to yield to him every place of
honor and of office. But to you, General Butler, whose military
career is made up of the blunder and slaughter of Big Bethel;
of the powder explosion at Fort Fisher; of the engineering
at Dutch Gap; of the "bottling-up" at Bermuda Hundred; of
the trading with the rebels through the lines in North Carolina;
of the scandals of New Orleans; to you, who were ordered by
General Grant to go home in disgrace; to you whose best service
had been, if you, too, had stayed at home, I have no such
tribute to offer. When Benedict Arnold taunts Jefferson that
he did not go into battle in the Revolution, when Aaron Burr
taunts John Adams with want of patriotism, then it will be
time for you to boast yourself over the men who performed
the duties of civil life during the Rebellion."
We have had turbulent and exciting times in our State and
National politics before and since that day. But I think
there has been nothing in Massachusetts, and so far as I am
aware there has seldom been anything in the country anywhere
like the years from 1869 until 1877, when General Butler's
power was at its height. You could hardly take up a morning
paper without dreading that you should read of the removal
from some position of honor of some brave honest soldier who
had deserved well of his country, and the substitution of
some disreputable person in his place. All the dishonesty
of the time seemed to be combined and rallied to his support.
Three of his trusted lieutenants in different parts of the
Commonwealth were convicted of crime and sent to the State
Prison. Another was detected in crime punishable by imprisonment
in the State Prison, but escaped prosecution by a compromise.
Still another was compelled to flee the country for a series
of forgeries, finding refuge in a South American State with
which we had no treaty of extradition. Still another was
indicted for frauds which wrecked a National bank, and escaped
conviction by a technicality. Still another was compelled
to flee from the Commonwealth by the detection of some notorious
frauds. And now more recently, in 1898, another has been
arrested, a fugitive from justice, and brought back to Massachusetts,
having wrecked two banks and embezzled their funds.
In the autumn of 1883 General Butler was a candidate for
reelection. He was so confident that he had prepared his
grounds for a magnificent illumination. But he was signally
defeated. I took a leading part in the campaign. I give
the following extract from my speech at Worcester:
"But we are thinking to-night of the matter of electing a
Governor. Character is more important than opinion; good
name to the State, as to the citizen, is better than riches.
I suppose it is true of each one of you as of myself that
among his chief comforts and pleasures in life is his pride
in being a Massachusetts citizen. The honor and good fame
of our beloved State is far above any question of party. I
think I do you no more than justice when I declare that you
lament as much as I do the personal character of the contest
which is upon us. It has never been the habit of Republicans
to deal in personalities. The Republican press and the Republican
platform in Massachusetts has been singularly free from these
things. What Democratic candidate can be named other than
the present Governor to whom the Republicans have not delighted
to pay the respect due to honorable and respected opponents.
Have Gaston or Thompson or either Adams or Hancock or any
of their candidates for Congress, anything to complain of
in this respect? If we deal differently with General Butler,
it is because the difference is in him. We have selected
our own candidate on a very simple principle. In determining
on whom we would confer the title, His Excellency, we have
sought a man who represented in his own person our standard
of excellence. We sought a man whom the fathers and mothers
of the Commonwealth would be willing to hold up to their children
for imitation. We sought a man, tried and proved in important
public trusts, faithful, sincere, upright, downright, who
would continue and maintain the honored line of Massachusetts
Governors. We have found such a man in George D. Robinson.
I will sum up what I have to say of Mr. Robinson by saying
that he is in every respect the reverse of his antagonist.
We are told that we must not discuss the record of the candidate
of our antagonists before his election last year. That was
all condoned. I do not concede for myself that truth is necessarily
determined by majorities. I have a high respect for the people,
but they do not change men's characters by their votes. But,
be it so, let bygones be bygones. Let us concede that the
career of our present governor as citizen and soldier and
statesman furnishes a lofty example of every virtue under
heaven. Let us admit that it was love of liberty that advocated
the Fugitive Slave Law in the old Democratic days; that it
was fidelity that was sent to Charleston, to vote for Douglas,
and voted fifty-seven times for Jefferson Davis; that it was
patriotism of which Governor Andrew said in 1861: 'I am compelled
to declare with great reluctance and regret that the whole
course of proceedings under Major General Butler in this Commonwealth
seems to have been designed and adopted to afford means to
persons of bad character to make money unscrupulously;' that
it was good generalship that caused the blunder and slaughter
of Big Bethel; that it was skilful engineering that made the
canal at Dutch Gap a laughing-stock to the civilized world;
that it was a great strategist that was bottled up at Bermuda
Hundred; that it was courage that retreated from the uncaptured
Fort Fisher; that it was purity that caused the scandals of
New Orleans, and integrity that traded through the lines in
North Carolina; that it was a great soldier that was ordered
by General Grant to report at Lowell; that it was zeal for
the public service that defended the Sanborn Contracts; that
it was modesty that has gone so often up and down the State
blowing his own trumpet; that it was honesty that mingled
the funds of the Soldiers' Home with its own; that it was
good faith that sought to juggle the public creditor out of
his debt; that it was care for the poor and the working men
that sought to give our laborers rags for wages and our soldiers
waste paper for pensions; that it was a faithful representative
that promised the men of the Middlesex District that if he
might go once more to fight the Rebel brigadiers he would
faithfully represent their opinions on finance and then proposed
that marvellous scheme of fiat money, which he represented
it would be no loss to lose and no gain to get, and that even
a Chinaman would not touch, so that the same constituency
demanded his resignation and 'resolved, that we warn the people
of the Commonwealth, whose votes General Butler is now soliciting
by promises to serve them faithfully, that his professions
when seeking office have been found in our experience to be
easily made and as easily repudiated when the time for redeeming
them came; that they are neither gold nor good paper, but
a kind of fiat currency, having no intrinsic value, cheap,
delusive, irredeemable and worthless;' that it was an honest
Democrat, of whom Mr. Avery, President of this year's Democratic
Convention, declared that his promises and pledges could not be
trusted; that it was consistency which has belonged to every
party in turn. We will put the issue of this election upon
the record of the year's administration. He has shown an
utter want of understanding of the true theory of the Constitution.
This is illustrated in his removal of Warden Earle. He told
his friends at the prison that he made the removal because
Earle would not obey his orders. He had no more right to
give an order to Earle than to you or me. The Governor and
the Council have the right to prescribe rules for the government
of the prison--not the Governor. The Board of Prison Commissioners
have the right to give directions to the Warden, but not the
Governor. His telling Earle to obey his orders on pain of
dismissal was as flagrant a violation of law and of the fundamental
principles of the Constitution, as it was an injustice to
as brave an officer, as honest a man as ever tied a sash around
his waist. He traduced the Commonwealth in his vile Tewksbury
speech. I believe every charge he made broke down on his
own evidence or was thoroughly refuted. But if the thing
were decent to do, it might be done decently. Those of you
who have delighted to listen to the classic eloquence of Everett,
to the lofty speech of Sumner, to the noble appeals of Andrew,
aye, to the sincere and manly utterances of Robinson, take
that speech and read it. He insulted womanhood in the person
of a defenceless girl. He insulted purity by a speech so
gross that the principal Democratic paper in Boston declares
it unfit for circulation, and demands that it be suppressed.
He insulted every colored man in the State, when, in an unguarded
moment, speaking from his very soul, he called out: 'Give
me the skin that came off the nigger.' He insulted the citizen
soldiers of Massachusetts when he declared that they needed
but a word from him to clean out the State House. He insulted
the common school system of Massachusetts when he said that
if his witness were a person of immoral character, the school
system was responsible. He insulted the whole Commonwealth
in trying to cast upon the foul imputation that she was inhuman
and indifferent to her poor and unfortunate, and intimated
that the tanning of human skins was a recognized Massachusetts
industry. Another insult is the menace of fraud that comes
from Boston. The law requires the appointment of election
officers, to be chosen equally from the two great parties,
and every mayor of Boston, Republican and Democrat alike,
Pierce, Gaston and Green, have fairly and honorably discharged
their duty. It is one of the most important trusts that can
be imposed upon a public official, to guard the purity of
the vote of their fellow citizens. The Republican Committee
this year submitted its lists and the names upon them were
changed, and other men substituted, Butler men, Democrats
and criminals, all charged to the Republican account. Our
neighbor, Judge Nelson, a few years ago, tried at the bar
of his court a man whom Governor Butler defended. He was
convicted, sentenced and went to jail. He is now out of prison,
and has been substituted for a Republican, probably by the
influence of his former counsel, to count the ballots of the
citizens of Boston. You have heard of such proceedings in
other States, but never in Massachusetts. Unless the people
of this Commonwealth rise in their might and crush out this
attempted fraud, they will have at the mouth of the Charles
River another New York, with its frauds, Tweed rings and scandals."
He answered that by an attack on the memory of my father who
had died more than twenty-five years before. Thereupon the
controversy, so far as it had anything personal in it, ended.
It happened that the year when General Butler was Governor
I was elected President of the Harvard Alumni Association.
It was the custom of the College to invite the Governor to
the dinner of the Alumni on Commencement day as the guest
of the University and to confer upon him the degree of Doctor
of Laws. It would have been my duty to preside at the dinner
and to walk with him at the head of the procession, to have
him seated by my side at the table, and to extend to him the
courtesies of the University. I hardly knew what I ought
to do. I must either walk with him and sit by his side in
silence or with a formal and constrained courtesy which would
in itself be almost an affront, or on the other hand, I must
take his hand, salute him with cordiality as becomes a host
on a great occasion in dealing with a distinguished guest,
and converse with him as I should have conversed with other
persons occupying his high place. It did not seem to me that
I ought to do either, especially in the case of a man whose
offence had not been merely against me, but who had made a
gross and unfounded attack upon the memory of my father, and
of whose personal and public character I entertained the opinion
I had so often publicly expressed. Accordingly I declined
to accept the office of President. My place was filled by
Joseph H. Choate, who discharged the duty, of course, very
much better than I could have done it.
Mr. James F. Rhodes in his able and most impartial history
of the United States, speaking of the events of the summer
of 1864 and the disintegrating and discouraging condition
of the Army of the Potomac, says:
"Circumstances seemed to indicate the bitterness of disappointment
at the failure of the high hopes and expectations which filled
the soul of Grant when he crossed the Rapidan. It was commonly
believed in the Army that his misfortune had driven him again
to drink, and on this account and others Butler with crafty
method acquired a hold on him which prevented him from acting
for the best interests of the service. It is not a grateful
task to relate the story of Butler using Grant as a tool to
accomplish his own ends. The picture of such a relation between
the two is repulsive, but it may be fraught with instruction
as men of the type of Butler are never absent from our political
life."*
[Footnote]
* Rhodes, "History," Vol. 4, p. 493.
[End of Footnote]
"Butler had some hold on the Commander of the Armies of the
United States and in the interview of July 9th showed his
hand."*
[Footnote]
* Rhodes, Ibid., Vol. 4, p.495.
[End of Footnote]
I do not suppose the secret of the hold which General Butler
had upon General Grant will ever be disclosed. Butler boasted
in the lobby of the House of Representatives that Grant would
not dare to refuse any request of his because he had in his
possession affidavits by which he could prove that Grant had
been drunk on seven different occasions. This statement was
repeated to Grant by a member of the House who told me of
the conversation. Grant replied without manifesting any indignation,
or belief or disbelief in the story: "I have refused his requests
several times." In the case of almost any other person than
President Grant such an answer would have been a confession
of the charge. But it ought not to be so taken in his case.
Unless he desired to take into his full confidence the person
who was speaking to him he was in the habit of receiving most
important communications with entire silence or with some
simple sentence which indicated his purpose to drop the subject.
My own belief is that at some time during the War, or before
the War in times of discouragement Grant may have been in
the habit of drinking freely and may at some time have done
so to excess. During the whole time of his Presidency I had
a good opportunity to observe him in personal intercourse.
I was familiar with many men who were constantly in his company
at all hours of the day and often far into the night. They
assured me that there was no foundation for any imputation
that he was in the habit of drinking to excess then. If at
any time he had formed such a habit he had put it under his
feet. For that I think he is entitled to greater honor than
if he had never yielded to temptation. My explanation of
Butler's influence over Grant is to some extent conjecture.
But I believe Grant thought him a powerful political leader
and that he was entitled to respect as representing the opinions
of large numbers of men. Beside that Butler had a great
influence over some ambitious men who were his confederates
and over some timid men who were afraid of him. Their influence
with Grant was on Butler's side. Then Grant was apt, as I
have said in another place, to sympathize with men who were
bitterly attacked, especially men who were charged with dishonesty
or corruption, because such charges were made against him.
So without undertaking to explain Butler's influence with
Grant, I content myself with stating it and lamenting it.
He led Grant to make some very bad appointments in Massachusetts
which were totally repugnant to the feeling of her people.
But for those appointments, in my opinion, the strong objection
felt by her people to giving any President of the United States
a third term would not have prevented her supporting him for
renomination in 1880, a support which would have insured his
success.
After President Hayes came into power General Butler tested
the President's willingness to permit him to control the patronage
of Massachusetts. He demanded the appointment of a man recommended
by him to the office of Postmaster at Methuen. The term had
expired. President Hayes carefully examined the matter in
person, got a list of the principal patrons of the office,
and compared it with the petitions. He determined to reappoint
the incumbent, who was an excellent officer, and a Republican
who had refused to vote for General Butler. The man whom
General Butler recommended had lost a leg in the War. He
had an artificial limb so well made that many people, even
those who worked in the same shop with him, did not know
that he had lost his leg. Butler went before the Senate
Committee on Post Offices to get them to reject President
Hayes's nominee, taking his own candidate with him. He had
the man leave off his artificial leg and come on crutches
to get greater sympathy. He made an earnest and angry speech
before the Committee attacking President Hayes. But he made
no impression, and the old Postmaster was confirmed and reappointed.
Thereupon Butler left the Republican party, first declaring
himself an Independent and attempting in that capacity to
get elected as Governor of the State. Failing in that he
avowed himself a Democrat, and was, as has been already said,
elected by the Democrats in the fall of 1882. This transaction
terminated his relation to the Republican Party, and his defeat
for Governor terminated his political life with the exception
that he was the Greenback candidate for the Presidency in
1884. But he received little support.
CHAPTER XXV
BELKNAP IMPEACHMENT
March 3, 1876, a message was sent to the Senate from the
House of Representatives, impeaching General Belknap, the
Secretary of War. He was charged with having received corruptly
a large sum of money, payable in quarterly instalments, for
the appointment of a Post Trader, an officer appointed by
the Secretary of War. This was a very lucrative position,
the profits of which depended very largely upon the Secretary.
I was chosen one of the Managers of the Impeachment by the
House. There was no serious question of the guilt of the
Secretary. But he resigned, and his resignation was accepted,
after the discovery of his misconduct, before the proceedings
of impeachment were inaugurated. The whole struggle was over
the question of the Constitutional right of the Senate to
convict a public officer on impeachment proceedings instituted
after he had left office. Upon that question I made a careful
and elaborate argument. A majority of the Senate (37 to 25)
were for sustaining the proceedings. But the Senators who
thought the Senate had no jurisdiction to enter a judgment
of guilty when the proceedings were commenced after the person
left office, deemed themselves constrained to vote Not Guilty
as the only mode of giving that opinion effect.
So General Belknap was acquitted for the want of the two-
thirds vote for his conviction. Every Democrat voted for
conviction except Mr. Eaton of Connecticut. The following
Republicans voted for conviction: Booth, Cameron of Pennsylvania,
Dawes, Edmunds, Hitchcock, Mitchell, Morrill, Oglesby, Robertson,
Sargent, Sherman, and Wadleigh.
It is difficult to believe that the Senators who voted for
acquittal were not, perhaps unconsciously, influenced by the
desire to shield a political associate from punishment. The
power to impeach public officers after leaving office had been
exercised in England from time immemorial. It is well settled
that when in the Constitution or legislation of the United
States a term of English law is used, that the meaning customarily
given to the term in English jurisprudence is to ascribed
to it here.
The history of this clause as found in the proceedings of
the Convention that framed the Constitution, makes very clear
the understanding of that body. They first inserted the words:
"The Senate of the United States shall have power to try all
impeachments, but no person shall be convicted without the
concurrence of two-thirds of the members present, which in
case of impeachment shall not extend further than to removal
from office and disqualification to hold and enjoy any office
of trust and profit under the United States." The framers
of the Constitution regarded the power of impeachment as absolutely
essential to the working of the Government.
That clearly gave the two Houses of Congress the common law
powers of impeachment, as exercised by Parliament. At a later
time there was added: "The Vice-President and all civil officers
of the United States shall be removed from office on impeachment
and conviction." That was added as a limitation on the tenure
of office. It seems incredible that they should have intended,
without debate or division, to wholly change and so greatly
limit and narrow the clause previously adopted.
