I answered, "He is a Democrat."

Blaine instantly replied, "Well, how strangely things do come around

in this world! When we were in college together, Calhoun was

the strongest kind of Presbyterian."

I intimated that his sometime classmate was still of that eminently

respectable persuasion. The reply was, in manner indicating apparent

surprise, "Is it possible that out in your country a man can be

a Presbyterian and a Democrat at the same time?"

I was a member of the Board of Visitors to West Point in June,

1877. Mr. Blaine and Bishop Quintard of Tennessee were also members.

General Hancock was with our Board for some days at the little West

Point Inn, and delivered the address to the graduating class of

cadets. He was then in excellent health, and as superb in appearance

as he had been courageous in battle. I have never heard more

brilliant conversation than that at our table, in which the chief

participants were Gail Hamilton, Bishop Quintard, General Hancock,

Senator Maxey, and Mr. Blaine. The last named, "upon the plain

highway of talk," was unrivalled.

While the Board was in session, Mr. Blaine and I spent some hours with

the Hon. Hamilton Fish, late Secretary of State, at his country

home near West Point. Near by was still standing the historic

Beverly Robinson House, the home of Benedict Arnold when he was in

command of the Colonial forces at West Point. As we passed through

the quaint old mansion, Mr. Blaine, whose knowledge of our

Revolutionary history was all-embracing, described graphically the

conditions existing at the time of Arnold's treason, and just where

each person sat at the breakfast table in the old dining-room in

which we were then standing, on the fateful morning when the courier

from the British camp hurriedly announced to General Arnold the

capture of Major Andre.

Mr. Blaine and I were once passing along Pennsylvania Avenue, a

third of a century ago, when he remarked that the old building just

to our right had once been a high-toned gambling house; that there

were traditions to the effect that some well-known statesmen were not

wholly unadvised as to its exact location and uses. He then told me

that during his first term in Congress he was early one morning

passing this building on his way to the Capitol. Just as he reached

the spot where we were then standing, the Hon. Thaddeus Stevens

came down the steps of the building mentioned, and, immediately

after his cordial greeting to Mr. Blaine, was accosted by a

negro preacher, who earnestly requested a contribution toward

the building of a church for his people. Promptly taking a roll

from his vest pocket, Mr. Stevens handed the negro a fifty-dollar bill,

and turning to Blaine solemnly observed,

"God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform!"

At the time first mentioned, Mr. Blaine was in excellent health,

buoyant in spirits, aggressive to the last degree, and full of hope

as to the future. The disappointments and bereavements that saddened

the closing years of his life had as yet cast no shadow upon his

pathway.

Next in leadership to Mr. Blaine, upon the Republican side, was

the Hon. James A. Garfield. He possessed few of the qualities

of brilliant leadership so eminently characteristic of Blaine, but

was withal one of the ablest men I have ever known. Gifted with

rare powers of oratory, with an apparently inexhaustible reservoir

of information at his command, he knew no superior in debate.

At one period of his life he was the recipient of public honors

without a parallel in our history. While yet a Representative in

Congress, he was a Senator-elect from Ohio, and the President-elect

of the United States. For once, it indeed seemed that "fortune

had come with both hands full." In the words of the Persian poet,

"he had obtained an ear of corn from every harvest." And yet, a

few months later, in the words of his great eulogist, "the stately

mansion of power had become to him the wearisome hospital of pain,

and he begged to be taken from its prison walls, from its oppressive,

stifling air, from its homelessness and its hopelessness."

My personal acquaintance with Mr. Garfield began early in January,

1876, when we were members of the House Committee appointed by the

Speaker to convey the remains of a deceased member to his late

home, Norwich, Connecticut, for burial. Another member of the

Committee was Representative Wheeler of New York. It was late

Saturday afternoon when we were conveyed by carriages from the

crossing at Jersey City to the depot where the Norwich train was

in waiting. Our route lay for some distance along Broadway, through

the very heart of the great metropolis. As we passed the hurrying

throngs that crowded the great thoroughfare that sombre winter

evening, Mr. Garfield remarked that it was a scene similar to

the one we were then witnessing that suggested to Mr. Bryant one

of the most stirring of his shorter poems.

