over the Senate. He was a nervous, restless man, who gave no attention
to the Senator speaking, and while he was in the chair the Senate became
a noisy, turbulent body. At another time, for a few hours, I saw Henry
Wilson, who was Vice-President under Grant’s second term, preside over
the Senate. Quiet, self-contained, serene, watchful, attentive, he was
an ideal presiding officer. Every battle of life had left its mark on
his strong, rugged face.
In December, 1885, I came to Washington and remained three years.
Vice-President Hendricks had died, and the Senate, which was Republican,
was presided over by John Sherman. He was in public life from 1848 to
the time of his death, and his name was identified with almost every
public measure from that time to the end of the century. He was a man of
great wisdom and good judgment, but cold and without any of those
qualities which tend to personal popularity. Later, John James Ingalls,
of Kansas, was elected President _pro tempore_. Tall, stately,
dignified, scholarly, thoughtful, a skilled parliamentarian, it is
probable the Senate never had a better presiding officer. When Senator
Ingalls occupied the chair the business of the Senate was put through
with such celerity and dispatch that a visit to that usually prosy body
became interesting.
Later, I saw Levi P. Morton, of New York, preside as Vice-President. He
was a fine business man who had served his country with honor abroad,
but had no training as a presiding officer. He was regarded as fair in
his rulings.
The Senate is now presided over by Senator Frye, of Maine, who has had a
long experience in legislative bodies, having served six terms as
representative from Maine, and having been elected to the Senate in
1881, to fill the vacancy left by Blaine when he became Secretary of
State under Garfield. He was also a member of the Peace Commission which
met in Paris, September, 1898, to settle the terms of peace between the
United States and Spain. He was elected President _pro tempore_ of the
Senate in 1896, and reelected March 7, 1901. He is considered extremely
fair to both sides, and is an able officer.
When I take friends to the Senate now I notice they ask first for Mr.
Hoar, of Massachusetts; Hanna, of Ohio; Spooner, of Wisconsin;
Dollinger, of Iowa; Quay, of Pennsylvania; Hawley, of Connecticut;
Lodge, of Massachusetts; Nelson, of Minnesota; Depew and Platt, of New
York. Then strangers desire to see Tillman and McLaurin, of South
Carolina; Vest, of Missouri, and Morgan, of Alabama.
When I was here from 1885 to 1888 the following were the stars: Edmunds,
who for quiet strength, massive force, persistent effort, fertility of
resource, and keen sagacity was never surpassed on the floor of the
Senate. Like Mr. Hoar, his sentences in rhetorical and grammatical
construction were fit for the Record just as they fell from his lips.
William M. Evarts, of New York, famous as counsel in the Beecher trial,
and attorney for the Republican party before the Electoral Commission.
He seemed like a man about to do some great thing, but he originated no
important national or international law. Leland Stanford, noted for his
philanthropy and great wealth, and Wade Hampton and Senator Butler, both
of South Carolina, were picturesque and interesting figures. General
Logan, Don Cameron, Preston B. Plumb, Blackburn, and Beck, of Kentucky,
stood next in interest, but most of these have given place to a younger
generation.
The most interesting rooms in the north wing beside the Senate Chamber
are the President’s room, Vice-President’s reception-rooms, and
committee room of the District of Columbia.
The walls of the President’s room are in white and gold, with crimson
carpet, table, and chair effects—rather high lights if one had to live
in it, but very pleasing for the short visits made by the President to
the Capitol. On the last day of each term of Congress the President
comes to this room for an hour or two and signs any bills which yet
remain. He also answers the perfunctory question as to whether he
desires to present any further business to the Senate.
The Vice-President’s room is much more used. When the Vice-President in
the Senate chamber grows tired “of weary lawyers with endless tongues,”
he calls some one to the chair and slips into the Vice-President’s room,
to rest and attend to his correspondence.
Among our Vice-Presidents who have occupied this room were William R.