It is obvious that impeachment and removal from office will
be in many cases an insignificant and unimportant part of
the remedy as compared with perpetual disqualification from
holding office. It seems incredible that it could ever have
been intended that this judgment of perpetual disqualification
to hold office could only be rendered when the defendant is
willing, and can be avoided by his voluntary resignation.
The framers of the Constitution were very skilful Constitutional
mechanics. I am satisfied that the opinion of the majority
of the Senate will prevail hereafter, unless the case where
the question shall come up be, like that of Belknap, strongly
affected by party feeling.
President Monroe said: "The right of impeachment and of trial
by the Legislature is the mainspring of the great machine
of government. It is the pivot on which it turns. If preserved
in full vigor, and exercised with perfect integrity, every
branch will perform its duty."
I received a good many letters expressing approval of my
argument. Perhaps, without inordinate vanity, I may be permitted
to preserve those which follow. The approval of my honored
and beloved instructor, Judge Thomas, gave me special satisfaction.
I am led to publish these letters partly because I think
the opinion of the writers on the question is worth preserving
for future reference, but chiefly, I believe, from what I
hope will be deemed a pardonable vanity. Mr. Sumner, in
editing the thirteen volumes of his speeches, has given in
regard to all of them, letters from friends and correspondents,
expressing his approval. I do not suppose it would ever have
occurred to Daniel Webster to publish similar certificates
as to any speech or act of his.
FROM GEORGE S. BOUTWELL, GOVERNOR; SECRETARY OF THE
U. S. TREASURY; U. S. SENATOR, ETC., TO
JUDGE E. R. HOAR.
UNITED STATES SENATE,
WASHINGTON, May 8th, 1876.
_My dear Judge,_
It was the opinion of all who heard your brother's argument
in the Belknap case that it was the best of the arguments
yet given and that it will rank with the best at any time
delivered in the Senate.
I do not write this because I was in any degree surprised,
but it cannot be otherwise than agreeable to you to know
that there is a concurrence in the view I have expressed.
Very truly,
GEO. S. BOUTWELL.
To The Honble
E. R. Hoar,
Concord, Mass.
FROM JUDGE BENJAMIN F. THOMAS OF THE SUPREME COURT
OF MASSACHUSETTS.
NO. 9 PEMBERTON SQ
BOSTON May 25th '76.
_My Dear Sir_
I am greatly obliged to you for sending me a copy of your
admirable argument on the question of jurisdiction in the
impeachment case.
The argument is sensible and exhaustive, the style clear,
forcible and attractive and the whole tone temper and spirit
becoming a jurist and statesman.
Very truly yours
BENJ F. THOMAS.
Hon Geo F. Hoar
FROM WILLIAM M. EVARTS, SECRETARY OF STATE; UNITED
STATES SENATOR, ETC.
NEW YORK, May 22, 1876.
_My dear Mr. Hoar,_
I am much obliged to you for sending me your speech, as manager,
on the question of jurisdiction. I had seen it applauded
in the newspapers and am happy to add mine to the general
suffrage. It seems to me a very complete and able presentation
both of law and reasons of State on your side.
My own opinions are strongly adverse to the jurisdiction,
and I should greatly lament its maintenance by the Senate.
In ordinary times I should not suppose it possible, and I
do not think it probable, now.
I hope the defendant's counsel presented the argument as satisfactorily
from their side as you have done for yours. But I have little
hope that it is so.
Yours very truly,
(Signed) WM M. EVARTS.
The Hon'ble
Geo F. Hoar.
FROM JUDGE DWIGHT FOSTER OF THE SUPREME COURT OF
MASSACHUSETTS.
BOSTON, 20 May, '76.
_My Dear Sir:_
I have read with satisfaction and admiration your exhaustive
and conclusive argument in the Belknap impeachment case. It
would have convinced me, if I had not been of your opinion
already. In thought I doubted a little at first. My mind
was soon satisfied that the narrow construction which left
the accused to decide whether to abide his trial or by resignation
to defeat the jurisdiction of the court could not possibly
be correct.
Congratulating you on your success,
I am
Yours sincerely
DWIGHT FOSTER
Honble Geo F. Hoar
FROM CHARLES DEVENS, JR., ATTORNEY-GENERAL, ETC.
WORCESTER
May 18, '76.
_My Dear Hoar_
I have just read with the greatest interest and satisfaction
your speech on the jurisdiction in the impeachment case. It
seems to me most able profound and convincing and I congratulate
you immensely on the effort which is spoken of by all who
have read it as most vigorous and successful. It could not
have been better done.
Yours most truly
CHAS DEVENS JR
FROM CHARLES ALLEN, JUDGE OF THE SUPREME COURT OF
MASSACHUSETTS.
BOSTON May 18 1876
_Dear Mr. Hoar_
Thanks for your argument in the Belknap case. Massachusetts
is very proud of what you have done in this case; and I, among
the rest.
Yours very truly
CHARLES ALLEN.
Hon. G. F. Hoar.
CHAPTER XXVI
ELECTORAL COMMISSION
When the Presidential election of 1876 was over both sides
claimed the victory. When the certificates of the result
in the different States reached the President of the Senate,
in accordance with the requirement of the Constitution and
the law, it turned out that there was one majority for Hayes
and Wheeler, upon the face of the returns, if the returns
from the State of Oregon were construed in accordance with
the Republican claim.
The Governor of Oregon gave a transcript of the record and
declared his opinion that it showed one of the lawful electors
to have voted for Mr. Tilden. That would have given one majority
for Tilden. The Republicans claimed that upon the record
the election showed that all the Republican candidates for
elector had been chosen in Oregon, and that they had all voted
for Hayes and Wheeler.
The Democrats declared that the boards authorized to ascertain
and return the result of the election for Presidential electors
in South Carolina, Florida and Louisiana had corruptly and
unlawfully rejected votes that ought to be counted for them,
and counted votes for the Republicans that ought not to be
so counted; and had in that way changed the result which,
if it had been correctly ascertained and reported, would have
shown a Democratic majority in those three States.
The country was deeply excited. Threats of civil war were
heard in many quarters. When I went to Washington for the
session of December, 1876, while I did not believe there would
be a civil war, and supposed there would be some method of
escape devised, I confess I saw no such method. I now believe
that but for the bitter experience of a few years before,
with its terrible lesson, there would have been a resort to
arms. It would have been a worse civil war than that of the
Rebellion, because the country would have been divided not
by sections, but by parties.
But, as I have related elsewhere, a majority in Congress
agreed to submit the question to a Commission composed of
five Senators, five Representatives, and five Judges of the
Supreme Court, who, proceeding in accordance with an ingenious
and skilfully devised mechanism, were to determine the case.
I believe that as time goes on, the great self-restraint of
the American people in dealing with the momentous peril of
1877, and the constructive ability which created the simple
but perfect mechanism of the Electoral Commission, will receive,
as they deserve, the admiration of mankind. There was at
the time, as would be expected, some anger and disappointment
at the result. Occasionally some bigot who can find nothing
but evil in the history and life of his country, generally
some recluse who has little knowledge of affairs, charges
the Commission with having wickedly deprived the majority
of the people of the fruits of an honest and lawful victory.
But, in general, wherever I go I find that intelligent men
of both parties are satisfied with the righteousness of the
decision, and admit that a different judgment would have wrought
the destruction of the Republic.
When the decision of the Electoral Commission was accepted
every Democratic vote in the two Houses was against it, and
every Republican vote, save two, given in its favor. Of these
two, one shortly afterward left the Republican party and became
a bitter and angry Democrat. The other, a most admirable
and excellent college president, told me that he thought the
Commission were technically right. But he thought it better
for the effect on the country that the Democratic contention
should be sustained. As if in a question of Constitutional
proceeding, or rather a question of Constitutional power,
a determination could be technically right, and wrong upon
the merits. If Congress, technically, that is according to
the mandate of the Constitution, had no power to decide the
result of the elections in the States, but that power was
committed to State tribunals, how was it possible that any
member of either House of Congress, who had sworn to support
the Constitution, could usurp that power without being forsworn?
Beside, it must be conceded by everybody to be utterly impossible
that the power of investigating disputed questions, as to
the choice of presidential electors by the States, should
be exercised by Congress. There is no time for such an investigation
by Congress. It could only be done where a few precincts
or votes were in dispute, in places near the seat of Government.
It would have been impossible to do it in time for the inauguration
of the new President before the day of railroads and telegraphs
for any State in the country. It would be impossible now
to do it in parts of the country distant from the seat of
Government. The choice of electors takes place in November.
The result must be ascertained; the electors must meet; their
votes must be given; they must be certified to Congress; the
count must be made and result declared in Congress before
the 4th of March, a period of less than four months. If there
should be a contest made in each of the forty-five States,
an investigation might be demanded for every election precinct
in the country.
It seems to me clear that the power to judge of elections,
returns, and qualifications of presidential electors is not
given by the Constitution to the two Houses of Congress, or
either of them. The power which it was deemed necessary
carefully to express in regard to their own members, it could
hardly have been intended to bestow by implication from the
right to be present when the certificates are opened, or even
from the right to count the votes. It is a power which it
is utterly impracticable for Congress to exercise between
the time when the certificates are brought officially to its
knowledge, and the time when it must be determined who has
been chosen President. Indeed, the distinguished counsel
who closed the case for the Tilden electors* conceded this
difficulty, to which his only answer was the suggestion that
such an inquiry, like the right to the writ of _quo warranto,_
must be limited by discretion; in other words, that the two
Houses may go as far into the inquiry, who were duly chosen
electors in any State, as they in their discretion think fit,
or as time will permit.
[Footnote]
* Mr. Charles O'Connor.
[End of Footnote]
The statement of this position seems to be its refutation.
We are now discussing a question of jurisdiction. In whom
is the power to determine who have been appointed electors
--in Congress or in the State? It was gravely answered that
it is in Congress when the State to be investigated is near
the seat of Government, or the inquiry to a few election precincts
only, but it is to be left to the State in other cases; that
Congress may exert a power of inquiry into an election in
Delaware which is impossible as to California, or may inquire
into one election district in New York, but cannot into twenty
or a hundred. This claim would never have arisen in any man's
mind before the days of railroads and telegraphs. Such investigations,
possible only to the most limited extent now, would have been
wholly impossible as to most of the States when the Constitution
was adopted.
It is asked, is there no remedy if the officers to whom the
States intrust the power of ascertaining and declaring the
result of the election act fraudulently or make mistakes?
The answer is that the Constitution of the United States
gives no jurisdiction to Congress, when the certificates are
opened and the votes are to be counted, to correct such mistakes
or frauds. A like question may be put as to every public
authority in which a final power of decision is lodged. The
danger of mistake or fraud is surely quite as great if the
final power be lodged in Congress, and the framers of the
Constitution acted in nothing more wisely than in removing
from Congress all power over the election of President.
There was never yet a political party in this country, or
in England, which decided ordinary election cases, except
in the clearest case, on other than party considerations. In
England and Canada it has been found necessary to commit to
the courts the consideration of election cases. It is seldom
that either House of Congress has resisted partisan temptation
in election cases, when one seat only was the prize of the
contest. Is it likely that public virtue would withstand
the temptation of the Presidency?
The simple doctrine on which the Commission proceeded was
that the right to determine absolutely and finally who are
the duly chosen presidential electors is committed by the
Constitution to the States. The judgment of the tribunal
established by the State for that purpose is conclusive on
all the world. Congress is only to count the votes of the
officials found by the State to have the right to cast them.
It is said that in the Oregon case the Commission departed
from this principle, which they had acted upon in the case
of South Carolina, Florida and Louisiana. But there is not
the slightest truth in that suggestion. In all of those
three cases the laws of the State had established a tribunal
with absolute right to determine all questions arising out of
the election. The tribunal had the right to reject votes, or
count votes, according as they found the votes to be lawful
or unlawful. They had the right to reject returns from election
precincts where they found there could have been no lawful
or orderly election by reason of violence, or where they found
the returns untrustworthy by reason of fraud. This power
they exercised, and from it there was no appeal.
On the other hand the laws of Oregon did not provide for
a board of State canvassers, but provided that the Secretary
of State should canvass the votes in the presence of the
Governor, and prepare duplicate lists thereof, which lists
should be singed by the Governor and Secretary. These lists,
certified by the Secretary, were before the Electoral Commission,
and disclosed the choice of Republican electors. The Governor,
however, undertook to declare his opinion of the result. That
opinion was that a Democrat was chosen who had received less
than a majority of the votes, or to use the phrase of the
Governor, "received the highest number of votes cast for persons
eligible," because his Republican competitor was not eligible;
and he, therefore, certified that the Democrat had the largest
number of votes cast for persons eligible. That Democratic
elector proceeded then to hold a meeting, at which he was
the only person present, and as the two Republicans whom everybody
admitted were lawfully chosen, did not meet with him, he proceeded
to fill two vacancies himself.
The Secretary of State made the canvass required by law,
recorded it and filed it in his office. He made that canvass
in the presence of the Governor. He could not change it.
He could not tamper with it. He had completed his official
duty when he had completed it. So that the Governor's certificate
as to the effect of the election was of no more official character
than a like certificate of the Governor-General of India would
have been.
There was no claim or pretence in any quarter that the Republicans
did not have a lawful majority of the votes cast for electors
in Oregon. The only claim was that one of the electors was
postmaster, and that he did not lawfully resign before he
was chosen elector. He was postmaster at the time of the
election, but resigned a few days later. He was also chosen
after he had resigned to fill the vacancy in the Electoral
College, if his ineligibility created a vacancy, in the regular
form according to the laws of Oregon. There was no question
or pretence in any quarter that the will of the people of
Oregon was not given due effect by the judgment of the Electoral
Commission.
I do not believe that there are any considerable number of
intelligent persons in the country, now that the excitement
of the time has gone by, who doubt that the will of the people
of South Carolina and Florida and Louisiana was carried into
effect by the judgment of the Commission; and that their judgment
baffled an unscrupulous conspiracy to deprive the majorities
in those States of their lawful rights in the election because
those majorities were made up largely of negroes.
CHAPTER XXVII
FOUR NATIONAL CONVENTIONS
1876
It has been my fortune to be a delegate from Massachusetts
in four National Conventions for the nomination of President
and Vice-President--those of 1876, 1880, 1884 and 1888. In
the first I was a delegate from the Worcester district, which
I then represented in Congress. In the other three I was
at the head of the delegation at large. I presided over that
of 1880.
The history of these conventions is of great interest. It
shows the rudeness of the mechanism by which the Chief Executive
of this country is selected, and what apparently slight and
trivial matters frequently determine the choice. As is well
known, the framers of the Constitution, after considering
very seriously the question of entrusting the power of choosing
the President to the Senate, determined to commit that function
to electoral colleges, chosen in the several States in such
manner as their legislatures should determine, all the electors
to give their votes on the same day. It is generally stated
that the President and Vice-President cannot be from the same
State. That is not true. The Constitutional provision is
that electors in their respective States shall vote by ballot
for President and Vice-President, one of whom, at least, shall
not be an inhabitant of the same State with themselves.
It was intended that the choice of the President should not
be a direct act of the people. It was to be committed to
the discretion of men selected for patriotism, wisdom and
sobriety, and removed as far as might be from all the excitements
of popular passion.
The Constitution further provides that no Senator or Representative,
or person holding an office of trust or profit under the United
States, shall be appointed an elector. It was undoubtedly
the chief object of this last provision to prevent the perpetuation
of power in the same hands, or under the same influences,
by removing the choice of President wholly from the control
of persons wielding National authority. In a considerable
measure this purpose has been defeated. The elector, in practice,
is a mere agent or scribe. He records and executes the will
of the nominating convention of the party to which he belongs,
in which the real power of selection is in fact lodged. In
these conventions members of Congress, and holders of National
office, take frequently an active and influential share. It
is remarkable, however, how often the nominating conventions
have discarded the candidates who were favored by the holders
of executive office or the two Houses of Congress. And where
such candidates have been nominated by the convention of either
party, they have often been defeated at the polls. General
Harrison, in 1840, was nominated instead of Webster or Clay,
who were the leaders of the Whig Party, and doubtless the
favorites at Washington. In 1844, when Mr. Clay received
the Whig nomination, he was defeated by Mr. Polk, who had,
I suppose, hardly been heard of as a candidate in political
circles at the Capital. In 1848 the popular feeling again
compelled the nomination of a candidate, General Taylor, over
the favorite leaders at the Capital. In 1852 Fillmore and
Webster were both rejected by the Whigs for General Scott,
and General Pierce was summoned from private life for the
Democratic nomination. In 1860 Seward was rejected for Lincoln.
And in 1876 Hayes, whose National service had consisted of
but one term in the House of Representatives, was chosen as
the result of a contest in which Blaine, Conkling, Morton
and Bristow, distinguished National statesmen, were the defeated
competitors. So, in 1880, Garfield, who had not been much
thought of in official circles, was selected as the result of a
mighty struggle in which Grant and Blaine were the principal
champions, and in which Edmunds and Sherman, who had long
been prominent in the Senate, were also candidates.