At our request and in tones that linger even yet in my memory,

he then repeated these lines:

"Let me move slowly through the street

Filled with an ever shifting train,

Amid the sound of steps that beat

The murmuring walks like autumn rain.

How fast the flitting figures come,

The mild, the fierce, the stony face;

Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some

Where secret tears have left their trace!

They pass to toil, to strife, to rest,

To halls in which the feast is spread,

To chambers where the funeral guest

In silence sits beside the dead.

Each where his tasks or pleasures call

They pass, and heed each other not.

There is Who heeds, Who holds them all

In His large love, and boundless thought.

These struggling tides of life that seem

In wayward, aimless course to tend,

Are eddies of the mighty stream

That rolls to its appointed end."

Norwich, the home of the deceased member, Mr. Starkweather, and

where he was laid to rest, is a beautiful city and one of much

historic interest. It was here that Benedict Arnold was born, and

the ruins of his early home were still to be seen. Of greater

interest was a monument standing in an old Indian burying-ground

near the centre of the city,--"Erected to the Memory of Uncas."

It was within the memory of the oldest inhabitant that the President

of the United States and his Cabinet were in attendance at the

dedication of this monument, and deeply interested in the impressive

ceremonies in honor of "the last of the Mohicans."

An exceedingly courteous gentleman upon the same side of the chamber

was the Hon. Nathaniel P. Banks of Massachusetts. He had been a

Major-general during the late war and was an ex-Governor of his

State. He first achieved national distinction in the thirty-fourth

Congress, when after a protracted and exciting struggle, he was elected

Speaker of the House of Representatives. In the body over which he had so

ably presided in ante-bellum days, he had again taken his seat.

While by no means taking the highest rank as a debater, he was

familiar with the complicated rules governing the House, and his

opinion challenged the highest respect. He and Mr. Blaine were

the only members of that House who had previously held the position

of Speaker.

Near General Banks sat the Hon. William D. Kelley of Pennsylvania.

He had known many years of legislative service, and was long

"the father of the House." One of the features of its successive

organization, as many old members will recall, was the administration

of the official oath to the Speaker-elect by the member who had known

the longest continuous service--"the gentleman from Pennsylvania."

When in the fulness of times he passed to "the house not made with

hands," his mantle fell upon Judge Holman of Indiana.

The House probably contained no member of rarer attainments in

scholarship than Julius H. Seelye of Massachusetts. He stood in

the front ranks of the great educators of his day, and was President

of Amherst College during the latter years of his life. His

political service was limited to one term in Congress. His speech

near its beginning upon the General Amnesty Bill challenged the

profound attention of the House, and at once gave him honored place

in its membership.

The Congressional career of the Hon. George W. McCrary, of Iowa,

terminated with this Congress. He was recognized as one of the

ablest lawyers of the House, and was one of its most agreeable and

courteous members. During the presidency of Hayes he held the

position of Secretary of War, and was later a Judge of the

United States Circuit Court.

The Hon. Joseph G. Cannon of Illinois, the present Speaker, was

just at the beginning of his long Congressional career. For

many years he has been an active leader of the House and a prominent

participant in its important debates. His characteristic patience

and long-suffering courtesy have no doubt at times been sorely

tried by attempts to enlarge the sum total of appropriation

bills reported by the Committee of which he was chairman. To

the important post of "watch-dog of the Treasury," he was, _nem.

con.,_ the successor to the lamented Holman. In this connection

a suggestive incident is recalled. One of the guides of the Capitol,

when some years ago showing a visitor through the Vice-President's

chamber, called attention to a little old-fashioned mirror upon

its walls. The guide explained that this mirror was purchased at a

cost of thirty dollars when John Adams was Vice-President, but when

the bill for its payment was before the House, Mr. Holman objected.

A Western member, who had just been defeated upon a proposed

amendment to an appropriation bill, by reason of a fatal point

of order raised by the chairman, promptly exclaimed, "I move to

strike out Holman and insert Cannon."

The sagacity and untiring industry of Mr. Cannon have elevated him

to the Speakership, and possibly yet higher honors await him.

It is a significant fact in this connection, however, that

notwithstanding the brilliant array of ambitious statesmen who have

held the Speakership for more than a century, only one, Mr. Polk, has

ever reached the Presidency.