King, in the administration of Pierce; then John C. Breckenridge, under
Buchanan; Hannibal Hamlin, Lincoln’s first Vice-President, and Andrew
Johnson, his second Vice-President; Schuyler Colfax and Henry G. Wilson,
under Grant (Henry G. Wilson died November 22, 1875, in this room);
William A. Wheeler, Vice-President during Hayes’s administration;
Chester A. Arthur, under Garfield for a short time; Thomas A. Hendricks,
in the first Cleveland administration; Levi P. Morton, under Harrison;
Adlai E. Stevenson, under Cleveland; Garrett A. Hobart, in the first
McKinley term, and Theodore Roosevelt, in the second. In addition to
these were many other distinguished men who were acting Vice-Presidents.
Garrett A. Hobart was the fifth Vice-President of the United States to
die during his term of office. The others were Elbridge Gerry, William
Rufus King, Henry Wilson, and Thomas A. Hendricks. Gerry was one of the
great statesmen of the revolutionary period and hailed from
Massachusetts. He was Vice-President in 1812, and died November 23,
1814, while on the way to the capital.
King, of Alabama, was chosen Vice-President in 1852. He was obliged to
go to Cuba during the campaign on account of his health, and the oath of
office was administered to him there by special act of Congress. He
returned to the United States April 17, 1853, and his death occurred on
the following day.
Wilson, of Massachusetts, was elected Vice-President on the ticket with
General Grant in 1872. He suffered a stroke of paralysis in 1873, and
was infirm until the time of his death, which was caused by apoplexy
November 22, 1875.
Hendricks, of Indiana, was elected on the ticket with Cleveland in 1884.
He died in Indianapolis November 25, 1885.
VIII
THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES
The Hall of Representatives is in the south wing of the Capitol, and is
similar in form and design to the Senate Chamber, being semicircular,
with a gallery of twelve hundred seating capacity extending around the
entire hall.
Like the Senate, the walls are white, buff, and gold, and the ceiling
panels of glass, each showing in connection with a State coat of arms
the cotton plant in some stage of development.
The Speaker of the House sits at a desk of pure white marble, and in
front of him are several desks for the Secretary and his many
assistants.
A silver plate on each desk bears the name of its occupant. As in the
Senate, the Republicans occupy the left of the Speaker and the Democrats
the right.
When the House is in session the mace is in an upright position at the
table of the Sergeant-at-Arms on the right of the Speaker, and when the
House is adjourned, or in committee of the whole, it is removed.
[Illustration:
THE MACE
]
The mace is a bundle of ebony rods, bound together with silver bands,
having on top a silver globe, surmounted by a silver eagle. In the
British House of Commons the mace represents the royal authority, but in
the United States it stands for the power of the people, which, tho not
present in bodily form, yet is a force always to be reckoned with. The
one now in the House has been in use since 1842. The Sergeant carries it
before him as his symbol of office when enforcing order, or in
conducting a member to the bar of the House by order of the Speaker.
The Speaker’s room is across the lobby back of his chair, and is one of
the most beautiful rooms in the building. It has velvet carpet, fine,
carved furniture, large bookcases and mirrors, and its walls, as well as
the walls of the lobby, are hung with the portraits of every Speaker,
from our first Congress to the present one.
Most of the pictures in the House of Representatives with which I was
familiar fifteen years ago have been removed. Now there remains but
one—Brumidi’s fresco representing General Washington declining the
overtures of Lord Cornwallis for a two days’ cessation of hostilities.
Washington, like Grant, was an “unconditional surrender” man.
Each State is entitled to a number of Representatives in Congress,
proportioned upon the number of its population. The State is districted
by its own State Legislature. Then the district selects its own man, who
is supposed to understand its wants and needs, and elects him to
represent his people for two years.
He must be twenty-five years of age, seven years a citizen of the United
States, and a citizen of the State which he represents. There are about
three hundred and fifty-six members and delegates. The latter represent
the territories of Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, and Hawaii.
[Illustration:
THE SPEAKER’S ROOM
]
Congress is an aggregate of selfish units, each fighting for his
district. No doubt good influences prevail, but no one class of men,
either the extremely good or the extremely bad, has the entire say, for
law is the formulated average public opinion of the age and country in
which it is made.