Republican National Conventions since the War of the Rebellion
have been embarrassed by another influence, which I hope will
disappear. In many of the Southern States the Democratic
Party consists almost entirely of whites who have possessed
themselves of the forces of government by criminal processes,
which have been a reproach not only to this country, but to
civilization itself. The Republicans, however numerous, and
although having a majority of lawful voters in most of these
States, have been excluded from political power. They have
however, of course, had their full proportionate representation
in the National Convention of the Republican Party. Their
delegates have too often been persons who had no hope for
political advancement in their own States, and without the
ambition to commend themselves to public favor by honorable
public service, of which that hope is the parent. They have
been, therefore, frequently either National office-holders
who may reasonably be supposed to be under the influence
of the existing Administration, or likely to be governed
by a hope of receiving a National office as a reward for
their action in the convention; or persons who can be influenced
in their actions by money. This Southern contingent has been
in several of our National Conventions an uncertain and an
untrustworthy force.
The Republican nominating convention of 1876 was held at Cincinnati
on June 14. The delegates from Massachusetts were:
_At Large._--E. R. Hoar, Richard H. Dana, Jr., Paul A. Chadbourne,
John M. Forbes.
_From Districts._--William T. Davis, Robert T. Davis, John
E. Sandford, Edward L. Pierce, Henry D. Hyde, J. Felt Osgood,
Alpheus Hardy, C. R. McLean, James M. Shute, James F. Dwinal,
George B. Loring, Henry Carter, William A. Russell, C. H.
Waters, James Freeman Clarke, James Russell Lowell, A. J.
Bartholomew, George F. Hoar, James F. Moore, William Whiting,
Edward Learned, S. R. Phillips.
The struggle for the nomination equalled in bitterness and
in importance many of the contests between different political
parties that had preceded it. While the great majority of
the Republicans retained confidence in the personal integrity
and patriotism of President Grant, it had become painfully
manifest that he was often an easy victim to the influence
of unscrupulous and designing men. Grant never lost his hold
upon the hearts of the Northern people. Wherever there was
a contest in any State for political supremacy the least worthy
faction frequently got his ear and his confidence. He never
wavered in his attachment to the doctrines of his party--
protection, sound principles of finance and currency, honesty
in elections. But the old political leaders, whom the people
most trusted, were more and more strangers to his presence,
and ambitious and designing men, adventurers who had gone
South to make fortunes by holding office, men interested in
jobs and contracts, thronged the ante-chambers of the White
House. The political scandals, always likely to follow a
great war, seemed to be increasing rather than diminishing
during his second term of office.
I never though that the proper way to put an end to this
state of things was to abandon what I deem sound political
principles, or to abandon the party that was formed to establish
them. I should as soon have thought of turning Tory because
of like complaints in the Revolutionary War, or of asking
George III. to take us into favor again because of like scandals
which existed during the Administrations of Washington and
John Adams. But I thought, in common with many others, that
a party of sound principles could be made and should be made
a party of pure politics.
The two divisions in the Republican Party, which I have indicated,
marshalled their forces for the struggle in the convention
of 1876. The friends of Mr. Blaine were generally those Republicans
who had been dissatisfied with the conduct of the Administration.
They embraced, also, the larger number of the enthusiastic
young Republicans, who were attracted by Blaine's brilliant
qualities, as were those who had come in contact with him
by the marvellous personal charm of his delightful and gracious
manners. Roscoe Conkling was regarded as the leader of the
other party. The House of Representatives, by an almost unanimous
vote, had adopted the resolution declaring that it was contrary
to sound principle to elect a President for a third term.
So General Grant himself was not a candidate.
But as the time for the convention drew near, there had been
an investigation in the House of Representatives into the
affairs of the Little Rock and Fort Smith Railroad, which
had resulted in some uncomfortable revelations with reference
to Mr. Blaine. He was charged with having acquired stocks
in railroads which were to be affected by National legislation,
either without consideration or for a consideration far below
their true value, and of having eagerly sought to acquire
other similar stocks, the real consideration which he paid,
or expected to pay, being the use of his official influence
in behalf of these corporations. This investigation, ordered
by the Democratic House of Representatives, was conducted
by a majority of the committee charged with it, in a spirit
of bitter hostility. The investigation was still in progress
when the Republican Convention met. The facts, which were
distorted and discolored in public report, impressed many
excellent persons unfavorably to Mr. Blaine, and a few with
a belief of his guilt. They were used dexterously by his
political opponents and by his rivals in his own party, and
by some conspicuous persons who had, or thought they had,
personal grievances against him, to excite the public mind.
On the other hand, as is natural in such cases, the great
body of Mr. Blaine's friends clung all the closer to him
from a belief that he was the object of unjust and malignant
slander.
I did not think it, under the circumstances, wise to nominate
Mr. Blaine, either in 1876 or later. I believed then, and
now believe, that he would have been an admirable President
of the United States. But I did not think it wise to put
at the head of a movement for reform and for purity of administration,
a man whose supporters must defend him against such charges,
and who must admit that he had most unwisely of his own accord
put himself into a position where such charges were not only
possible, but plausible. But I was exceedingly anxious that
a candidate should be found who would be not only agreeable
to Mr. Blaine and his supporters, but whom, if possible, they
should have a large influence in selecting.
Such a candidate, it was hoped, might be found in Mr. Bristow.
He was a great favorite in his own State. He was a man of
spotless integrity and great ability. He had been a Union
soldier. He was from Kentucky, and his selection as a candidate
would remove the charge of sectionalism from the Republican
Party, and tend to give it strength with the white people
of the South. He had made an admirable Attorney-General,
and an admirable Secretary of the Treasury. He had been appointed
to the Cabinet by Grant. He had not been long enough in public
service to have encountered the enmities which almost always
attach themselves to men long in office, and he represented
no clique or faction. He was a man of clean hands and of
pure heart. For a good while it seemed as if the rival aspirations
of Blaine and Bristow might exist without ill-feeling, so
that when the time came, the supporters of either might easily
give their support to the other, or agree without difficulty
in the support of some third person. I gave a banquet at
Wormley's in the spring of 1876, which I hoped might have
some tendency toward this desired harmony. There were about
forty guests. Mr. Blaine sat on my right hand as the guest
of honor, and Mr. Bristow on the left. They talked together,
as I sat between them, during the whole evening in the most
friendly and delightful way, telling humorous anecdotes relating
to their own campaigns, as pleasantly as if they had been
describing the canvass of some third person whom they were
both supporting. I do not believe there was at that time
in the heart of either a tinge of anger against the other.
But as the contest went on, Mr. Blaine seems to have become
possessed with a belief that the bitter public attacks upon
him were instigated by Bristow. Some of the Kentucky papers
had been specially bitter. The Republican Convention opened
in Cincinnati, Wednesday, June 14. The Sunday morning before
Mr. Blaine fell in a swoon on the steps of the church at the
corner of G and Tenth Streets in Washington. He was carried
to his house on Fifteenth Street. Bristow was in his office
in the Treasury Department when a friend called upon him,
and gave him the news of Blaine's attack, and said: "Would
it not be well for you to go round and express your interest?"
Bristow took his hat, and the two friends went together to
Mr. Blaine's house.
An occurrence took place there which satisfied them both
that the feeling against Bristow on the part of Mr. Blaine
and his near friends was exceedingly strong and implacable.
The story was immediately telegraphed in cipher to Mr. Bristow's
principal manager at Cincinnati, from whom I had it a day
or two before committing it to paper. The facts were communicated
by him in confidence to members of the Kentucky delegation.
On the first six ballots the total number of votes cast was
754. Three hundred and seventy-eight were necessary for
a choice. Mr. Blaine received votes varying from 285 on
the first ballot to 308 on the sixth. On all these ballots, but
two, Bristow had the second largest number, ranging from
111 to 126. On the first and second ballot he was led by
Morton, who had 124 and 120 votes, and was closely followed
by Conkling, whose highest vote was 99. At the end of the
sixth ballot it had become manifest that the opponents of
Blaine, if they expected to succeed, must unite on a candidate.
A portion of the Pennsylvania delegation had already voted
for Blaine, who was a native of that State. Others had been
held in restraint from voting for him with difficulty, by
the influence of Don Cameron, chairman of the delegation and
a strong adherent of Grant. The New York Conkling men and
the majority of the Pennsylvania delegation, led by Cameron,
determined to cast their votes for Hayes, of Ohio, to prevent
the nomination of Blaine. In doing that they were to unite
with their most earnest antagonists and give their support
to a candidate who probably sympathized with them less than
any other on the list. It was manifest to the Kentucky delegation
that they must make their choice between Blaine and Hayes,
and that their choice would decide the nomination. They had
a hurried consultation and determined to vote unanimously
for Hayes. The going over of Kentucky to Hayes was followed
by the other States that had opposed Blaine. Hayes had on
the final ballot 384 votes, Blaine 351, and there were 21
cast for Bristow, which had been cast by States standing
earlier in alphabetical order on the roll, who had cast their
votes before the stampede began. If Kentucky had cast her
24 votes for Blaine, he would have been nominated. I was
told by the close friend of Bristow, of whom I have spoken,
and I have no doubt he is right, that the Kentucky Republicans
had felt very kindly toward Blaine, and their action was determined
by the knowledge of the transaction I have just related. They
thought that if this bitterness and anger and dislike of Mr.
Bristow existed in the mind of Mr. Blaine, it was hardly
worth while for Bristow's friends and supporters to clothe
him with the Presidential office. If Bristow had not visited
Blaine's house that Sunday morning, Blaine would, in my opinion,
have been the Republican candidate for the Presidency.
What would have been the result if Mr. Blaine had been nominated
in 1876, it is now idle to speculate. I am satisfied, in
looking back, that I myself underrated his strength as a candidate.
But it seems likely that he would have had the votes of all
the States which President Hayes received, and would have
been stronger than Hayes in New York.
Mr. Hayes came to the Presidency under circumstances of great
difficulty and embarrassment. He was in my judgment one of
the wisest, sincerest and most honest and patriotic men who
ever held the office.
But President Hayes's Administration was embarrassed by the
disputes about his title. The House of Representatives was
against him in the first Congress of his term, and in the
second Congress the Senate and House were in the hands of
his political opponents. He also throughout the whole term
had to encounter the hardly disguised hostility of nearly
all the great leaders of his own party in both Houses of Congress.
Conkling never spoke of him in public or private without a
sneer. I suppose he did not visit the White House or any
Department during President Hayes's term. Mr. Blaine was
much disappointed by President Hayes's refusal to give Mr.
Frye a place in the Cabinet, which he desired as a means of
composing some incipient jealousies in Maine. Hamlin, who
was a very influential Senator, was much disgusted by the
President's inclination to reform the civil service. This
feeling was largely shared by Simon Cameron, of Pennsylvania,
an able and patriotic man, who ruled the Republican Party
in that State with a despotic hand, and had as little respect
for the doctrines of the civil service reformers as you might
expect from one of his Highland ancestors who ruled over the
Clan Cameron in the days of the Scotch Stuarts. Cameron
had also a personal grievance, although I do not think that
made any difference in his feeling. He had been proposed
by the Pennsylvania delegation for the appointment to the
English Mission. But the proposition had not been received
with favor by President Hayes. Under these difficulties,
it is greatly to his honor that so much of public good was
accomplished in his time, and that he handed over the Government
to a Republican successor.
CHAPTER XXVIII
FOUR NATIONAL CONVENTIONS
1880
As the time approached for the Republican Convention of 1880,
it had become clear that it would witness a mighty struggle.
Conkling, Don Cameron, who had succeeded to his father's power
in Pennsylvania, and Logan, of Illinois, the most distinguished
volunteer soldier of the war, and a great favorite with his
old comrades, were the most conspicuous leaders of the party
who desired to restore the old Grant regime. They were seconded
by Howe, formerly Senator from Wisconsin and later Postmaster-
General under President Arthur, Creswell, of Maryland, Postmaster-
General in Grant's first term, Governor Boutwell, of Massachusetts,
who had a very distinguished public career as Governor, member
of the House of Representatives, Secretary of the Treasury,
and Senator. They selected as their candidate their old chieftain,
General Grant. He was strong not only in the powerful support
of these great political leaders, but in the solid confidence
of the great Methodist denomination to which he belonged,
in the love of the old soldiers, in the memory of his great
public service, both in war and peace, and the general respect
of the whole American people. Against this was the unwritten,
but well-understood, rule of action by which the people had
been governed since the time of Washington, that no person
should be elected to the office of President for more than
two terms. Against him, also, was the feeling that his judgment,
which had been sound and unerring in the selection of fit
men for good military service, was very much at fault in choosing
men in whom he should confide in civil affairs. There was
a further feeling that the influence of unworthy politicians,
which had been powerful with him during his second term, would
be more powerful if he should go back to the Presidency with
their aid.
Mr. Blaine's old popularity had been increased in the four
years since his former defeat. Many people believed that
he had been not only unjustly but cruelly treated, and were
eager to record their verdict of acquittal from the malignant
charges which had been made against him since 1876. There
was a third class, of whom I was one, who felt that it would
be unwise to nominate either General Grant or Mr. Blaine.
While they had a great respect for the character of Grant,
they dreaded the influences which would be sure to surround
him, if he should come to the Presidency again. While they
had the kindliest feeling for Mr. Blaine and shared the public
indignation at the character of the attacks of which he had
been the victim, they did not like to have a candidate who
would be so handicapped. Mr. Blaine's own imprudence had
unquestionably given an opportunity and a plausibility to
these slanders. They thought, also, that the nomination of
either Grant or Blaine would create a feeling of anger and
disappointment in the supporters of the defeated candidate,
which would seriously endanger the election. They looked
about, therefore, for a person who might not be obnoxious
to either the Blaine men or the Grant men, and found such
a person in Mr. Edmunds of Vermont. He was a man of ability
and long public service. He was not a person calculated to
inspire much popular enthusiasm, but answered very well as
a standard-bearer, although his supporters were ready to transfer
their support to another candidate, other than Blaine or Grant,
on whom a majority of the Convention should be brought to
unite. Mr. Sherman had also a considerable body of supporters
who respected him for his eminent talents and long and valuable
services.
General Grant had a peculiarly strong hold on the Republicans
of Massachusetts. They shared with all patriotic men throughout
the country a profound gratitude for his illustrious military
services. They had been impressed by a feeling of great respect
for his personal qualities. The modesty which led him to refuse
to enter Richmond in triumph at the close of the war; the
simplicity of his behavior; the magnanimity which led him
to claim so little praise for himself and give so much of
the credit to which he was entitled to Sheridan and Sherman,
and others of his military associates; his incorruptible personal
honesty; his soundness and firmness in dealing with all questions
affecting the public credit, the integrity of the currency,
and the rights of citizenship, had endeared him to the people
of a Commonwealth which ever valued such traits in her public
men. The Methodist denomination, always large in Massachusetts
and powerful in her Republican councils, was proud that this
statesman and warrior was of its fold. As the time for the
convention approached, four ex-Governors, men of great personal
influence, leaders in the Republican Party, yet of highly
different character, who represented very different shades
of Republican opinion--Boutwell, Bullock, Claflin and Rice--
declared themselves in favor of nominating him again. Nothing
could have prevented his carrying Massachusetts as by a great
wave, but the fact that he had been, in his second term, subject
to a most unworthy influence in the matter of appointments
to public office. The whole National executive patronage
in Massachusetts seemed given up to advancing the personal
fortunes of General Butler. Brave soldiers, honored Republicans,
were turned out of post-offices, to be replaced by incompetent
and dishonorable adventurers, odious in the neighborhoods
from which they came, to please this ambitious and unscrupulous
man. This excited a deep indignation which culminated when
William A. Simmons was made Collector of Boston. No personal
respect for General Grant could induce the Massachusetts Republicans
to run the risk of having again a President who was subjected
to personal influences like these. But for the appointment
of Simmons as the principal Federal officer in Massachusetts,
I think she would have supported Grant for a third term. The
Edmunds movement would never have been made, and his nomination
at Chicago would have been certain.
The State Convention passed resolutions in favor of Mr. Edmunds,
and elected as Delegates-at-Large, George F. Hoar, Worcester;
Charles B. Codman, Boston; John E. Sanford, Taunton; and
Julius H. Seelye, Amherst.
The District Delegates were: Charles W. Clifford, New Bedford;
Azariah Eldridge, Yarmouth; William C. Lovering, Taunton;
F. A. Hobart, Braintree; Phineas Pierce, Boston; Choate Burnham,
Boston; Eustice C. Fitz, Chelsea; Daniel Russell, Melrose;
Dudley Porter, Haverhill; N. A. Horton, Salem; George S.
Boutwell, Groton; George A. Marden, Lowell; R. M. Morse,
Jr., Boston; George W. Johnson, Milford; W. S. B. Hopkins,
Worcester; William Knowlton, Upton; Alpheus Harding, Athol;
Timothy Merrick, Holyoke; Wellington Smith, Lee; M. B. Whitney,
Westfield.