The forty-fourth Congress was the last of which the Hon. William A.

Wheeler of New York was a member. He was elected Vice-president

in 1876, and the duties of that office have rarely been discharged

by an abler or more courteous officer. He was highly esteemed

by his associates during his long service in the House. His

principle in action seemed ever to be, "there is nothing so kingly

as kindness."

Messrs. Hale and Frye of Maine, Aldrich of Rhode Island, Money

of Mississippi, Taylor of Tennessee, and Elkins of West Virginia, were

members of this House; all of whom are now Senators of marked

ability, and well known to the entire country.

A member of this House, who at a later date, and in the other wing

of the Capitol, achieved yet greater distinction, was the Hon.

George F. Hoar of Massachusetts. At the close of this Congress he

was transferred to the Senate, where for more than a quarter of

a century he was a prominent leader. His ability and attainments were

of the highest, and he was the worthy successor of Webster in

the great body of which he was so long an honored member.

In addition to more solid qualities, Mr. Hoar was gifted with a

keen sense of humor, as will appear from one or two incidents to

be mentioned. In the House, Mr. Springer, in order to prevent the

reconsideration of resolutions and debate thereupon under the rules,

had frequently cut off the possibility of such debate by the timely

interposition of the words, "Not to be brought back on a motion to

reconsider." Now, it so fell out that upon a certain day Mr.

Springer received a telegram calling him home just as the roll-call

was ordered upon an important bill. Earnestly desiring to vote--

which owing to the early departure of his train was impossible

if he waited until his name was regularly reached upon the roll

--he moved to the front of the Speaker, and after brief explanation,

asked unanimous consent to vote at once. Permission was of course

granted, his name at once called, and his vote given. Grateful

for the courtesy, he bowed repeatedly to each side of the Chamber,

and, hurrying up the aisle, was about to take his exit, when Mr.

Hoar, pointing his finger at the retreating figure, solemnly

exclaimed, "Not to be _brought back_ upon a motion to reconsider!"

At a much later day the Senate was "advising and consenting" over the

appointment of a distinguished gentleman whose name had just

been sent in for confirmation as Ambassador to an important European

Court. The gentleman in question had voted for the then incumbent

of the great office, but his former political affiliations had been

wholly with the opposing party. The nomination was about being

confirmed without objection when Mr. Hoar, arising with apparent

reluctance, said:

"As this is in some measure a family affair, Mr. President, I

hesitate to interfere. If our friends upon the opposite side of

the Chamber are satisfied with this appointment, I certainly shall

interpose no objection. The gentleman named is well qualified,

and has more than once held high place at the hands of the party

which he has but recently deserted, and to which he will no

doubt return in due time. We have, however, in New England an

old-time custom, as sacred as if part of the written law, that if a

man is so unfortunate as to lose his companion he will not marry

again within one year. Now sir, I have always thought this rule, as

to time, might well be applied to the matter of office-seeking.

Where a man has been repeatedly honored by his party as this

appointee has been, but where, prompted by motives purely unselfish

no doubt, he has gone over to the camp of the enemy, I think a due

sense of modestly should impel him _to serve in the ranks at least

one year_ before being an applicant for high office at the hands

of his newly found friends."

Coming over to the Democratic side of the Chamber, well to its

front sat the Hon. William R. Morrison of Illinois. By virtue

of his position as Chairman of the Committee on Ways and Means

he was the traditional leader of the House. Possessing little

of the brilliancy of the leader of the minority, Colonel Morrison was

none the less one of the ablest and most useful members of that

body. He had for many sessions been a member of the House, and

had been a soldier in the Mexican and in the Civil War. His record

was honorable, both as soldier and legislator. He was the author of

the Tariff Bill which was fully debated during the first session

of that Congress, and was in some measure a determining factor

in the Presidential campaign that soon followed. At a later

day, Colonel Morrison was a prominent candidate for nomination

as President by the national convention of his party. His personal

friendships and antagonisms were well known. It is related of him

that during a serious illness, apprehending that the dread messenger

was in near waiting, arousing himself to what appeared to be a last

effort, he said in scarcely audible tones to a sorrowing colleague

at his bedside: "I suppose when this is all over they will have

something to say about me, as is the custom, in the House. Well, if

Springer, and Cox, and Knott, and Stevenson want to talk, let them

go ahead, but if old Spears tries to speak _just cough him down."_

Never in any political gathering has there been a more effective

speech, of a single sentence, than that in which Colonel

Morrison presented to the Democratic caucus of the House members

the name of the "Blind Preacher" for Chaplain. Three or four

candidates were already in nomination when Morrison arose and said:

"Mr. Chairman, I present for the office of Chaplain of the House

the name of Doctor Milburn, a man who loves God, pays his debts, and

votes the Democratic ticket!" Before the applause that followed

had entirely died away the names of his competitors were withdrawn,

and the "Blind Preacher" was nominated by acclamation.

The Hon. William M. Springer, of the same State, had just entered upon

his twenty years of continuous service in the House. He came

promptly to the front as a ready debater and skilful parliamentarian.

He was thoroughly educated, ambitious, and withal an excellent

speaker, and was the possessor in full measure of the _suaviter in

modo._ His personal popularity was great, and a more obliging,

agreeable, and pleasing associate it would have been difficult to

find. He was optimistic to the last degree. To him every cloud

had a silver lining,--the lining generally concealing the cloud.

It was said of him by one of his colleagues that when the election

returns were coming in, showing overwhelming defeat to his party,--

even before they were fully summed up,--Mr. Springer with

beaming countenance would promptly demonstrate by figures of his

own how we were sure to be victorious four years later.

The Hon. Carter H. Harrison was a prominent member of the Illinois

delegation. He soon took high rank as an orator, and never failed

to command the attention of the House. Few speeches delivered

during that session of Congress were so generally published, or

more extensively quoted than were those of Mr. Harrison. At the

end of four years' service in Congress he was elected Mayor of

Chicago, an office he filled most acceptably for many years.

His tragic death, upon the concluding day of the great Exposition,

was universally deplored throughout the entire country.

The Hon. John H. Reagan, of Texas, was a Representative in Congress

before the war. At its beginning he resigned his seat in the House,

and cast in his fortunes with the South. He was early selected

a member of the Davis Cabinet, and continued to discharge the duties

of Postmaster-General until the fall of the Confederacy. He was

a citizen of Texas while it was yet a Republic, and took an active

part in securing its admission to the Federal Union. Judge Reagan

was a gentleman of recognized ability, and of exceedingly courteous

and dignified bearing.

An old-time statesman, on the same side of the Chamber, was the

Hon. Fernando Wood of New York. A generation had passed since

he first entered Congress. He was a Representative in the old hall

of the Capitol while Webster, Calhoun, and Clay were in their prime.

Erect, stately, faultless in his attire, and of bearing almost

chivalric, Mr. Wood was long one of the active and picturesque

personages of the House. At the time whereof we write, his sands were

almost run, but, courageous to the last, he was in his accustomed seat

but a little time before the final summons came, and he died, as

was his wish, with the harness on. All in all, we shall hardly

see his like again.

Surrounded by his colleagues near the centre of the hall sat one

of the most remarkable men of his day, philosopher, jurist, statesman,

orator, Lucius Q. C. Lamar of Mississippi. In his early manhood

he was a member of the House, and even then was recognized as one of

the most brilliant of the many brilliant men his section had sent to

the national councils. During the war his services in field and

council were given to the South, and something less than a decade

after the return of peace, Mr. Lamar, still in his prime, again

took his seat in the hall where his first laurels had been won.

His great speech--one that touched all hearts--was not long delayed;

the occasion was the day set apart in the House for tributes to

the memory of the lamented Sumner. Many eulogies were delivered; that

of Lamar still lingers in the memory of all who heard it. "The

theme was worthy the orator; the orator, the theme." As a splendid

tribute to a great tribune, as a plea for peace,--abiding, eternal,

between all sections of a restored union,--it stands unsurpassed

among the great masterpieces of ancient or modern eloquence.

Later, Mr. Lamar was a prominent participant in one of the fiercest

debates the Senate has ever known. A leading Senator upon the

opposite side of the chamber, in advocating the passage of the

"Force bill," reflected bitterly upon Mississippi and her Senators.