It can not be too strongly impressed upon the voters of this country
that it is their duty to select good, strong, noble men with high
convictions of public duty, and then to keep them in Congress term after
term if they desire their district to be represented by anything more
than a mere vote. Important places on committees are given men not alone
in proportion to intellectual merit, but in proportion to Congressional
experience. All men will not become leaders from remaining there a long
time, but none will without it.
It is a wonderful thing to note the changes in the House since 1885. At
that time John G. Carlisle was Speaker of the House. So fair in his
rulings was Mr. Carlisle that one might spend hours in the gallery and
be unable to decide which side he favored.
Samuel J. Randall and Roger Q. Mills, of Texas, were the leaders on the
Democratic side, and the Mills bill concerning tariff the chief object
of legislative interest before the country. Springer, of Illinois, and
Breckenridge, of Kentucky; Crisp, of Georgia; Hooker and Allen, of
Mississippi, were also among the leaders of the Democracy. Of these some
are now out of politics, some are dead, and one disgraced.
Thomas B. Reed, of Maine, was the acknowledged leader of the Republican
side, with McKinley, Cutcheon, Burrows, Boutelle, Holman, Butterworth,
Henderson, Payne, Morrill, of Kansas, Negley, of Pennsylvania, and
Cannon his backers.
It was great fun to see Reed come down the aisle ready to puncture the
pet plans of the Democrats. In sharp, keen, extemporaneous, partisan
debate he has never been excelled in this country, and possibly never in
any other. No man ever appreciated his own power more accurately than
he. He charged on few windmills; but when he placed himself in
antagonism to a measure, it usually failed to pass, altho the Democrats
had a working majority. When he became Speaker of the House, old members
assured me, in spite of his name “Czar” Reed, he was not more arbitrary
than either Blaine or Randall in the same position. As a presiding
officer no man ever put the business of the House through more rapidly
or more gracefully. He was a fine parliamentarian, quick in decisions
and most able in his rulings.
My note on McKinley in 1885 says: “He can not be considered a leader,
for a leader is one who can champion a party measure. This he can not
do, as he is not keen in repartee—the opposition walk all over him; nor
can he support a _new_ man. He makes two or three well-prepared,
eloquent speeches each _year_; these are usually on the tariff. He is a
genial, pleasant gentleman, probably with more personal friends in the
entire country than any one man now before the nation.”
William C. P. Breckenridge, of Kentucky, was considered the most
eloquent man for a prepared speech on the Democratic side. But it was
the eloquence of a musical voice, graceful gesture, and an abundant use
of adjectives, not the eloquence of deep thought. While he was speaking
it was hard to believe that it was not the best speech which could
possibly be made on that subject. When one read it in the Record he
wondered that he had been even interested.
In December, 1889, Mr. Breckenridge lectured in Clearfield,
Pennsylvania, to the Teachers’ Institute. His subject was “Kentucky’s
Place in History.”
He began by saying: “I was a rebel. I am glad of it. If I had it to do
again, I would do the same thing!” Now, think of that before a Northern
audience, especially in a mountain county which is always noted for
patriotism. If his audience had been petrified they could not more
quickly have frozen in their places.
He told the thrilling story of Kentucky in words of matchless humor and
pathos. He tried fun; no one smiled, I was sitting on the platform, and
the stories were so amusing I was obliged to retire to the wings, as to
laugh in the face of that angry audience would have been an indignity.
He tried pathos. No one melted. As he came from the stage, I said:
“Colonel, you gave a most eloquent address.”
“What in thunder is the matter with that audience?” he said. I replied:
“When you said you did not regret being a rebel, and you would do the
same again, you killed that audience so far as you were concerned.”
Just at that moment Mr. Matthew Savage, the County Superintendent, came
up. He flung down on the table his check for one hundred dollars, and
said: “Take that, but I hope never to see your face again. I am a
Democrat, and the people of this county will think I hired you to come
here and talk treason. You have spoiled my chances for the Legislature.”
The people, however, understood the case, and it did not hurt Mr. Savage
politically.