Of these, three were in favor of Grant, namely, Boutwell,
Eldridge, Marden; two were in favor of Sherman, and one for
Washburn.
The others voted for Mr. Edmunds in the beginning, meaning
to defeat both Grant and Blaine if they could, and were ready
to agree on any man of respectable character and capacity
by whom that defeat could be accomplished.
George F. Edmunds had a high reputation in the country as
an able lawyer, and a faithful and independent Senator. He
had unquestionably rendered great public service in the Senate.
If elected, I believe he would have administered the Presidency
on the principles which a large majority of the people of
Massachusetts hold. He was an excellent debater. He was
very fond of criticising and objecting to what was proposed
by other men. He seemed never so happy as when in opposition
to the majority of his associates. But he possessed what
persons of that temper commonly lack, great capacity for constructive
statesmanship. Any measure of which he was the author would
be likely to accomplish its purpose, and to stand fire.
David Davis, who was President pro tempore of the Senate,
used to say he could always compel Edmunds to vote in the
negative on any question by putting the question in the old
New England fashion, "Contrary-minded will say no," for Edmunds
was always contrary-minded. I once told him, borrowing a
saying of an Englishman, that if George Edmunds were the only
man in the world, George would object to everything Edmunds
proposed.
The morning after the Massachusetts Convention of 1880, when
the convention passed resolutions, proposing Edmunds as a
candidate for the Presidency, and placing me first on the
delegation at large, Edmunds came to me and said, I have no
doubt with absolute sincerity: "I have seen the proceedings
of your convention yesterday. If I know myself, I have no
desire to be President of the United States. I do not think
I am fit for it, and if I were, I should much prefer my present
service as Senator. I would say so in a public letter, but
I suppose the chances of my nomination are so slight that
it might seem ridiculous to decline." I said: "But, Edmunds,
just think of the fun you would have vetoing bills." He smiled,
and his countenance beamed all over with satisfaction at the
idea, and he replied, with great feeling: "Well, that would
be good fun."
So while, as I have said, the Massachusetts delegates, most
of them, supported Mr. Edmunds as a person likely to hold
some votes until the opposition to Grant might be concentrated
on some other candidate to be agreed on as the proceedings
of the convention went on, and while I think he would have
made an excellent President if he had been chosen, his candidacy
was never a very strong one.
This convention was menaced by a very serious peril. A plan
was devised which, if it had been successful, would, in my
judgment, have caused a rupture in the convention and the
defeat of the Republican Party in the election. The Chairman
of the Republican National Committee was Don Cameron of Pennsylvania,
then and for some years afterward a Senator of the United
States from that State. He was an ardent supporter of President
Grant and had been Secretary of War in his Cabinet, as his
father had been in the Cabinet of President Lincoln. Like
his father before him, he had ruled the Republican Party of
Pennsylvania with a strong hand. He was not given to much
speaking. He was an admirable executive officer, self-reliant,
powerful, courageous and enterprising, with little respect
for the discontent of subordinates. He was supported by a
majority of the delegates from Pennsylvania, although Blaine,
who was a native of that State, had a large following there.
The New York delegation was headed by Roscoe Conkling, who
had great influence over Grant when he was President, and
expected to retain that influence if he became President
again. The Maryland delegation was headed by J. A. J. Creswell,
who had been Postmaster-General more than five years in Grant's
two Administrations. On the Massachusetts delegation, as
I have said, was Governor Boutwell, Grant's Secretary of the
Treasury during nearly the whole of his first term, and on
that from Illinois John A. Logan. These men had a large following
over the whole country. There were three hundred and eight
persons in the convention who could be counted on to support
Grant from beginning to end, and about a dozen more were exceedingly
disposed to his candidacy. The State Conventions of the
three largest and most powerful States, New York, Pennsylvania
and Illinois, and possibly one or two others, that I do not
now remember, had instructed their delegates to vote as a
unit for the candidate who should be agreed upon by the majority.
Grant had a majority in each of these States. But there was
a minority of 18 in Illinois, 26 in Pennsylvania, and 19 in
New York, who were for other candidates than Grant. If their
votes had been counted for him it would have given Grant on
the first ballot 367 votes, 13 less than the number necessary
for a choice. As his votes went up on one of the ballots
to 313, it is pretty certain that counting these 63 votes
for Grant would have insured his nomination. But there were
several contests involving the title of their seats of 16
delegates from the State of Louisiana, 18 from Illinois, and
three others. In regard to these cases the delegates voted
in accordance with their preference for candidates. This
was beside several other contests where the vote was not determined
by that consideration. Now if the vote of Illinois, Pennsylvania
and New York had each been cast as a unit, in accordance
with the preference of the majority of the delegation in
each case, these 37 votes would have been added to Grant's
column and subtracted from the forces of his various antagonists;
and the 63 votes of the minority of the delegations in these
three States would also have been added to the Grant column,
which would have given him a total vote of more than 400,
enough to secure his nomination. So the result of the convention
was to be determined by the adaption or rejection of what
was called the unit rule.
Don Cameron, the Chairman of the National Committee, left
the Senate for Chicago about ten days, I think, before the
day fixed for the meeting of the convention. It was whispered
about before his departure that a scheme had been resolved
upon by him and the other Grant leaders, which would compel
the adoption of the unit rule, whatever might be the desire
of the convention itself. It was his duty, according to established
custom, to call the convention to order and to receive nominations
for temporary presiding officer. He was pledged, upon those
nominations, as it was understood, to hold that the unit rule
must be applied. In that way the sitting members from the
disputed States and districts would be permitted to vote, and
the votes of the three States would be cast without dissent
for the Grant candidate. When the temporary President took
his place he would rule in the same way on the question of
the choice of a permanent President, and the permanent President
would rule in the same way on the conflicting votes, for the
appointment of committees, for determining the seats of delegates,
and finally the nomination of the candidates for President
and Vice-President. If the minority claimed the right to
vote and took an appeal from his decision, he was to hold
that on the vote on that appeal the same unit rule was to
apply. If a second point of order were raised, he would hold,
of course, that a second point of order could not be raised
while the first was pending. So the way seemed clear to exclude
the contesting delegates, to cast the votes of the three great
States solid for Grant, and compel his nomination.
But the majority of the National Committee, of which Cameron
was Chairman, was opposed to Grant. They met, I think, the
day before the meeting of the convention to make the preliminary
arrangements. Mr. Cameron, the Chairman, was asked whether
it was his purpose to carry out the scheme I have indicated.
He refused to answer. A motion was then made that the Chairman,
after calling the convention to order, be instructed to receive
the vote of the individual delegates without regard to the
instruction of the majority of their delegation. Cameron
refused to receive motions on that question, saying that it
was a matter beyond the jurisdiction of the committee. A
large part of the entire day was spent in various attempts
to induce Cameron either to give a pledge or permit a resolution
to be entertained by the committee, instructing him as to
his action. He was supported by Mr. Gorham, of California,
who I believe was not a member of the committee, but was
present either as Secretary or as _Amicus Curiae_. He was
an experienced parliamentarian, and for a long time had been
Secretary of the Senate of the United States. The discussion
for the majority was conducted largely by Mr. Chandler, of
New Hampshire, afterward Secretary of the Navy, and later
Senator. After spending a large part of the day in that discussion,
some time in the afternoon an intimation was made, informally,
and in a rather veiled fashion, that, unless they had more
satisfactory pledges from Mr. Cameron, he would be removed
from the office of Chairman, and a person who would carry
out the wishes of the committee be substituted. The committee
then adjourned until the next morning. Meantime the Grant
managers applied to Colonel Strong, of Illinois, who had been
already appointed Sergeant-at-Arms by the committee, and
who was a supporter of Grant, to ascertain whether, if the
committee were to remove Cameron and appoint another chairman,
he would recognize him as a person entitled to call the convention
to order and preside until a temporary Chairman was chosen,
and would execute his lawful orders, or whether he would treat
them as without effect and would execute the orders of Cameron.
He desired time of consideration, which was conceded. He
consulted Senator Philetus Sawyer of Wisconsin, who was himself
in favor of General Grant, but who desired above all things
the success of the Republican Party, and was not ready for
any unlawful or revolutionary action. Mr. Sawyer was a business
man of plain manners, and though of large experience in public
life, was not much versed in parliamentary law. He called
into consultation ex-Senator Timothy O. Howe, of Wisconsin,
formerly Senator from that State, and afterward Postmaster-
General under Arthur. He was a very able and clear-headed
lawyer, and had a high reputation for integrity. He advised
Mr. Strong that the committee might lawfully depose their
Chairman and appoint another, and that it would be his duty,
as Sergeant-at-Arms, to recognize the new Chairman and obey
his lawful orders. Strong was under great obligations to
Sawyer, who had aided him very largely in business matters,
and had a high respect for his judgment. He gave his response
to the Grant leaders in accordance with the advice of Mr.
Howe, in which Senator Sawyer concurred. They had intended
to make General Creswell the President of the convention.
But finding it impossible to carry their plans into effect,
in order to prevent the severe measure of deposing the Chairman
of the committee, they consented that the assurances demanded
should be given. There was then a negotiation between the
leaders on the side of Grant and of Blaine for an agreement
upon a presiding officer. It was well known that I was not
in favor of the nomination of either. Senator Hamlin, formerly
Vice-President and then a Senator, proposed my name to Mr.
Conkling as a person likely to be impartial between the two
principal candidates. Mr. Conkling replied that such a suggestion
was an insult. Hamlin said: "I guess I can stand the insult."
But on consultation of the Grant men and the Blaine men it
was agreed that I should be selected, which was done accordingly.
I was nominated orally from the floor when Mr. Cameron called
the convention to order, and chosen temporary President by
acclamation and unanimously. As proceedings went on it was
thought best not to have any division or question as to a
permanent Chairman and it was at the proper time ordered,
also without objection, that I should act as permanent President.
But the Grant leaders were still confident. They felt sure
that none of their original votes, numbering three hundred
and more, would desert them, and that it would be impossible
for the rest of the convention, divided among so many candidates,
to agree, and that they would in the end get a majority.
I was myself exceedingly anxious on this subject. I also
felt that if the followers of Grant could get any pretext for
getting an advantage by any claim, however doubtful, that
they would avail themselves of it, even at the risk of breaking
up the convention in disorder, rather than be baffled in
their object. So the time to me was one of great and distressing
responsibility. The forces of Grant were led on the floor
of the convention by Roscoe Conkling, who nominated him in
a speech of great power and eloquence. The forces of Blaine
were led, as they had been in 1876, very skilfuly by Senators
Hale and Frye. Garfield was the leader of the supporters
of Mr. Sherman. One of the greatest oratoric triumphs I ever
witnessed was obtained by Garfield. There had been a storm
of applause, lasting, I think, twenty-five minutes, at the
close of Conkling's nominating speech. It was said there
were fifteen thousand persons in the galleries, which came
down very near the level of the floor. The scene was of indescribable
sublimity. The fate of the country, certainly the fate of
a great political party, was at stake, and, more than that,
the selection of the ruler of a nation of fifty millions of
people--a question which in other countries could not have
been determined, under like circumstances, without bloodshed
or civil war. I do not think I shall be charged with exaggeration
when I speak of it in this way. I can only compare it in
its grandeur and impressiveness to the mighty torrent of Niagara.
Perhaps I cannot give a satisfactory reason for so distinguishing
it from other like assemblies that have gathered in this country.
But I have since seen a great number of persons from all parts
of the country who were present as members or spectators,
and they all speak of it in the same way. A vast portion
of the persons present in the hall sympathized deeply with
the supporters of Grant. Conkling's speech, as he stood
almost in the centre of that great assembly on a platform
just above the heads of the convention, was a masterpiece
of splendid oratory. He began:
And when asked what State he hails from,
Our sole reply shall be,
He comes from Appomattox,
And its famous apple-tree.
It was pretty difficult for Garfield to follow this speech
in the tempest of applause which came after it. There was
nothing stimulant or romantic in the plain wisdom of John
Sherman. It was like reading a passage from "Poor Richard's
Almanac" after one of the lofty chapters of the Psalms of
David. Garfield began, quietly:
"I have witnessed the extraordinary scene of this convention
with deep solicitude. Nothing touches my heart more quickly
than a tribute of honor to a great and noble character. But
as I sat in my seat and witnessed this demonstration, this
assemblage seemed to me a human ocean in a tempest. I have
seen the sea lashed into fury and tossed into spray, and its
grandeur moves the soul of the dullest man; but I remember
that it is not the billows, but the calm level of the sea
from which all heights and depths are measured. When the
storm has passed and the hour of calm settles on the ocean,
when the sunlight bathes its peaceful surface, then the astronomer
and surveyor take the level from which they measure all terrestrial
heights and depths.
"Gentlemen of the Convention, your present temper may not
mark the healthful pulse of our people. When your enthusiasm
has passed, when the emotions of the hour have subsided, we
shall find below this storm and passion that calm level of
public opinion from which the thoughts of a mighty people
are to be measured, and by which their final action will be
determined.
"Not here, in this brilliant circle where fifteen thousand
men and women are gathered, is the destiny of the Republic
to be decreed for the next four years--not here, where I see
the enthusiastic faces of seven hundred and fifty-six delegates,
waiting to cast their lot into the urn and determine the choice
of the Republic; but by four millions of Republican firesides,
where the thoughtful voters, with wives and children about
them, with the calm thoughts inspired by love of home and
country, with the history of the past, the hopes of the future,
and reverence for the great men who have adorned and blessed
our nation in days gone by, burning in their hearts--_there_
God prepares the verdict which will determine the wisdom of
our work to-night. Not in Chicago, in the heat of June, but
at the ballot-boxes of the Republic, in the quiet of November,
after the silence of deliberate judgment, will this question
be settled."
Conkling, while exciting the admiration of all men for his
dexterity and ability, lost ground at every step. He made
a foolish attempt to compel the passage of a resolution depriving
of their rights to vote delegates who refused to pledge themselves
to support the choice of the convention whoever it might be.
His speech nominating Grant contained a sneer at Blaine. So,
while he held his forces together to the last, he made it
almost impossible for any man who differed from him in the
beginning to come to him at the end. On the contrary everything
that Garfield said was marked by good nature and good sense.
I said on the first day of the convention that in my opinion
if the delegates could be shut up by themselves and not permitted
to leave the room until they agreed, the man on whom they
would agree would be General Garfield. This desire became
more and more apparent as the convention went on. At last,
on the thirty-sixth ballot, and the sixth day of the convention,
the delegates who had previously voted for other candidates
than Grant, began to wheel into line for Garfield. Garfield
had one vote from the State of Pennsylvania in previous ballots.
But on the thirty-fourth ballot Wisconsin, the last State
to vote in alphabetical order, had given him her sixteen votes,
and on the thirty-sixth ballot she was joined by the delegates
who had voted for other candidates than Grant. Grant held
together his forces till the last, receiving three hundred
and thirteen votes on the thirty-fifth ballot, and three hundred
and six on the thirty-sixth. It was a sublime moment, which
it was hoped would determine the destiny of the Republic for
many years, a hope which was cruelly disappointed by Garfield's
untimely death. It was, as might be well believed, a moment
of sublime satisfaction to me. Garfield had been my friend
for many years. I had sat close to him in the House of Representatives
for three terms of Congressional service. He had been my
guest at my house in Worcester; and I had been his colleague
on the Electoral Commission in 1876. He had been educated
at a Massachusetts college. He was of old Middlesex County
stock. We were in thorough accord in our love for New England,
our firm faith in her hereditary principles, and our pride
in her noble history.
Garfield has been charged, in accepting the nomination for
the Presidency, with having been untrue to the interests
of John Sherman, who was the candidate of Ohio, and whom Garfield
had supported faithfully through every ballot. The charge
is absolutely unjust. Mr. Sherman's nomination was seen by
everybody to have been absolutely impossible long before the
final result. I was in constant consultation with leaders
of the different delegations who were trying to unite their
forces. There never was any considerable number of those
persons who thought the nomination of Mr. Sherman practicable,
notwithstanding the high personal respect in which they held
him. At the close of the thirty-fourth ballot, when Garfield
received seventeen votes, he rose, and the following incident
took place:
Mr. Garfield, of Ohio: "Mr. President, ----"
The President: "For what purpose does the gentleman rise?"
Mr. Garfield: "I rise to a question of order."
The President: "The gentleman from Ohio rises to a question
of order."
Mr. Garfield: "I challenge the correctness of the
announcement. The announcement contains votes for me.
No man has a right, without the consent of the person voted
for, to announce that person's name, and vote for him, in
this convention. Such consent I have not given."
The President: "The gentleman from Ohio is not stating
a question of order. He will resume his seat. No
person having received a majority of the votes cast, another
ballot will be taken. The Clerk will call the roll."