In replying to the personal portion of the speech, Lamar said, "the

Senator has uttered upon this floor a falsehood--knowing it to

be such. The language I have used, Mr. President, is severe.

It was so intended. It is language, sir, that no honest man would

deserve, _and that no brave man will wear!"_

Mr. Lamar was one of the most absent-minded of men. A number of

years ago, by invitation of the Faculty, he delivered an address

to the graduating class of Centre College, Kentucky. The day

was quite warm, the exercises somewhat protracted, and, at the

close of his able and eloquent address, he was very much exhausted.

An excellent collation, prepared by the ladies connected with

the College, was served in the chapel near by, at the close of the

exercises. Seated upon the platform, with Mr. Lamar at the head

of the table, were Doctor Young, the President, Justice Harlan,

Governor Knott, the Rev. Doctor Bullock, Chaplain of the Senate,

Judge McCormick, and others.

At the plate of each guest a large tomato was in readiness and,

excellent itself, was, moreover, the earnest of better things to

come. Immediately upon being seated, Mr. Lamar "fell to" and,

wholly oblivious of the surroundings, soon made way with the one

viand then in visible presence. Just as its last vestige disappeared,

the President of the College arose and, with a solemnity eminently

befitting the occasion, called upon Doctor Bullock to offer thanks.

Deeply chagrined, Mr. Lamar was an attentive listener to the

impressive invocation which immediately followed. At its conclusion,

with troubled countenance, he turned to Knott and said, "I am

humiliated at my conduct. I should have remembered that Presbyterians

always say grace before meals, but I was very hungry and exhausted,

and the tomato very tempting; I have really disgraced myself." To

which Knott replied, "You ought not to feel so, Mr. Justice; the

blessing of Doctor Bullock's was broad and general; in large measure

retrospective as well as prospective. It reminds me of a little

incident that occurred on the 'Rolling Fork.' An old-time deacon down

there was noted for the lengthy blessing which at his table was

the unfailing prelude to every meal. His hired man, Bill Taylor, an

unconverted and impatient youth, had fallen into the evil habit of

commencing his meal before the blessing thereon had been fully

invoked. The frown and rebuke of the good deacon were alike

unavailing in effecting the desired reform. Righteously indignant

thereat, the deacon, in a spirit possibly not the most devout,

at length gave utterance to this petition, 'For what we are _about

to_ receive, and for what William Taylor _has already_ received,

accept our thanks, O Lord!"

In cheery tones the great orator at once replied, "Knott, you

are the only man on earth who could have thought of such a story

just at the opportune moment." The temporary depression vanished;

Lamar was himself again, and was at once the brilliant conversationalist

of the delighted assemblage.

The surviving members of that Congress will recall a little chair that

daily rolled down the aisle to the front to the Speaker's desk.

It contained the emaciated form of a man whose weight at his best was

but ninety pounds--Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia, "whose little

body lodged a mighty mind." No one who saw Mr. Stephens could ever

forget him. He looked as though he had just stepped out from

an old picture, or dropped down from the long-ago. There was

probably as little about him "of the earth, earthy" as of any mortal

this world has known. Upon his weak frame time had done its work,

and, true it is, "the surest poison is time." And yet, his feeble

piping voice--now scarcely heard an arm's length away--was potent in

the contentions of the great hall when he was the honored associate of

men whose public service reached back to the formation of the Government.

In the old hall near by--now the Valhalla of the nation--he had

sat with John Quincy Adams and contemporaries whose names at

once recall the Revolutionary period. After serving as Vice-President

of the Confederacy, whose rise and fall he had witnessed, Mr.

Stephens, with the shadows falling about him, was, by unanimous

voice of his people, again, in his own words, "in our father's

house." His apartments in the old National Hotel, as he never

failed to explain to his visitors, were those long ago occupied by

his political idol, Henry Clay. His couch stood in the exact spot

where Mr. Clay had died; and he no doubt thought--possibly wished--

that his own end might come just where that great Commoner had

breathed his last. This, however, was not to be. His last hours were

spent at the capital of his native commonwealth, which had, with

scarce a dissenting voice, just honored itself by electing him

to its chief executive office.