IX
CONCERNING REPRESENTATIVES
It is not all “skittles and beer” to be a Senator or a Representative at
Washington. The continued pressure from a man’s constituents that he
shall accomplish certain legislation for his district, and the iron-clad
rules which prohibit his every movement, if in the House of
Representatives, are enough to break an ordinary man’s health.
A new member goes to the House full of enthusiasm, hoping to accomplish
great things for those who have trusted him; he finds that he is
scarcely permitted to open his mouth the first term. But he does his
best in committee, which is little enough; he runs his feet off to get
places for some hundreds of people from his district who must be taken
care of. Then he keeps trying to be a good party man, and to do some
favor for the leaders, who, he hopes, will reward him by giving him an
opportunity to accomplish much-needed legislation for his district, till
in his second or third term he becomes desperate, breaks out in meeting,
and knocks things about generally. If he proves to be really an orator
and succeeds in catching the ear of the House, he may then begin to be
more than a mere party voter. On the other hand, he may be so squelched
that he subsides into “innocuous desuetude.”
In the meantime he has borne all forms of unjust and unkind criticism at
home. His opponents of his own party and of the opposite party point, in
scorn and malice, to how little has been done for the district, and tell
in startling sentences how they would do it and how they _will_ do it
when they are elected. Then a “nagger” comes to Washington, who is still
worse. He _demands_ a position, tells the Representative how the latter
owes his place to said nagger, and insists on being immediately made
chief clerk of some department accessible only through the Civil
Service, and needing four times the influence a new member can bring to
bear. A man must learn to be serene under nagging, misrepresentation,
and even positive lies, and rely upon time and his own best efforts to
vindicate him.
There have been more caucuses held during the last term than usual. A
caucus is a good thing, as it gives a man a chance to influence in a
very slight degree the decisions of his party. (See Henry Loomis
Nelson’s excellent article in the _Century_ for June, 1902.)
The House is at present (session 1902–1903) ruled by only a few leading
Republicans: Speaker Henderson, Grosvenor, Payne, Dalzell, and about two
or three others. How long will such a hierarchy, dominating nearly three
hundred intelligent men, be permitted to exist? The House is run like a
bank, of which the President and a few clerks do all the deciding. Any
correspondent who has the ear of any of these few can tell you the fate
of a measure before it comes to vote.
The chairmen of committees, and a few others who have been long in the
House, are called into a committee room to decide on how much debate
will be permitted, who will be heard, and whether or not the bill shall
pass; and the rank and file, desiring to be good party men, obey orders,
and the bill fails or goes through in exactly the form decided upon by
the clique. This is most un-American. It is true, more business is thus
accomplished; but the business does not represent the average public
opinion of the House.
The Committee on Rules, or its majority, constitutes a stone wall
against which men break their hearts and ruin their reputations. Let us
have less done, but let what is done be an average result of public
opinion.
The President can do but little to influence legislation. His clubs are
personality and patronage. If as persistent as Mr. Roosevelt, he may
eventually get an “Administration” measure (like Cuban reciprocity)
through, despite opposition. Present Congressional methods make
politicians out of men capable, under broader training, of becoming
statesmen. But Mr. Roosevelt did not “arrive” by the good will of the
machine, but in spite of it. If he attains a second term, it will be
against the plans of the machine; but as in Lincoln’s second term,
politicians may be forced to nominate him, or themselves go down before
the storm of public indignation.
In the meantime legislators in the House will go on presenting little
bills which they know they can never get passed, but printed copies of
which can be sent to constituents to make them believe that their
representatives are really doing something.
The present method has this benefit: it shuts off much of the lobbying
which formerly disgraced the anterooms of Congress.
There is a small cloud in the horizon. Mr. Littlefield, of Maine, whom
rumor claimed, at the opening of the last Congress, to represent
Presidential opinion, has seen his trust bill turned down. However, Mr.
Littlefield always delights his hearers, who realize that his fight
against commercial monopolies is no make-believe.
The following extracts from a late speech of Hon. F. W. Cushman, of the
State of Washington, on the question of reciprocity with Cuba, will
throw much light on present legislative methods in the House of
Representatives:
THE RULES OF THE HOUSE
We meet in this Chamber to-day a condition that challenges the
consideration of every patriotic man, and that is, the set of rules
under which this body operates, or perhaps it would be more nearly
correct to say, under which this body is operated. [Laughter.]