This verbatim report is absolutely correct, except that where
there is a period at the end of Mr. Garfield's last sentence
there should be a dash, indicating that the sentence was not
finished. I recollect the incident perfectly. I interrupted
him in the middle of his sentence. I was terribly afraid that
he would say something that would make his nomination impossible,
or his acceptance impossible, if it were made. I do not believe
it ever happened before that anybody who attempted to decline
the Presidency of the United States was to be prevented by
a point of order, or that such a thing will ever happen again.
During the thirtieth ballot a vote was cast by a delegate
from the Territory of Wyoming for General Philip H. Sheridan.
General Sheridan, who was upon the platform as a spectator,
came forward instantly, and said: "I am very much obliged
to the delegate from Wyoming for mentioning my name in this
convention, but there is no way in which I could accept a
nomination from this convention, if it were possible, unless
I should be permitted to turn it over to my best friend."
The President said: "The Chair presumed the unanimous consent
of the convention to permit the illustrious soldier who has
spoken to interrupt its order for its purpose. But it will
be a privilege accorded to no other person whatever." The
General's prompt suppression of this attempt to make him a
candidate was done in a direct and blunt soldierly fashion.
I did not think it best to apply to him the strictness of
parliamentary law; and in that I was sure of the approval
of the convention. But the precedent of permitting such a
body to be addressed under any circumstances by a person not
a member would be a dangerous one, if repeated. Perhaps I
may with propriety add one thing of a personal nature. It
has been sometimes charged that the delegates from Massachusetts
were without great influence in shaping the result of this
convention. They moved, and carried, against a formidable
opposition, the civil service plank, which embodied the doctrine
of civil service reform as among the doctrines of the Republican
Party. Of whatever value may be attributed to the humble
services of the President of the Convention, they are entitled
to the credit. They had, I think, more to do than any other
delegation with effecting the union upon Garfield. Of course
the wishes of Mr. Blaine had very great influence indeed.
I think he preferred Garfield to any other person except Robert
Lincoln, of Illinois, of whom he spoke to me as a person from
whom it would be impossible to keep the votes of the colored
delegates from the South, and who would be, by reason of the
respect felt for his father's memory, highly acceptable through
the country. But Mr. Lincoln, under the circumstances, could
not have got the support of his own State, and without it
it seemed unwise to attempt a union upon him.
But to continue with what is personal to myself and the delegation
from Massachusetts. When I got back to the Capitol, as I
went into the cloak-room of the Senate to leave my hat, Don
Cameron sat there surrounded by a group of interested listeners.
He was relating to them the story of the great contest. As
I approached the group he looked up and said:
"There comes Massachusetts. There were twenty-three men from
Massachusetts who went there to keep six hundred men from
doing what they wanted to. And, by God, they did it."
A few Sundays after his inauguration, during the spring session
of the Senate, President Garfield invited Mrs. Hoar and myself
to dinner at the White House. President Hopkins, his old
friend and teacher, and Mrs. Hopkins were there. There were
no other guests, except Judge Nott and his wife, President
Hopkins's daughter, President Garfield's mother, and, I think,
Mr. Archibald Hopkins, President Hopkins's son. President
Garfield asked me to remain after President Hopkins had taken
his leave. I had a long and interesting conversation with
him about his plans and purposes, and especially the difficulties
which were then showing themselves in regard to the great
New York appointments. Before I went upstairs, he gave his
arm to my wife and walked with her about the East room. He
said to her: "I hope I may live to repay your husband for
all he has done for me." Perhaps I am indulging in an unpardonable
vanity in relating this testimony of two of the most interested
parties and most competent observers as to the value of the
work of the Massachusetts delegation in that convention.
I hope that somewhere before I die I may put on record my
estimate of James A. Garfield, when I can say some things
which ought to be said, and for which there is not room in
this book and was not room in the eulogy delivered just after
his death. It is the fashion, even among his friends, to
speak of him as a person timid if not time-serving, and as
easily swayed and moulded by a strong will. I have heard
men who knew him very well say that when he led the House
on the Republican side, and had led his party into a position
which excited sharp conflict, they never could be sure that
he would not get wrong at the last moment, or have some private
understanding with the Democrats and leave his own side in
the lurch. This was attributed to moral timidity. I feel
very sure that this is a great mistake. Garfield's hesitation,
want of certainty in his convictions, liability to change
his position suddenly, were in my opinion the result of intellectual
hesitation and of a habit of going down to the roots of his
subject before he made up his mind. He had a great deference
for other men's opinions. When, after he had expressed his
opinion, some strong and positive man came to him with a confident
utterance of a different opinion, unless Garfield had gone
to the bottom of the subject himself, he was very likely to
defer, to hesitate, to think himself mistaken. But when he
had had time and had thought the thing out and made up his
mind, nobody and no consideration of personal interest or
advantage would stir him an inch. I suppose his courage and
genius as a soldier have never been questioned. He performed
some very important military exploits. He gave a thorough
investigation into the military conditions of Tennessee and
Kentucky, and his letter to the Department of War accomplished
a great deal toward putting things in a better way. He was
a thorough lover of his country. He hesitated long as to
the doctrine of protection, and undoubtedly made some inconsistent
utterances before he took the ground which he held at last. But
he studied the financial question, especially the great subjects
of currency and the standard of value, to the very bottom.
He stood like a rock when Ohio and the whole West seemed to
be going against him, and when the statesmanship even of John
Sherman was of the willow and not of the oak. When his District
Convention met and passed resolutions in favor of paying interest
on the Government bonds with paper, Garfield declared that
he would not take the nomination on such a platform. The
good fight he made in Ohio turned the scale in that great
struggle. I do not believe he wold have been a tool or servant
in the Presidency. He would have mastered for himself the
great subjects to be dealt with in our foreign policy, as
well as in domestic administration and legislation. His will
would, in my opinion, if he had been spared to us, have been
the dominant will in our Government for eight fortunate and
happy years. Next to the assassination of Lincoln, his death
was the greatest national misfortune ever caused to this country
by the loss of a single life.
I have not the slightest respect for the suggestion that
General Garfield in the least violated his honor or good
faith in consenting to accept the nomination after he had
been elected as a delegate in the interest of Mr. Sherman.
The office of the President is not personal. There can be
no such thing as a personal claim upon it, or a personal
obligation in regard to it. President Garfield got no advantage
whatever from the fact that he had favored Mr. Sherman. Mr.
Sherman's nomination was an impossibility from the beginning.
That the majority of the convention united upon Garfield was
due to the fact that he had no enemies or antagonists in the
convention or among the people and, to some degree undoubtedly,
also to the admiration felt by his fellow-delegates for the
tact, sense and good nature which he showed in its discussions--
qualities which were in marked contrast with those of his
very able and powerful antagonist, Mr. Conkling.
Beside, when the voting for Garfield in the Convention began,
a dispatch was received from Mr. Sherman urging his friends
to unite in Garfield's support. That was before Garfield
had taken any action, except an earnest attempt to decline
the nomination which, as I have already stated, was suppressed
by a peremptory exercise of the authority of the chair.
I have given more than once my estimate of James A. Garfield,
although not as fully as I should like. Shortly after his
death I delivered a eulogy before the people of Worcester
at the request of the City Government. I was asked by John
Sherman, who more than anybody else had the matter in charge,
to deliver the eulogy before the two Houses of Congress. But
Mr. Sherman had spoken without due authority. The Committee
of the two Houses determined to invite Mr. Blaine, then Secretary
of State. That arrangement was required by every consideration
of propriety, and was in all respects the best possible. Mr.
Blaine's address on Garfield is one of the treasures of our
literature. It would have been a great public misfortune
if that noble oration had been lost to the world.
I knew Garfield very intimately. For six of the eight years
I served in the House with him my seat was so near his that
we could converse with each other in whispers. By a singular
chapter of accidents our families had been closely associated
in several generations, although neither of us knew it until
long after our friendship began.
The land of Captain John Sherman and the land of Captain John
Prescott, both my ancestors on the mother's side, adjoined
the land of Edward Garfield, the ancestor of the President,
in Watertown. His land lay on both sides of what is now the
line between Waltham and Watertown. Captain Benjamin Garfield,
who may be properly called the founder of Waltham, was the
leader of an earnest and protracted controversy in Watertown
in which my great-great-grandfather, Joseph Sherman, was leader
on the other side.
Lieutenant Thomas Garfield, another of the President's ancestors
in the direct line, built a house in that part of Watertown,
afterward Weston, which later still was incorporated with
parts of Concord and Lexington as the town of Lincoln. He
and his son Thomas were among the first incorporators, of
whom my great-grandfather, John Hoar, was also one. Thomas
Garfield built a house now standing at the end of a grass-
grown lane about forty rods from the high road leading from
Lincoln to Waltham and about two miles south from the centre
of Lincoln. It is a secluded spot of great beauty. The house,
a square, unpainted, two-story house with a great chimney
in the middle, stands surrounded by old elms and apple trees,
in a tract of fertile meadow, with the Lincoln hill in the
distance. This estate passed from Lieutenant Thomas Garfield
to his son Thomas, Jr., from him to his daughter Rebecca,
wife of David Fiske, from her to her son Elijah Fiske, and
from him to his children. One of these children married my
cousin. I attended the wedding in my boyhood in the old Garfield
house.
Abram Garfield, son of the second Thomas, the President's
great-uncle, from whom his middle name came to him, was a
soldier at Concord Bridge on the 19th of April, 1775, in the
Lincoln Company of which my grandfather, Samuel Hoar, was
Lieutenant and my two great-grandfathers served as privates.
The depositions of Abram Garfield and John Hoar as to the
facts of the Concord fight were taken with others by the patriots
and sent to England for their vindication. This Abram Garfield
died in the summer of 1775, a few months after the battle
at Concord. His grave, with that of his father and grandfather,
the President's direct ancestors, is close to the graves of
my own ancestors in the Lincoln burial-ground.
The President's great-grandfather settled in Westminster.
His land was close by the land of my wife's great-grandfather,
and not far from the spot where her father was born. His
house is still standing in Westminster. My grandfather's
uncle, Daniel Hoar, was one of the founders of that town and
owned land not far off.
So our friendship came by lawful inheritance. I discovered
myself many of these facts relating to his ancestry which
had been previously unknown to him. I have from him a letter
written the day before he was assassinated in which he promises
after visiting Williams College and the White Mountains to
meet me at Concord and to spend the night with my brother
there and visit the dwelling and burial places of his ancestors
in Lincoln and then to come to Worcester as my guest.
James A. Garfield was a man of indefatigable industry and
vast information. He seemed constantly possessed by an intelligent
curiosity in regard to all subjects. He had a tenacious memory.
Its stores were always ready at hand for his use on all occasions.
There has been no man in public life in my time, except Charles
Sumner, who was always so glad to render any service in his
power to literature and science. He was a great friend of
the Congressional Library, and helped largely to increase
its appropriations. I got his powerful aid in procuring the
purchase of the Margry papers, at the instance of Parkman,
the historian.
During Garfield's service in the House he was the leader
of its best thought. Everything he did and said manifested
the serious, reverent love of excellence. He was ever grave,
earnest, addressing himself only to the reason and conscience
of his auditors. You will search his speeches in vain for
an appeal to a base motive or an evil passion. He was remarkably
independent in forming his judgments and inflexible in adhering
to them on all grand and essential questions. His friend
and Commander, General Thomas, whose stubborn courage saved
the day in the battle for the possession of Tennessee, was
well called The Rock of Chickamauga. In the greater battle
in 1876 for the Nation's honor Garfield well deserves to be
called The Rock of Ohio. There has been hardly any single
service to this country in recent times greater than that
rendered by him when he stood against the fiat money movement
in Ohio.
CHAPTER XXIX
FOUR NATIONAL CONVENTIONS
1884
It happened to me again to be put at the head of the Massachusetts
delegation in the convention of 1884. The leading candidates
were Mr. Blaine and President Arthur. Mr. Arthur had, in
many respects, made a very satisfactory President. He was
a man of pleasant manners and skilled in the subtle ways of
New York politicians. He had been one of the chief representatives
of a faction in the Republican Party, and he never seemed
able to shake off the influences which had surrounded him
before his election. At a dinner shortly after he was chosen
Vice-President, he made an apparently approving allusion to
what he called the use of soap, which was understood to mean
the use of money for corrupt purposes. He made a fatal mistake,
as it always seemed to me, in permitting the resignation of
President Garfield's Cabinet and filling their places with
men who, like himself, belonged to the Grant faction. If
he had said that he would not allow the act of an assassin
to make a change in the forces that were to control the Administration
so far as could be helped and that he would carry into effect
the purposes of his predecessor, wherever he could in conscience
do so, he would have maintained himself in the public esteem.
But that was not his only mistake. Inconsiderately he lent
himself to the popular prejudice against the policy of river
and harbor improvements, and, in vetoing a bill passed by
large majorities in both Houses of Congress, he sent in a
message in which he said in substance that the more corrupt
the measure the more votes it was likely to get in Congress.
When in the next winter he was asked to specify the objectionable
items in the bill he had vetoed, which appropriated about
$18,000,000, he was able to point out less than five per cent.
of all the appropriations which he could say he thought were
for purposes not required by the interests of international
or interstate commerce. And his claim was thoroughly refuted
even in regard to the items which he specified. He also
made some very bad appointments, which deeply offended the
best Republican sentiment in many of the States. It is a
little singular that the appointment of the Collector of
the Port of Boston should have cost two Presidents of the
United States a renomination. Yet so it is. The old feeling
in Massachusetts that it was not, on the whole, desirable
to nominate Mr. Blaine existed in great strength. The business
men liked Arthur. They thought their interests were safe
with him. But the honest Republican sentiment of Massachusetts
was deeply outraged by the appointment to the office of Collector
of Boston, of Mr. Roland Worthington, against the protest
of her Senators and Representatives in Congress. He had been
known only as an unscrupulous supporter of General Butler,
and as the editor of a scurrilous newspaper which bitterly
attacked the opponents of that person even where they were
honest and trusted Republicans. To give this place to Mr.
Worthington the President refused to reappoint Mr. Beard,
who had made an admirable Collector, and who was supported
by a large majority of the best men of Boston. It was believed
that this appointment had been made in exchange for assurances
of General Butler's support in the approaching election.
Worthington made a poor Collector, and, at the State election
after his appointment, voted for Butler against the candidate
of the Republican Party. But for the indignation caused by
this appointment, I think the delegation from Massachusetts,
with three exceptions, would have supported Mr. Arthur for
reelection. There would have been no movement for Mr. Edmunds,
and but for that movement Mr. Arthur would have received
the Republican nomination. Upon the final ballot the vote
of Massachusetts was seven for Arthur, three for Blaine and
eighteen for Edmunds.
A somewhat interesting incident occurred which shows the depth
of a feeling, which I think was largely a prejudice, which
is still manifesting itself as a disturbing element in American
politics. There was a great desire on the part of those who
were opposed to both Arthur and Blaine, to find a candidate
upon whom they could unite, of such popularity and national
distinction as to make it impossible for the managers for
these candidates to hold their forces together. We thought
that General Sherman was the person that we wanted. It was
known that he had written a letter to Mr. Blaine declining
to have his name used, and that a telegram had been received
from him by a delegate during the session of the convention
to the same effect. But it was thought that if he were once
nominated he would find it impossible to decline, and that
his previous refusal would be an element of strength and not
of weakness in the country. After the adjournment, which
was at 11:45 A. M., on Friday, June 6, the day before the
balloting, I made an arrangement to meet Mr. George William
Curtis, the Chairman of the New York delegation, and one or
two other gentlemen of the same way of thinking, from one
or two other States, and we agreed that when the convention
came in again we would cast the votes of our delegates who
agreed with us for General Sherman. I had been authorized
by a large majority of the Massachusetts delegation to have
this interview, and I knew that I represented their opinions,
although they had not, all of them, spoken to me about General
Sherman. When I got back to the next meeting of the convention,
I made known to them what I had done. I was told by several
of them that they would stand by me, but that it would cause
great dissatisfaction when they got home.
"What is the matter?" I said. "Our people do not want a Father
Confessor in the White House," was the answer. Although General
Sherman was a Protestant, it is well known that his wife was
a Catholic. Soon after, Mr. Curtis came over to my seat and
said: "Mr. Hoar, I cannot carry out our agreement." "What
is the matter?" said I. "There is an insurrection in the
New York delegation," was his reply. "They do not want a
Father Confessor in the White House." So we agreed we should
have to give it up. When I came back to Washington, I called
at John Sherman's house and talked over the convention with
him. I told him the story I have just related. He said he
was not surprised, and that he believed the unwillingness
to have the religious faith of his wife made matter of public
discussion had a good deal to do with his brother's refusal to
permit himself to be a candidate.