The Hon. Samuel J. Randall, of Pennsylvania, was the successor

of the lamented Kerr as Speaker of the House. As such he presided

during the last session of the forty-fourth Congress, and during

the two Congresses immediately succeeding. He had long been a

member, coming in with Blaine and Garfield just before the close

of the war. Able, courageous, and thoroughly skilled in parliamentary

tactics, he had achieved a national reputation as the leader of the

minority in the forty-third Congress. During the protracted and

exciting struggle near its close, over the Force Bill--the House

remaining in continuous session for fifty-six hours--Mr. Randall

had displayed wonderful endurance and marvellous capacity for

successful leadership. He was more than once presented by his

State in Democratic national conventions for nomination to the

Presidency. He was an excellent presiding officer, prompt,

often aggressive, and was rarely vanquished in his many brilliant passages

with the leaders of the minority. One incident is recalled, however,

when the tables were turned against the Speaker, no one joining

more heartily than himself in the laugh that followed. Mr. Conger,

of Michigan, with great earnestness and persistency, was urging

the consideration of a resolution which the Speaker had repeatedly

declared out of order. By no means disconcerted by the decision, Mr.

Conger, walking down the aisle, was vehement in his demand for the

immediate consideration of his resolution. At which the Speaker

with much indignation said, "Well, I think the Chair has a right

to exercise a little common sense in this matter." To which Mr.

Conger instantly responded, "Oh, if the Chair has the slightest

intention of _doing anything of that kind,_ I will immediately take

my seat!"

The Hon. David Dudley Field, elected to fill a vacancy, was a

Representative from the city of New York during the closing session

of the forty-fourth Congress. He was an eminent lawyer, and, at

the time, stood at the head of the American bar. His name is

inseparably associated with many important reforms in legal procedure

during the last half century. He had been instrumental in securing

the appointment of a committee of distinguished jurists, chosen

from the leading nations, to prepare the outlines of an international

code. His report accompanying the plan, to the preparation of

which he had given much thought and time, received the earnest

commendation of leading publicists and jurists in Europe, as well as

in his own country. His untiring efforts, looking to the substitution

of international courts of arbitration for war, have given his name

honored place among the world's benefactors.

Mr. Field was the eldest of four brothers, whose names are known

wherever our language is spoken. The family was distinguished for

talents of the highest order. It would indeed be difficult to find

its counterpart in our history. One of the brothers, Stephen J.

Field, was for a third of a century a distinguished justice of the

Supreme Court of the United States. The youngest, Dr. Henry M.

Field, was eminent alike as theologian and author. The name of

the remaining brother, Cyrus W. Field, is, and will continue, a

household word in two hemispheres. After repeated failures, to

the verge even of extremity, "the trier of spirits," the dream of his

life became a reality. The Atlantic cable was laid, and, in the words

of John Bright, Mr. Field had "moored the New World alongside the Old."

The Hon. Henry Watterson, of Kentucky, was a representative during

the closing session of Congress. As the editor of a great journal,

Mr. Watterson was already well known to the country. His talents were

of a high order. In his chosen field he had no superior. For many

years he was a recognized leader of his party, and one of the chief

managers in all its national conventions. His contributions to the

literature of three decades of political campaigns were almost

unparalleled. As a forcible, trenchant writer he is to be mentioned

with Greeley, Raymond, Prentice, and Dana. His career, too, as

a public lecturer, has been both successful and brilliant. The

Congressional service of Mr. Watterson terminated with the session

just mentioned. His speech, near its close, upon the bill creating

an electoral commission to determine the Tilden-Hayes Presidential

controversy was listened to with earnest attention, and at once

gave him high place among the great debaters of that eventful

Congress.

While a passenger on a train to Washington, to be present at the

opening of Congress, my attention was directed to a man of venerable

appearance, who entered the sleeping-car at a station not many

miles out from Cincinnati. He was dressed in "Kentucky jeans" and

had the appearance of a well-to-do farmer. Standing in the aisle near

me, he was soon engaged in earnest conversation with the porter,

endeavoring to secure a berth. The porter repeatedly assured

him that this was impossible, as every berth was taken. He told the

porter that he was quite ill, and must get on his journey. I then

proposed that he share my berth for the night. He gladly did so

until other accommodations were provided.