Mr. Chairman, I deem it my duty, knowing as I do that this measure
could not have been brought here in the shape in which it now is, save
and excepting for the remarkable conditions created in this House by
these rules—I say, sir, I deem it to be my duty to pause for a moment
or two on the threshold of this debate and place a few cold facts
about these rules into this Record and before the 70,000,000 of people
to whom we are responsible.
I approach this subject with a decided degree of deference. In the
three years which I have been a member of this body I have endeavored
to conduct myself with a modesty that I conceive to be becoming alike
to the new member and to his constituency. I represent a Congressional
district comprising the entire State of Washington, a Congressional
district with half a million people in it, and with vast and varied
interests demanding legislation for their benefit and protection in
many of the channels of trade and branches of industry.
It is with humiliation unspeakable that I rise in my place on this
floor and admit to my constituents at home that in this House I am
utterly powerless to bring any bill or measure, no matter how worthy
or meritorious it may be, to a vote unless I can first make terms with
the Speaker.
It may be a matter of news to some of the good people within the
confines of the American Republic to know that there is no way of
getting an ordinary unprivileged measure considered and voted upon in
this House unless it suits the Speaker. I am aware that there are
several _theoretical_ ways of getting a measure up; but they have no
actual reality—no fruitage in fact. I make the statement on this floor
now, that no member of this body who introduces a bill—not a private
bill, but a public bill—can get it considered or brought forward for
final determination unless it suits the Speaker. And if any one wants
to deny that statement I am in a personal position and in a peculiarly
happy frame of mind right now to give a little valuable testimony on
that point! [Applause and laughter.]
Imagine, if you please, a measure—not a private measure, but a public
measure—which has been considered at length by a great committee of
this House and favorably reported with the recommendation that it do
pass. That bill is then placed on the “Calendar.” The Calendar! That
is a misnomer. It ought to be called a cemetery [laughter], for
therein lie the whitening bones of legislative hopes. [Laughter.] When
the bill is reported and placed on the Calendar, what does the member
who introduced it and who is charged by his constituency to secure its
passage do?
Does he consult himself about his desire to call it up? No. Does he
consult the committee who considered the bill and recommended it for
passage? No. Does he consult the will of the majority of this House?
No. What does he do? I will tell you what he does. He either consents
that that bill may die upon the Calendar, or he puts his manhood and
his individuality in his pocket and goes trotting down that little
pathway of personal humiliation that leads—where? To the Speaker’s
room. Ay, the Speaker’s room. All the glories that clustered around
the holy of holies in King Solomon’s temple looked like 30 cents
[prolonged laughter and applause]—yes, looked like 29 cents—compared
with that jobbing department of this government! [Applause and
laughter.]
Then you are in the presence of real greatness. What then? Why, the
Speaker looks over _your_ bill, and then _he_ tells _you_ whether _he_
thinks it ought to come up or not!
There is a condition which I commend to the patriotic consideration of
the American people. Contemplate that for a method of procedure in the
legislative body of a great and free republic.
WHO IS THE SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE?
Who is the Speaker of this House who sets up his immaculate and
infallible judgment against the judgment of all comers? Is there
anything different or superior in the credentials that he carries from
the credentials that were issued to you and to me from 70,000,000 of
American people? When he entered this House at the beginning of the
Fifty-sixth and Fifty-seventh Congresses he was simply a
Congressman-elect, bearing credentials like every other man on this
floor. He has no greater power now than any other member, save the
additional power we ourselves bestowed upon him by electing him
Speaker and then adopting this set of rules. The question that now
arises to confront us is: Have we put a club in the hands of some one
else to beat us to death? Have we elevated one man on a pinnacle so
high that he can not now see those who elevated him? Is the Speaker of
this House a mere mortal man of common flesh and clay, or is he
supernatural and immortal? What miracle was wrought at his birth? Did
a star shoot from its orbit when he was born, or did he come into
existence in the good old-fashioned way that ushered the rest of us
into this vale of tears?