While the convention of 1884 did not nominate the candidate
favored by the Republicans of Massachusetts, the action of
the State, in my opinion, was decisive in defeating the nomination
of President Arthur. But for that there would have been no
movement for Edmunds, and his support would have gone to the
President. Mr. Blaine, who was nominated, was defeated at
the election. The event proved him a much stronger candidate
than I had supposed, and his subsequent career in the Department
of State, I believe, satisfied a majority of his countrymen
that he would have made an able and discreet President. I
suppose it would hardly be denied now by persons acquainted
with the details of the management of the Democratic campaign,
at any rate I have heard the fact admitted by several very
distinguished Democrats, members of the Senate of the United
States, that the plurality of the vote of New York was really
cast for Mr. Blaine, and that he was unjustly deprived of
election by the fraud at Long Island City by which votes cast
for the Butler Electoral Ticket were counted for Cleveland.
I suppose also that but for the utterances of a foolish clergyman
named Burchard, Mr. Blaine's majority in that State would
have been so large that these frauds would have been ineffectual.
CHAPTER XXX
FOUR NATIONAL CONVENTIONS
1888
In 1888 there was a very strong, almost irresistible feeling
among Republicans in the country that Blaine should be put
in nomination again, although he had peremptorily and publicly
refused to be a candidate. He was travelling abroad during
that year. His mental vigor was unabated, as was shown by
his answer to Cleveland's free trade message, which was cabled
across the ocean and reached the people almost as soon as
the message. But the disease of which he afterward died was
then upon him, as was known to some few of his intimate friends.
Besides that, he had had an attack at Milan, which deprived
him for a good while of the use of his limbs on one side.
In 1892 I was in the care, at Milan, of a man who I suppose
was the most eminent physician in the north of Italy, Dr.
Fornoni, who gave me an account of Mr. Blaine's illness in
the very apartments where I was ill, and which Blaine had
occupied before me. But when the convention came together
they were so eager to nominate Blaine that he was obliged
to send another cable, I think, from Paris, insisting that
his wishes should be respected. There was a great diversity
of opinion as to candidates, but little of the eager antagonism
that had characterized the preceding convention. The Republican
Party had been sobered a good deal by four years of adversity.
The delegates from Massachusetts where:
_At Large._--George F. Hoar, Worcester; Henry S. Hyde, West
Springfield; Frederick L. Burden, North Attleboro; Alanson
W. Beard, Boston.
_District._--Frank S. Stevens, Swansea; Jonathan Bourne,
New Bedford; William H. Bent, Taunton; Eben L. Ripley, Hingham;
Arthur W. Tufts, Boston; Edward P. Wilbur, Boston; Jesse M.
Gove, Boston; Charles J. Noyes, Boston; Edward D. Hayden,
Woburn; Elmer H. Capen, Somerville; William B. Littlefield,
Lynn; Samuel W. McCall, Winchester; William Cogswell, Salem;
William E. Blunt, Haverhill; Joseph L. Sargent, Dracut; George
S. Merrill, Lawrence; J. Henry Gould, Medford; David Farquhar,
Newton; William A. Gile, Worcester; George L. Gibbs, Northbridge;
John W. Wheeler, Orange; John G. Mackintosh, Holyoke; Emerson
Gaylord, Chicopee; and William M. Prince, Pittsfield.
I was very desirous that the vote of Massachusetts should
be given to John Sherman. He was, except Mr. Blaine, unquestionably
the most distinguished living Republican statesman. He had
been an able champion of the opinions which the Republicans
of Massachusetts held, and of the policies under which her
special industries had been fostered. To nominate him would
be to go back to the early habit of placing the greatest and
wisest statesmen of the country in its highest offices. But
I could not get the majority of the Massachusetts delegation
to come to my way of thinking. General Coggswell, a very
able and accomplished member of the House of Representatives,
and Mr. Edward D. Hayden, also a member of the House--a
service which he left greatly to the regret of his own constituents
and the people of the State--seemed to have very strong objections
indeed to Mr. Sherman. The delegation very kindly offered
before the first ballot, and again just before the fourth
or fifth ballot, to present my name as the candidate of Massachusetts.
It would have been a very great honor to have received such
a vote from Massachusetts. I was told also by gentlemen from
other States, who spoke to me about it, that I should have
had a considerable vote from other parts of the country. I
had quite a number of very intimate friends in the convention
from States outside of Massachusetts. I thought then, and
think now, though that is a matter of conjecture, that I should
have got about seventy votes. But I thought my nomination
out of the question. I thought also that it would be utterly
inexpedient, if it could be accomplished. And I thought also
that the office of a Senator from Massachusetts would be
more agreeable to me, and better adapted to my capacity than
that of the President of the United States. Still the temptation
to get the high compliment and honor of such a vote was very
strong indeed. But there were thirteen of our delegation
of twenty-eight, who were willing to vote with me for Mr.
Sherman. If I had consented to the subtraction of their votes
from his column on the first ballot, it would have made a
serious diminution of his strength.
If I had consented to the same thing on a later ballot it
would have put him in the position of having his forces diminishing
and falling away. I thought I ought not, for a mere empty
honor to myself, to permit such an injury to be inflicted
upon him, although I confess I did not then think his nomination
likely. But while the Massachusetts delegation does not seem
to me to have exerted a very decisive influence upon the result
of that convention, it came very near it. After several ineffectual
ballotings, in which the votes of the different States were
divided among several candidates, the convention took a recess
at twelve o'clock to four o'clock of the same day. Immediately
a meeting was called by a number of gentlemen representing
different delegations in a room in the building where the
convention was held, for consultation, and to see if they
could agree upon a candidate. The Massachusetts delegation
had authorized me to cast their vote as a unit for any candidate
whom I should think best, whom sixteen of the delegates--
being one more than a majority--approved. I had ascertained
their opinion. While as I said there were but thirteen at
most who would support Sherman, considerably more than sixteen
were willing to support either Harrison or Allison, and perhaps
one or two others, who had been prominently mentioned, including,
I think, Mr. Depew, although of that I am not certain. We
met as I said. The New York delegation had authorized its
vote to be cast unanimously for any person on whom the four
delegates at large, Platt, Miller, Depew and Hiscock, representing
different shades of opinion in the Republican Party of that
State, should agree. Three of these gentlemen, Platt, Miller
and Hiscock, were present at the meeting. Mr. Quay, Chairman
of the Pennsylvania delegation, was also authorized to cast
the vote of the entire delegation as he should think fit.
Mr. Spooner of Wisconsin, Chairman of the Wisconsin delegation,
was present with a like authority. Mr. Farwell, Chairman
of the Illinois delegation, was present with a like authority
from his State. Mr. Clarkson, Chairman of the Iowa delegation,
was present with authority to vote for Mr. Allison from the
beginning. De Young, of California, thought he could speak
for his people, though I believe without claiming authority
from them. Filley, of Missouri, was also present. There
were several other gentlemen of influence, though not all
of them delegates, and not all of them entitled to speak for
their States, but feeling able to assure the company that
their States would accede to whatever agreement might be made
there. The names of several candidates were discussed. I
made a very earnest speech in favor of Mr. Allison, setting
forth what I thought were the qualities that would make him
a popular candidate, and would make him an able and wise President.
Finally, all agreed that their States should vote for Mr.
Allison when the convention came in in the afternoon. Depew,
as I have said, was absent. But his three colleagues said
there could be no doubt that he would agree to their action,
and there would be no difficulty about New York. We thought
it best as a matter of precaution, to meet again a half-hour
before the coming in of the convention, to make sure the thing
was to go through all right. I suppose that everybody in
that room when he left it felt as certain as of any event
in the future that Mr. Allison would be nominated in the convention.
But when we met at the time fixed, the three delegates at
large from New York said they were sorry they could not carry
out their engagement. Mr. Depew, who had been supported as
a candidate by his State in the earlier ballots, had made
a speech withdrawing his name. But when the action of the
meeting was reported to him, he said he had been compelled
to withdraw by the opposition of the Agrarian element, which
was hostile to railroads. He was then President of the New
York Central and Hudson River Railroad Company. He said that
his opposition to him came largely from Iowa, and from the
Northwest, where was found the chief support of Allison; that
while he had withdrawn his own name, he would not so far submit
to such an unreasonable and socialistic sentiment as to give
his consent that it should dictate a candidate for the Republican
Party. The three other delegates at large were therefore
compelled to refuse their support to the arrangement which
had been conditionally agreed upon, and the thing fell through.
If it had gone on, New York, Illinois, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania,
Massachusetts, Iowa, California, and perhaps Missouri, would
have cast their votes unanimously for Allison, and his nomination
would have been sure. I think no other person ever came so
near the Presidency of the United States, and missed it.
The result was the nomination of Mr. Harrison. It was a nomination
quite agreeable to me. I had sat near him in the Senate for
six years, my seat only separated from his by that of John
Sherman, who, for a large part of the time, had been President
pro tempore. So Sherman's seat was not then occupied and
Harrison and I were next neighbors. I had become very intimate
with him, and had learned to respect him highly as a very
able, upright and wise man, although he developed, as President,
an ability which I think his most intimate friends had not
known before. Our relations then, and afterward, were exceedingly
cordial. He was a wise, pure, upright and able President,
and an eloquent orator, capable of uttering great truths in
a great way, and able to bring them home to the understanding
and conviction of his countrymen. He lacked what gave Mr.
Blaine so great a charm, the quality of an agreeable and gracious
manner. He had little tact in dealing with individuals. If
a man travelled three thousand miles across the continent
to say something to President Harrison, he would find himself
broken in upon two minutes after the conversation began with
a lecture in which the views in opposition to his were vigorously,
and, sometimes roughly, set forth. He did this even when
he was of the same way of thinking and meant to grant the
gentleman's request. Blaine would refuse a request in a way
that would seem like doing a favor. Harrison would grant
a request in a way which seemed as if he were denying it.
An eminent Western Senator said to me once what, of course,
was a great exaggeration, that if Harrison were to address
an audience of ten thousand men, he would capture them all.
But if each one of them were presented to him in private,
he would make him his enemy.
However, in spite of all this the country was safe with him.
While his hand was on the helm she would keep the course of
safety, of honor, of glory, of prosperity, of republican liberty.
There would be no fear for the future of the country if we
were sure to have in the great office of President a succession
of Benjamin Harrisons.
This fault of his is a fault apt to beset good and honest
men, especially when they are under the burden of great anxieties
and cares. Such men at such times are intent upon the object
to be accomplished. They are not thinking of personal considerations,
of making friends or allies, or of the impression they are
making for themselves upon mankind. But they need to learn
a lesson. It is a lesson which many of them learn very late
in life, that many a good cause has been jeopardized or lost
by this infirmity of men who are leaders on the righteous
side. There is written on the walls of one of the great English
schools a legend which I suppose has been there for seven
hundred years: "Manners Makyth Man." It is a curious fact,
however, that this legend illustrates a portrait of a pig.
But while public men ought to be made to see how great a thing
this is, the people ought to learn how little a thing it is--
how insignificant are these foibles, irritable temper, habits
of personal discourtesy, impatience, even vanity and self-
confidence, compared with the great things that concern the
character, the welfare, and the glory of the State. I beg
to assure my readers that I make these observations partly
as a critic and partly as a penitent.
I wrote to Benjamin Harrison after the Presidential campaign
of 1896, urging him to consent to come to the Senate from
Indiana, citing the example of Presidents Adams and Johnson,
both of whom came back to public life after they had been
President, although Mr. Johnson did not live to render any
service in the Senate.
In my letter I expressed my sense of the great value of what
he had done in the campaign. In reply I got the following
letter. Nobody who reads it will doubt that the man who wrote
it had a kind and affectionate heart.
November 10, 1896
674 NORTH DELAWARE STREET,
INDIANAPOLIS, IND.
_My dear Senator:_
It is very kind of you to take note of my work in the campaign,
and I value very highly what you say of it--though your friendship
has perhaps, in some degree, spoiled your judgment. I am
thoroughly tired of the cares and excitements incident to
public life in our country. To you I may say that the people
of this state seem to be more strongly attached to me than
ever. I never appear before an audience that I am not deeply
moved by the demonstrations of the affectionate interest of
my home people.
Possibly they would send me to the Senate this winter if I
should intimate a willingness to take the place, but I do
not feel that I can, and have said so.
If I could believe that any exigency in public affairs called
for me, then my personal wishes would be subservient--but
it is not so. My own belief is that as a free citizen I can
do more towards giving a right direction to public affairs
than I could as a Senator.
. . . . . . . . . . .
My wife joins me in the desire to be kindly remembered to
Mrs. Hoar.
Most sincerely your friend,
BENJAMIN HARRISON.
Hon. George F. Hoar,
Worcester, Mass.
I had a great many interesting experiences of Harrison's
roughness of manner and honesty and kindness of heart, which
it would not be right to relate here. But I may mention two
or three.
When the term of General Corse, the Democratic Postmaster
at Boston, expired, Mr. Dawes and I earnestly recommended
that he should be reappointed. He was, with one or two exceptions,
the most eminent living veteran of the Civil War. He was
the hero of one of its noted exploits. "Hold the Fort" had
made him famous in song and story. The business men of Boston,
without distinction of party, were satisfied with him, and
recommended that he be continued in the service. There was
an association of the principal trades, nineteen in number,
in which each trade had three representatives, making fifty-
seven in all. Of these fifty-four were Republicans, and three
were Democrats. Fifty-four, though not the same fifty-four,
recommended the continuance of General Corse in the service.
He was recommended by the Republican members from Boston in
the Massachusetts Senate, and by most of those in the House,
and by several of the Republican members of Congress, whose
districts contained a part of the territory served by the
office.
President Harrison almost angrily refused to reappoint Corse.
He said that while Marshals were being murdered in Florida,
and the execution of the law resisted, he would appoint no
man to public office who either sympathized with such things,
or belonged to a party that did not oppose and resist them.
I said to him: "Mr. President, how do you reconcile this
with your declaration that no man would be removed from public
office for political reasons?" The President was quite angry,
and showed his anger in his reply. I said: "Good morning,
Mr. President," and took my leave, also quite angry. But
in a moment or two I went back, and said: "Mr. President,
if you think there is a man in the country who has a higher
regard for you, or a more sincere desire for your success
than I have, I will never come here again." Mr. Harrison
said, very pleasantly, "I know that very well, Mr. Hoar."
And the difference ended as quickly as it began.
President Harrison sent for me in a few days, and said he
had made up his mind not to appoint Corse, but would appoint
any Republican I would nominate. I gave a list of six names,
of which that of Mayor Thomas H. Hart stood at the head. Next
to him was that of Col. Horace Rockwell. Next to him was
Wm. A. Russell. I selected Mr. Russell on account of his
eminent business capacity, and also because I knew that both
the President and Postmaster-General had great regard for
him. I told him at the same time that I did not believe Mr.
Russell would accept the office. Next to him was Samuel W.
McCall, and the fifth name was that of John W. Candler. Next
came Congressman Frank W. Rockwell. A messenger was sent
to Boston that afternoon. He got there before daylight the
next morning, and found Mr. Russell was absent on a long
journey to the South. It was not thought the chances of
his acceptance made it worth while to keep the office open.
So it was offered to Mr. Hart, who accepted it.
Pretty soon afterward there came a vacancy in the United
States Circuit Court for the First Judicial Circuit by the
resignation of Judge Lowell. I desired to have Judge Putnam,
of Maine, succeed him. He, too, was a Democrat. I did not
know exactly what to do about it, after my experience in the
post-office matter. So I saw Judge Gray of the Supreme Court,
who had a high regard for Putnam, and asked him if he would
be willing to recommend him to the President. Judge Gray
said he would do it if the President applied to him for advice.
But he was not willing to offer such advice unasked. He agreed,
however, that I might say that Judge Lowell was about to resign,
and that when the matter came up, if the President desired
to know Judge Gray's opinion, he would be very happy to give
it. The resignation took effect in the vacation of Congress.
The President invited Judge Gray to come to see him, and
determined to accept his advice. When I got to Washington
in December, President Harrison sent for me and said: "Mr.
Hoar, I have pretty much made up my mind to appoint Judge
Putnam to the Circuit Court, if you approve." I said: "Mr.
President, I heartily approve. But I shall look with some
curiosity to see how you answer the excellent argument you
made against the appointment of a Democrat to office when
General Corse's term expired," to which Harrison burst out
into hearty laughter; and both incidents closed.
When the bill for rebuilding the William and Mary College
building, which had been destroyed during the war, was passed,
President Tyler and several other gentlemen interested in
the College, were very anxious lest the President should refuse
to sign it. They came to Washington to ask me to go with
them to see him. This I did. I told him the history of the
College, giving a list of the famous men who were graduated
from there. I spoke of the great affection that had inspired
the people of Virginia for centuries, and reminded him that
his own ancestor, General Washington's friend, General Benjamin
Harrison of the Revolution, had been a child of the College,
and I pointed out what a measure of reconcilement it would
be. The President listened with a rather disgusted look,
until I got through, and just as I rose to take my leave,
said: "Mr. Hoar, have you got any reasons except sentimental
ones?" I said I had no others, except those I had stated.
The gentlemen went out very down-hearted, and said when they
got out that of course he would veto the bill. I said: "I
think I know the man pretty well, and I think there is more
than an even chance that he will sign it," and he did.