On the Monday following, when the House was in the process of

organization, the name of James D. Williams of Indiana being called,

my sleeping-car acquaintance, still attired in blue jeans, stepped

forward with his colleagues to the Speaker's desk and was duly

sworn in as a member of Congress. This was his first term, but he

soon became quite well known to the country. As chairman of the

Committee of Accounts, having to do with small expenditures, he

closely scrutinized every claim presented, and scaled to the lowest

many pet measures. His determination to economize, as well as his

peculiarity of dress and appearance, soon made him an especial

object of amusement to newspaper correspondents. He was the butt of

many cheap jokes; one being his alleged complaint that hundreds of

towels were being daily used by members at the Capitol, at the

public expense, while at his home, on his farm, one towel would

last a week, with eleven in the family. Despite, however, all

jokes and gibes, he soon became the most popular man in his State.

"Blue Jeans Williams" became a name to conjure with; and in the

celebrated campaign of 1876, after an exciting contest, he was

elected Governor, defeating an able and popular leader, who, twelve

years later, was himself elected President of the United States.

No sketch of "the American Commons" during the last fifty years

would be in any measure complete that failed to make mention of

the man who was nineteen times elected a Representative, the

Hon. William S. Holman, of Indiana. Whatever the ups and downs of

party supremacy, despite all attempts by gerrymandering to relegate

him to the shades of private life, Judge Holman, with unruffled

front, "a mien at once kindly, persuasive, and patient," held

sturdily on his way. Amid political upheavals that overwhelmed

all his associates upon the ticket, his name, like that of Abou Ben

Adhem, led all the rest. From Pierce to McKinley--whatever the

issues, and howsoever determined--at each successive organization of

the House "the gentleman from Indiana" was an unfailing respondent

to the opening roll-call. An old English stanza comes to mind:

"And this is law, that I'll maintain

Until my dying day, sir,

That whatsoever King shall reign,

Still I'll be vicar of Bray, sir."

His integrity was unquestioned; his knowledge of public business,

phenomenal. With no brilliancy, little in the way of oratory, Judge

Holman was nevertheless one of the most valuable members ever known to

the House of Representatives. The Lobby regarded him as its mortal foe.

He was for years the recognized "watch-dog of the Treasury." Personal

appeals to his courtesy, to permit the present consideration of private

bills, had, in the main, as well have been made to a marble statue.

His well known and long to be remembered, "I object, Mr. Speaker,"

sounded the knell of many a well devised raid upon the Treasury. It

may be that he sometimes prevented the early consideration of meritorious

measures, but with occasional exceptions his objections were

wholesome. He kept in close touch with the popular pulse, and

knew, as if by instinct, which would be the safe and which the

dangerous side of the pending measure. It sometimes seemed that

he could even "look into the seeds of time and tell which grain

will grow and which will not."

It has been said that even great men have at times their little

weaknesses. An incident to be related will show that possibly

Judge Holman was no exception to that rule. The consideration

of sundry bills for the erection of post-office buildings in a

number of districts having "gone over" by reason of his objection,

the members having the bills in charge joined forces and lumped

the several measures into an "omnibus bill" which was duly presented.

The members especially interested in its passage, to "make assurance

doubly sure," had quietly inserted a provision for the erection of a

Government building in one of the cities of Holman's district. When

the bill was read, Judge Holman, as he sat busily writing at his

desk, was, without solicitation upon his part, the closely observed

of every member. Apparently oblivious, however, to all that was

occurring, he continued to write. No objection being made, the

bill was in the very act of passing when an exceedingly bright

member from Wisconsin, "being moved and instigated by the devil," no

doubt, rushed to the front and exclaimed, "Mr. Speaker, I desire

to call the attention of the gentleman from the fourth district of

Indiana to the fact that the Treasury is being robbed!" Unmoved

by the appeal, the Judge continued to write, and, as one of his

colleagues afterwards remarked, "was chewing his tobacco very fine."