Just before his term of office ended, he was in the President's
Room, at the Capitol, to dispose of bills when there was not
time to take them to the White House before the hour of twelve
o'clock, on the 4th of March. Many measures had been passed
within an hour of the time of adjournment, among them a bill
for the relief of the widow of Jefferson Davis. She had written
a Memoir of her husband, on the sale of which it was understood
she depended for her livelihood in her advancing years. But
the publishers had neglected a technicality which, if the
decision of one Circuit Judge were good law, made the copyright
void. So she was at the mercy of her publishers, and it was
feared that they meant to take advantage of the defect. She
applied through General Gordon, then a member of the Senate,
to Congress for relief. A bill passed the two Houses, which
I had drawn, providing that where the copies required by law
to be deposited in the Library of Congress, had not been so
deposited within the time required by law, the author of the
book might deposit them at a later time, and the copyright
should not be rendered void. This was made a general law.
Just before twelve o'clock, when the Senators were in their
seats ready for the inauguration of President Harrison's successor,
which was to take place in about ten minutes, General Gordon
came to me in great distress, saying: "The Attorney-General
says the President means to refuse to sign that bill and that
he can do nothing with him. Can you help us?" I had devised
the plan, and had got it through the Senate. I went into
the President's Room with General Gordon and said to the President
that I wanted to speak to him about that bill, and began my
story when he broke in upon me, very uncivilly, and said:
"We cannot pass laws to take care of hard individual cases."
I said: "No, Mr. President, we cannot pass laws to take care
of individual cases, but where a general law is just and proper,
it is no objection to it that it also affords relief in a
case of individual injustice." The President made some remark
to the effect that the people of the North would not like
that we should go out of our way to help the widow of Jefferson
Davis. I had not told my story, nor stated my reasons. I
said quite angrily: "Well, Mr. President, if you will not
hear me, I will stop now." I made my bow and withdrew from
the circle. The President called after me: "Mr. Hoar, I
will hear you." Whereupon I told my story. But there was
no sign of relenting upon his grim countenance. I went back
to my seat with General Gordon, who had accompanied me. He
tore off a piece of an order of exercises for the Inauguration,
and handed it to a page, telling him to give it to a friend
of Mrs. Davis, who was outside. He had written on it: "He
won't sign the bill." Just after the page had departed, the
Attorney-General came up and told us that the President had
signed the bill. General Gordon called back the page. I
asked him to give me the torn fragment of the order of exercises,
on which he had written the message, which I have kept as
a memorial of the transaction, and of him. Perhaps I may
be pardoned for adding that General Gordon came to me just
afterward with great emotion, and said, "Hoar, save my allegiance
to the Democratic Party, I want you to know that you own me."
These stories may seem trifling. But such trifles sometimes
give an idea of the character of men like Harrison more than
their greater actions.
Benjamin Harrison many times thought rashly and spoke hastily.
But he acted always, so far as I knew, under the impulse of
a warm, kind and brave heart, and of a great and wise intellect.
Some of my Southern brethren have spoken of me with undeserved
kindness in recent years, and they like to say that my heart
has softened within the last few years, and that I have become
more tolerant and less harsh and bigoted than I was of old.
Some Northern papers have taken the same view. What I did
to secure the rebuilding of the William and Mary building,
and to establish the policy of restoring at National cost
all the property of institutions of education, charity and
religion destroyed at the South, both of which were in the
beginning opposed by the almost unanimous sentiment of my
party associates, was done in the first and second terms of
my service in the House of Representatives, now thirty-five
years ago. A Boston newspaper published a series of articles
denouncing me as a bitter partisan and a bigoted and intolerant
hater of the people of the South, some years ago. That very
week I received a letter from Mrs. Jefferson Davis thanking
me for what I had done to save her from privation in her old
age; a telegram from the authorities of William and Mary College,
thanking me for my service in accomplishing the rebuilding
of the College; and a personal call from Judge Howell E. Jackson,
of Tennessee, a Southern Democrat and Confederate, thanking
me for what I had done toward procuring his appointment as
Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.
These things all happened in the same year, I believe, certainly
in a very short time after I had done what I could to induce
the reappointment of General Corse and the selection of Judge
Putnam.
I freely admit that I have believed with all my heart and
soul in the principles of the Republican Party. But I think
there can be found few members of that party who have been
less controlled in their public actions by violent partisanship
than I have.
CHAPTER XXXI
SATURDAY CLUB
In 1877, about the time of my election to the Senate, I was
chosen a member of the famous Saturday Club. I always attended
the meetings when I could be in Boston until after the death
of my brother, when every man who was a member when I was
chosen was dead, except Mr. Norton and Judge Gray and the
younger Agassiz and Mr. Howells, and all of them had ceased
to be constant attendants.
They used to meet at the Parker House in Boston once a month.
Each member was at liberty to bring a guest.
I suppose there was never a merely social club with so many
famous men in it or another where the conversation was more
delightful since that to which Johnson and Burke and Goldsmith
and Garrick and Reynolds belonged. There was plenty of sparkling
wit and repartee and plenty of serious talk from philosophers
and men of letters and science. Agassiz and Jeffries Wyman
would sometimes debate Darwin's theory of evolution, which
Darwin had confided to Asa Gray, another member, long before
he made it known to the public. Holmes and Lowell contributed
their wit, and Judge Hoar, whom Lowell declared the most brilliant
man in conversation he had ever known, his shrewd Yankee sense
and his marvellous store of anecdote. Some of the greatest
members, notably Emerson and Longfellow and Whittier, were
in general quite silent. But it was worth going a thousand
miles if but to see one of them, or to hear the tones of his
voice.
In the beginning I suspected Dr. Holmes of getting himself
ready for the talk at the dinner as for a lecture. But I
soon found that was utterly unjust. He was always as good
if a new subject were brought up, which he could not have
expected and which was wholly out of the range of his experience.
His stream was abundant and sparkling and clear, whenever
you might tap the cask. "Take another glass of wine, Judge,"
he said to one of the members who was starting near midnight
to drive twenty miles in the cold rain of autumn, "Take another
glass of wine; it will shorten the distance and double the
prospect."
Dr. Holmes and I were born on the same day of the year, although
I was seventeen years behind him. I sent to the delightful
Autocrat the following note which reached him on the morning
of his eightieth birthday.
WORCESTER, Aug. 28th, 89.
_My dear Dr. Holmes:_ Let me add my salutation to those
of so many of your countrymen, and so many who are not your
countrymen, save in the republic of letters, on your birthday.
You may well be amused to think how many political reputations
have risen and set during your long and sunny reign. I was
led to think of this by the fact that my own birthday also
comes Aug. 29th. But alas!
Consules sunt quotannis et novi proconsules,
Solus aut Rex aut Poeta non quotannis nascitur.
Of Governors and Senators we have an annual crop. But Autocrats
and Poets come but once in eighty years. The asteroids must
not envy the Georgium Sides his orbit of fourscore years,
but rather rejoice in his beneficent and cheerful light,
and in the certainty that it will keep on shining so long
as there is a star in the sky.
I am
Faithfully yours
GEO. F. HOAR.
I got the following pleasant reply:
BEVERLY FARMS, MASS., August 30, 1889.
_My dear Mr. Hoar,_
Your note of felicitation upon my having reached that "length
of days" which Wisdom, if I remember correctly, holds in her
right hand, was the first I received and is the first I answer.
Briefly, of course, but with heartfelt sincerity, for I hardly
thought that you whose hand is on the wheel that governs the
course of the Nation, would find time to remember so small
an event as my birthday.
You cannot doubt that it was a great pleasure to me to read
your name at the bottom of a page containing so much that
it was kind in you to write and most agreeable for me to read.
Please accept my warmest and most grateful acknowledgments,
and believe me
Faithfully yours,
OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.
NAMES OF THE MEMBERS OF THE SATURDAY CLUB WHEN I
USED TO ATTEND ITS MEETINGS.
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Francis Parkman,
Edwin P. Whipple, Alexander Agassiz,
Horatio Woodman, R. H. Dana,
John S. Dwight, Wolcott Gibbs,
Samuel G. Ward, Horace Gray,
R. H. Dana, Jr., Edward N. Perkins,
Louis Agassiz, Asa Gray,
Benjamin Pierce, W. D. Howells,
J. R. Lowell, Edmund Quincy,
H. W. Longfellow, E. L. Godkin,
J. L. Motley, William B. Rogers,
C. C. Felton, William Amory,
O. W. Holmes, James Freeman Clarke,
E. R. Hoar, Phillips Brooks,
William H. Prescott, William W. Story,
John G. Whittier, George F. Hoar,
Nathaniel Hawthorne, John Lowell,
T. G. Appleton, O. W. Holmes, Jr.,
J. M. Forbes, Theodore Lyman,
Charles E. Norton, William James,
J. Elliot Cabot, Francis A. Walker,
Samuel G. Howe, Charles F. Adams, Jr.,
Frederick H. Hedge, F. L. Olmsted,
Estes Howe, R. Pumpelly,
Charles Sumner, H. H. Richardson,
Henry James, William Endicott, Jr.,
Martin Brimmer, William C. Endicott,
James T. Fields, William W. Goodwin,
S. W. Rowse, John C. Gray,
John A. Andrew, Edward C. Pickering,
Jeffries Wyman, Thomas B. Aldrich,
E. W. Gurney, Edward W. Emerson,
W. M. Hunt, Walbridge A. Field,
Charles F. Adams, Sen., Henry L. Higginson,
Charles W. Eliot, Edward W. Hooper,
Charles C. Perkins, Henry P. Walcott.
CHAPTER XXXII
THE WORCESTER FIRE SOCIETY
I have been for fifty years a member of another club called
the Worcester Fire Society, some of whose members have had
a remarkable relation to important events in the history of
the country, of which the story will be worth recording. The
club was founded in 1793, before the days of fire-engines,
so that if the house of any of the members caught fire, his
associates might come to the rescue with buckets and bags
and bed-keys and other apparatus to put out the fire and save
the property. But it long since became a mere social club.
It is limited to thirty members.
The elder Levi Lincoln, Mr. Jefferson's intimate friend,
confidential correspondent and Attorney-General in his Cabinet,
organizer of the political movement which built up Mr. Jefferson's
power in New England in the beginning of the last century,
was not, I believe, a member of the Society himself. But
his sons were, and many of his descendants and connections
by marriage, certainly twelve or fifteen in all. When the
office of Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States
became vacant, by reason of the death of Mr. Justice William
Cushing of Massachusetts, September 13, 1809, Levi Lincoln
the elder was appointed, confirmed by the Senate and commissioned
to fill the vacancy. Mr. Jefferson earnestly desired and
urged his appointment. President Madison accompanied the
offer of the office with a letter urging Mr. Lincoln to accept
it in spite of a malady of the eyes from which he was suffering.
Mr. Madison says he had got along very well as Attorney-
General and he thinks he would find less inconvenience in
discharging the duties of Judge. But Mr. Lincoln declined
the office. He lived until 1820, retaining his health and
vigor, except for the trouble with his eyes.
He was a very able man. He argued the case in which it was
decided by the Supreme Court of Massachusetts that slavery
was abolished in that State by the Constitution, in 1780.
Judge Story was appointed in his place. If Mr. Lincoln had
accepted, it is likely that the great judicial fame of Judge
Story would be lacking from American jurisprudence. Story
would have devoted himself, probably, to professional or political
life. At any rate he would not have been appointed to the
Bench before 1820.
There can be no doubt that if Lincoln had accepted the seat
upon the Bench, he would have been a thorn in the flesh of
Marshall. He doubtless shared Mr. Jefferson's dislike for
the great Chief Justice. The case of Dartmouth College _v._
Woodward was decided in 1819. There was in fact but one dissent,
but any person who reads Shirley's book on the history of
that case will be inclined to believe that without Judge Story
Dartmouth College _v._ Woodward would not have been decided
as it was.
More interesting and important is the relation, to Mr. Webster's
seat in the Senate, of the second Levi Lincoln, son of him
of whom I have just spoken, himself a member of the Worcester
Club that has been referred to. He was Governor of Massachusetts,
Judge of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, and a Member
of the National House of Representatives. He was elected
Senator of the United States by one branch of the Massachusetts
Legislature when the term of Elijah H. Mills expired, March
3, 1827. There can be no doubt that if he had consented he
would also have been elected by the other house. Mr. Webster
was chosen at the next Session. But before he was elected
he wrote very strongly urging Mr. Lincoln to accept the office.
He said in his letter dated May 22, 1827:
"I beg to say that I see no way in which the public good
can be so well promoted as by your consenting to go to the
Senate. This is my own clear and decided opinion; it is
the opinion, equally clear and decided, of intelligent and
patriotic friends here, and I am able to add that it is also
the decided opinion of all those friends elsewhere, whose
judgment in such matters we should naturally regard. I believe
I may say, without violating confidence, that it is the wish,
entertained with some earnestness, of our friends at Washington,
that you should consent to be Mr. Mills's successor. I need
hardly add after what I have said that this is my own wish."
Mr. Lincoln felt constrained to decline, although the office
would doubtless have been very agreeable to him, by reason
of some statements he had made when elected Governor that
he should not be a candidate for the Senate. Mr. Lincoln
might, without dishonor or even indelicacy, have accepted
the office in spite of those utterances. It was quite clear
that all the persons who might be supposed to have acted
upon them, desired his election when the time came on. But
he was a man of scrupulous honor and did not mean to leave
any room for the imputation that he did not regard what is
due to "consistency of character," to use his own phrase.
Now if Mr. Lincoln would have accepted the office it is likely
that he would have held it until his death in 1868. At any
rate it is quite certain that he would have held it until
the political revolution of 1851.
It is quite clear to me that the office of Senator was at
Mr. Lincoln's command. Observe that this was in 1827, and
was the election for the term of six years, ending March 3,
1833. That includes the period of Jackson's great contest
with Nullification, when Mr. Webster, with all his power,
came to Jackson's support. It includes the time of the Reply
to Hayne, and the great debate with Calhoun.
Daniel Webster, I need not say, would have been a great figure
anywhere. But if Mr. Lincoln had acted otherwise, there would
have been absent from our history and literature Webster's
Reply to Hayne, the support of Jackson in the day of Nullification,
the debate with Calhoun including the speech, "The Constitution
not a Compact between Sovereign States," and the powerful
attack on Jackson's assertion of power in the removal of the
deposits. The speech on the President's Protest, with the
wonderful passage describing the power of England, would not
have been made.
If the sentiment of Patriotism, and love of Liberty and Union
are to be dominant in this Republic, we cannot measure the
value of the influence of Daniel Webster and the speech in
reply to Hayne. I am not sure that, without Mr. Webster's
powerful championship of the side which prevailed, Mr. Calhoun's
theory would not have become established. At any rate, it
was the fortune of Daniel Webster that the doctrine of National
Unity, whenever it has prevailed in the hearts of his countrymen,
has been supported by his argument and clothed in his language.
Another incident of the same kind, not of like importance
to those of which I have told, but still of a good deal of
interest and importance, happened more lately. I had a good
deal to do with it myself.
When President Hayes entered upon office, there were but three
members of the Senate of either party who were supporters
of his Administration. I was one of them. The other two
were my colleague, Mr. Dawes, and Stanley Matthews of Ohio.
President Hayes was, in my opinion, a very wise and able and
upright man. It was an admirable Administration. He had
a strong and excellent Cabinet. But his nomination had disappointed
the ambitions of some very influential men in his own party,
and the powerful factions of which they were the leaders and
candidates. The opposing party had not only felt the usual
disappointment in defeat, but denied the lawfulness of his
election. So I was more familiar than would ordinarily have
been likely to have been the case with all the councils of
his Administration. The Secretary of State was my near kinsman,
and the Attorney-General had been my law partner.
When the vacancy occurred in the English mission by the resignation
of Mr. John Welsh, I very strongly urged the appointment of
Mr. Lowell. Mr. Evarts was quite unwilling to select Mr.
Lowell, and in deference to his wishes, President Hayes offered
the place to several other persons, including myself. The
offer was communicated to me by Mr. Evarts who was, at that
time, Secretary of State. But there were many good reasons
why I could not accept it. The offer was made to Governor
Alexander H. Bullock, a member of the little society of which
I have spoken. I was myself authorized by the President to
communicate his desire to Governor Bullock. His answer, declining
of account of the condition of his family, will be found in
the life prefixed to the published volume of his speeches.
Now, if Governor Bullock had accepted the appointment, which
was undoubtedly very attractive to him, what Mr. Lowell did
in England would not have been done. He will doubtless go
down in literature as a great poet. But it seems to me he
is entitled to an equal rank among the prose writers of the
country, and indeed among the prose writers of the English
language of our time. His admirable address on Democracy,
the delightful address as President of the Wordsworth Society,
several estimates of the British poets, delivered by him on
various occasions in England when he was Minister there, are
among the very best examples of his work in prose.
APPENDIX I
It was upon Mr. Sherman's motion that the words, "Common Defence
and General Welfare," which have played so important a part
in the construction of the Constitution, were introduced into
that instrument. He proposed to add to the taxing clause
the words, "for the payment of said debts and for the defraying
of expenses that shall be incurred for the defence and general
welfare."
This proposition, according to Mr. Madison, was disagreed
to as being unnecessary. It then obtained only the single
vote of Connecticut. But three days afterward Mr. Sherman
moved and obtained the appointment of a Committee, of which
he was a member, to which this and several subjects were committed.
That Committee reported the clause in the shape in which it
now stands, and it was adopted unanimously.
Its adoption is an instance of Mr. Sherman's great tenacity,
and his power to bring the body, of which he was a member,
to his own way of thinking in the end, however unwilling in
the beginning. This phrase had played not only an important
but a decisive part in the great debate between a strict construction
of the Constitution and the construction which has prevailed
and made it the law of the being of a great National life.
This story is well told in Farrar's "Manual of the Constitution,"
pages 110, 309, 324.
APPENDIX II
Roger Minott Sherman, son of Roger Sherman's brother Josiah,
was born in Woburn, Mass., May 22, 1773. Mr. Sherman was
much attached to him and defrayed the cost of his education.
He was an inmate of his uncle's family while a student at
Yale College. He was graduated in the year 1792. He was
one of the ablest lawyers and advocates New England ever produced,
probably having no equal at the Bar of New England except
Jeremiah Mason and Daniel Webster. I attended a dinner of
the Alumni of Yale College some years ago. President Woolsey
sat on one side of me, and Dr. Leonard Bacon on the other;
and right opposite at the table was Rev. Dr. Atwater, then
I believe of Princeton, but formerly Mr. Sherman's pastor in
Fairfield. President Woolsey said that Roger Minott Sherman
came nearer his conception of Cicero than any other person
he ever heard speak. They used frequently to invite him to
deliver public addresses at the College. But he never would
accept the invitation. After refusal, the invitation would
be renewed again after a few years with like result.
To the above estimate of Mr. Sherman, Dr. Bacon and Mr. Atwater
agreed.
When I was in the Law School at Harvard, Professor Simon Greenleaf
told the class in one of his lectures that he was once travelling
through Connecticut in a carriage on a summer journey, and
came to a town, I think Fairfield, which was the county seat.
He stopped to get his dinner and rest his horses. While the
horses were being fed he went into the court-house, intending
to stay only a few minutes, and found Roger Minott Sherman
arguing a case before the Supreme Court with Judge Gould on
the other side. He was much impressed by Mr. Sherman's clear
and powerful argument. Mr. Sherman and Judge Gould were
engaged on opposite sides in nearly all the cases. Professor
Greenleaf was so much interested by what he heard that he
remained and attended court during the entire week. I do
not remember his exact language, but he, in substance, gave
an estimate of Mr. Sherman as a profound lawyer and able advocate,
not less exalted than President Woolsey had given of him as
an orator.
Some slight account of Roger Minott Sherman will be found
in Goodrich's "Recollections."
Mr. Evarts once told me that there was an important controversy,
involving the title to a valuable cargo, in which a lawyer
in Hartford was on one side, and a member of the Bar of the
city of New York on the other. The New York lawyer went to
Hartford to negotiate about the case. The Hartford lawyer
had obtained the opinion of Roger Minott Sherman for his client
and held it in his hand during the conversation, labelled
on the outside, "Opinion of Roger Minott Sherman," and moved
it about under the eye of his opponent. The opinion was in
fact that the Hartford man's client had no case. But the
New York lawyer supposed that if the man had got Roger Minott
Sherman's opinion, and seemed to set so much store upon the
document, it was favorable to the party who had consulted
him. He was much alarmed and settled the case on favorable
terms to his antagonist.
Mr. Sherman was famous for his quickness of wit. A story
went the rounds of the papers in my youth, which may or may
not have any truth in it, but which I will record. It is
said that he was once arguing a case against Nathan Smith,
a very able but rather coarse lawyer. Mr. Smith had discussed
the question of law with the subtilty for which he was distinguished.
Mr. Sherman said to the court that he thought his brother
Smith's metaphysics were out of place in that discussion;
that he was not adverse to such refinement at a proper time,
and would willingly, on a fit occasion, chop logic and split
hairs with him. Smith pulled a hair out of his own head,
and holding it up, said,--"Split that." Sherman replied, quick
as lightning, "May it please your Honor, I didn't say bristles."
The following is the passage referred to from S. G. Goodrich's
"Recollections of a Lifetime":
"Roger Minott Sherman was distinguished for acute logical
powers and great elegance of diction,--words and sentences
seemed to flow from his lips as if he were reading from the
_Spectator._ He was a man of refined personal appearance
and manners; tall, stooping a little in his walk; deliberate
in his movements and speech, indicating circumspection, which
was one of his characteristics. His countenance was pale
and thoughtful, his eye remarkable for a keen penetrating
expression. Though a man of grave general aspect, he was
not destitute of humor. He was once travelling in western
Virginia, and stopping at a small tavern, was beset with questions
by the landlord, as to where he came from, whither he was
going, etc. At last said Mr. Sherman, 'Sit down, sir, and
I will tell you all about it.' The landlord sat down. 'Sir,'
said he, 'I am from the Blue Light State of Connecticut.'
The landlord stared. 'I am a deacon in a Calvinistic church.'
The landlord was evidently shocked. 'I was a member of the
Hartford Convention.' This was too much for the democratic
nerves of the landlord; he speedily departed, and left his
lodger to himself."
[Frontispiece: v2.jpg]
[Title page]
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF SEVENTY YEARS
BY
GEORGE F. HOAR
WITH PORTRAITS
VOLUME II.
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1903
[Table of Contents]
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I
ELECTION TO THE SENATE
CHAPTER II
PRESIDENT HAYES
CHAPTER III
CABINET OF PRESIDENT HAYES
CHAPTER IV
ATTEMPT TO REOPEN THE QUESTION OF THE TITLE TO THE
PRESIDENCY
CHAPTER V
THE SENATE IN 1877
CHAPTER VI
LEADERS OF THE SENATE IN 1877
CHAPTER VII
COMMITTEE SERVICE IN THE SENATE
CHAPTER VIII
THE RIVER AND HARBOR BILL
CHAPTER IX
CHINESE TREATY AND LEGISLATION
CHAPTER X
THE WASHINGTON TREATY AND THE GENEVA AWARD
CHAPTER XI
THE PRESIDENT'S POWER OF REMOVAL
CHAPTER XII
FISHERIES
CHAPTER XIII
THE FEDERAL ELECTIONS BILL
CHAPTER XIV
CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENTS AND THE PRESIDENTIAL
SUCCESSION BILL
CHAPTER XV
PRESIDENT CLEVELAND'S JUDGES
CHAPTER XVI
SOME SOUTHERN SENATORS
CHAPTER XVII
CUSHMAN KELLOGG DAVIS
CHAPTER XVIII
GEORGE BANCROFT
CHAPTER XIX
VISITS TO ENGLAND (1860, 1868, 1871)
CHAPTER XX
VISITS TO ENGLAND, 1892
CHAPTER XXI
VISITS TO ENGLAND, 1896
CHAPTER XXII
SILVER AND BIMETALLISM
CHAPTER XXIII
VISITS TO ENGLAND, 1899
CHAPTER XXIV
A REPUBLICAN PLATFORM
CHAPTER XXV
OFFICIAL SALARIES
CHAPTER XXVI
PROPRIETY IN DEBATE
CHAPTER XXVII
THE FISH-BALL LETTERS
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE BIRD PETITION
CHAPTER XXIX
THE A. P. A. CONTROVERSY
CHAPTER XXX
THE ENGLISH MISSION
CHAPTER XXXI
PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT AND THE SYRIAN CHILDREN
CHAPTER XXXII
NATIONAL BANKRUPTCY
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS
CHAPTER XXXIV
APPOINTMENTS TO OFFICE
CHAPTER XXXV
ORATORY AND SOME ORATORS I HAVE HEARD
CHAPTER XXXVI
TRUSTS
CHAPTER XXXVII
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE WORCESTER BAR
CHAPTER XXXVIII
SOME JUDGES I HAVE KNOWN
CHAPTER XXXIX
POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS FAITH
CHAPTER XL
EDWARD EVERETT HALE
APPENDIX
THE FOREST OF DEAN (BY JOHN BELLOWS)
INDEX
[Second Title page]
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SEVENTY YEARS
[Text]
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SEVENTY YEARS
CHAPTER I
ELECTION TO THE SENATE
I have every reason to believe that my constituents in the
Worcester district would have gladly continued me in the
public service for ten years longer, if I had been so minded.
I presided over the District Convention that nominated my
successor. Before the convention was called to order the
delegates crowded around me and urged me to reconsider my
refusal to stand for another term, and declared they would
gladly nominate me again. But I persisted in my refusal.
I supposed then that my political career was ended. My home
and my profession and my library had an infinite attraction
for me. I had become thoroughly sick of Washington and politics
and public life.
But the Republican Party in Massachusetts was having a death
struggle with General Butler. That very able, adroit and
ambitious man was attempting to organize the political forces
of the State into a Butler party, and to make them the instrument
of his ambitions. He had in some mysterious way got the ear
of General Grant and the control of the political patronage
of the State, so far as the United States offices were concerned.
I had denounced him and his methods with all my might in a
letter I had written to the people of Massachusetts, from
which I have already made extracts. I had incurred his bitter
personal enmity, and was regarded with perhaps one exception,
that of my older brother Judge Hoar, as his most unrelenting
opponent.
The people of Massachusetts were never an office-seeking
people. There is no State in the Union whose representatives
at the seat of Government have less trouble in that way, or
that gives less trouble to the Executive Departments or to
the President. I have had that assurance from nearly every
President since I have been in public life. And the people
of Massachusetts have never concerned themselves very much
as to who should hold the Executive offices, small or large,
so that they were honestly and faithfully served, and that
the man appointed was of good character and standing. The
reform which took the civil service out of politics always
found great favor in Massachusetts. But since General Butler,
in some way never fully explained to the public, got the ear
of the appointing power he seemed to be filling all the Departments
at Washington with his adherents, especially the important
places in the Treasury. The public indignation was deeply
aroused. Men dreaded to read the morning papers lest they
should see the announcement of the removal from the public
service of some honest citizen, or brave soldier, who was
filling the place of postmaster or marshal, or Custom House
official, or clerk in a Department at Washington, and the
putting in his place some unscrupulous follower of the fortunes
of General Butler. The climax was reached when Butler's chief
lieutenant, Simmons, was appointed Collector of the Port of
Boston. Judge Russell, the old Collector, was an able and
very popular man. He had given Butler a sort of half-hearted
support. But he was incapable of lending himself to any base
or unworthy purpose. He was compelled to vacate the office,
much to his disgust. He accepted that of Minister to Venezuela,
an unimportant foreign mission, and William A. Simmons was
appointed in his place. The process of weeding out the Custom
House then went on with great rapidity. Colonel Moulton,
one of the bravest soldiers of the Civil War, who had been
under rebel fire in a Charleston dungeon, and Colonel A. A.
Sherman, a man with a marvellous military record, were removed
to make way for men for whom, to say the least, the public
had no respect. The order for their removal was recalled
in consequence of a direct appeal to President Grant. Mr.
Hartwell, the Treasurer, an excellent officer, who had graduated
the first scholar at Harvard, was removed. Mrs. Chenoweth,
a very accomplished lady, widow of one of the bravest officers
of the Civil War, a member of Grant's staff, who was filling
a clerical position at the Custom House, was notified of her
removal. That also was arrested by a direct appeal to Grant.
General Andrews, one of our best officers, afterwards professor
at West Point, was dropped from the office of Marshal, and
one of the adherents of Butler put in his place.
The indignation of the better class of Republicans was aroused.
Before the appointment of Simmons, Mr. Boutwell had been elected
Senator, and Mr. Richardson had succeeded him as Secretary
of the Treasury. Mr. Boutwell was a favorite with the President.
Mr. Sumner, then the senior Senator, was on the most unfriendly
relations with the President, and had opposed his reelection
to the best of his ability. It was not considered likely,
under the custom then universally prevailing and indeed prevailing
ever since, that President Grant would ever have made such
an appointment without the entire approval of the Senator
from the State interested, with whom he was on most friendly
terms and who had served in his Cabinet as Secretary of the
Treasury. Governor Boutwell was consulted about it, and gave
it his approval, although it is understood that afterward,
in obedience to the indignant feeling of the people, which
was deeply excited, he voted against the confirmation of Simmons
in the Senate. At the same time he informed his associates
that he did not wish to have them understand that he requested
them to vote against Simmons because of his opposition, or
because of any so-called courtesy of the Senate. Simmons
was the manager of Mr. Boutwell's campaign for reelection,
and General Butler was his earnest supporter, giving him notice
and urging him to repair at once to Boston when the movement
against him became formidable.
I am quite sure that but for the determination of the people
of Massachusetts not to endure Butler and Butlerism any longer,
and probably but for the appointment of Simmons, I should
never have been elected Senator. It is likely there would
have been no change in the office until this moment.
When I left home for Washington at the beginning of the December
session of Congress in 1876, the late Adin Thayer told me
that some of the Republicans had got sick of Butler's rule,
and they were determined to have a candidate for Senator who
could be trusted to make zealous opposition to him and his
methods, and that they proposed to use my name. I told him
I did not believe they would be able to get twenty-five votes,
that Mr. Boutwell, then Senator, was an able man, and that
I did not think the fact even that he was understood to be
a strong friend and ally of General Butler would induce the
people to displace him. Mr. Thayer replied that at any rate
there should be a protest.
I had no communication from any other human being upon the
subject of my candidacy for the Senate, and made none to any
human being, with one exception, until my election by the
Legislature was announced. My oldest sister was fatally sick,
and I received a letter every day giving an account of her
condition. In a postscript to one letter from my brother,
he made some slight allusion to the election for Senator then
pending in the Massachusetts Legislature. But with that exception
I never heard about it and had nothing to do with it.
I can truly say that I was as indifferent to the result, so
far as it affected me personally, as to the question whether
I should walk on one side of the street or the other. I did
not undervalue the great honor of representing Massachusetts
in the Senate of the United States. But I had an infinite
longing for my home and my profession and my library. I never
found public employment pleasant or congenial. But the fates
sent me to the Senate and have kept me there until I am now
the man longest in continuous legislative service in this
country, and have served in the United States Senate longer
than any other man who ever represented Massachusetts.
The last three times I have been elected to the Senate I
have had, I believe, every Republican vote of the Legislature,
and I was assured--of course I cannot speak with much confidence
of such a matter--that I could have all the Democratic votes,
if necessary. I state these things with a feeling of natural
pride. But I do not attribute it to any special merit of
mine. It has been the custom of Massachusetts to continue
her Senators in public life so long as they were willing,
and were in general accord with the political opinion of the
majority of the people.
I have, however, owed very much indeed to the moderation
and kindness of the eminent gentlemen who might have been
most formidable competitors, if they had thought fit. Just
before the election of 1883, when all the discontented elements
were seeking a candidate, General Francis A. Walker, one
of the ablest men ever born on the soil so productive of good
and able men, was proposed as my competitor. He would have
had a great support. I think he would have liked the service,
for which he was so eminently fitted. He had been my pupil,
and had gone from my office to the War. He came out promptly
in a letter in which he declared that in his judgment Mr.
Hoar was the fittest person in the Commonwealth for the office
of Senator. Governor Long was my Republican competitor in
1883. But on two or three occasions since, when he was proposed
in many quarters for the office of Senator, he promptly refused
to have his name submitted to the Legislature, and declared
himself for me. He is a man of brilliant ability, and a great
favorite with the people of the Commonwealth. General William
F. Draper, lately Ambassador to Italy, a most distinguished
soldier, a business man of great sagacity and success, having
inherited from his father a right to the regard of the people--
a regard which has been extended not only to him, but also
to his very able and excellent brothers--more than once when
there has been an election of Senator, has been proposed in
many quarters. He has promptly, both in letter and in public
interviews, rejected the suggestion, finally with impatience
that he was put to the trouble of repeating himself in the
matter so often.
I think that in any other State than Massachusetts, and even
there, without the great kindness and moderation of these
gentlemen, my tenure of office, which will have continued
for thirty-eight years, if my life be spared, would have been
much shorter.
Mr. Sumner was in general accord with the Republicans of Massachusetts
on important questions in issue in his time. But he bitterly
and savagely attacked President Grant at the height of his
popularity, and did his best to defeat him for reelection.
He allowed his name to be used as candidate for Governor,
against Governor Washburn. The defeat of Grant would, of
course, have caused that of Henry Wilson, candidate for the
Vice-Presidency. Still I have no doubt that if Mr. Sumner
had lived, he would have been reelected to the Senate without
any very formidable opposition.