After a moment of suspense, and amid applause in which even the

galleries took part, the member from Wisconsin, in tragic tones,

exclaimed, "Ah, Mr. Speaker, our watch-dog of the Treasury, like

all other good watch-dogs, _never barks when his friends are

around!"_

Mr. Blackburn, of Kentucky, began his long and eventful legislative

career as a member of this Congress. As the representative of the

Ashland District, he was the successor of Clay, Crittenden, Marshall,

Breckenridge, Beck--illustrious names in the history of the State and

of the nation. He was worthy of the succession, and, at the close

of ten years' service in the House, was elected to the Senate. He

came within a few votes of being chosen as the candidate of his

party for Speaker at the opening of the forty-sixth Congress. He

was a born orator. It was as natural for him to speak as to breathe.

Wake him up at any hour of the night, and he would be ready upon

the instant for an eloquent speech of any length, upon any subject.

Thoroughly familiar with all that pertained to our political history,

with a voice easily heard above the storm, he was ever in the

forefront of the hurly-burly of heated partisan debate. There was

little that was conciliatory about him. He neither gave nor asked

quarter. A born fighter, he had rather

"Follow his enemy through a fiery gulf,

Than flatter him in a bower."

Possessing neither the keen wit of his colleague, McKenzie, nor

the profound humor of Knott, he was nevertheless the hero of

more interesting narratives than any member who ever crossed the

Blue Ridge Mountains.

The incident to be related may have suggested the witty reply of

Senator Proctor to the Vice-President when invited by the latter

to come into the devotional exercises: "Excuse me, I am _paired_ with

Blackburn on prayers." This equals his reply when asked by Senator

Hale what he thought of Senator Chandler: "I _like_ him, but it

is an acquired taste."

Upon the occasion of the retirement of the Rev. Dr. Butler from

the Chaplaincy of the Senate--a position he had filled most acceptably

for many years--many of the Senators spoke regretfully of his

retirement. The speech of Mr. Blackburn, for beauty of expression

and pathetic eloquence, was unrivalled. He spoke most tenderly of

the faithfulness of the venerable man of God; how for long years

he had gone in and out before us; of his daily walk and conversation;

how, like the Blessed Master, his only thought was of doing good;

of how he had often invoked the Divine blessing upon us and our

loved ones, and lifted us as it were in his arms up to the very

throne of grace. The orator seemed inspired, as though his lips

were indeed touched with a live coal from the altar. The counterpart

of the scene that followed his closing words had never been witnessed

in legislative assembly. All were in tears. It was even said that

venerable Senators, who had never shed a tear since the ratification

of the treaty of Ghent, actually sobbed aloud, and refused to be

comforted. At length, amid silence that could be felt, an adjournment

was effected, and the Senators passed sadly out to their homes.

As he passed the Chair, Senator Vest, in undertone, remarked to

the Vice-President, _"Jo never saw him!"_

The next day, in the absence of his successor, "the blind chaplain,"

Dr. Butler again, and for the last time, officiated, simply repeating

in manner most solemn and impressive, the Lord's Prayer. At its

conclusion, Senator Blackburn, who had been a most attentive

listener, came forward to the desk and remarked to Vice-President

Stevenson: "I tell you, sir, I like that new chaplain of ours.

What a splendid prayer! There is something _original_ about that man!"

Thirty years and more ago, when first a candidate for Congress,

Mr. Blackburn attended a public execution--in common parlance "a

hanging"--in one of the counties in his district. Being a gentleman

of great distinction, and a candidate for Congress, he was

appropriately invited by the sheriff to occupy a seat with the

prisoner and his spiritual adviser upon the gallows. At the

near approach of the fatal hour, the sheriff, with watch in hand, amid

the sea of upturned faces, stated to the prisoner that he had

yet five minutes to live, and it was his privilege if he so desired

to address the audience. The prisoner meekly replied that he

did not wish to speak. Whereupon Mr. Blackburn, stepping promptly

to the front of the scaffold, said: "As the gentleman does not

wish to speak, if he will kindly yield me his time, I will take

this occasion to remark that I am a candidate for Congress, regularly

nominated by the Democratic Convention," etc. This incident being

told in the presence of Mr. Marshall, the opposing candidate,

the latter remarked that he remembered it well, and could vouch

for its truth. He then added that when Mr. Blackburn proposed

to speak out the prisoner's time, the latter turned to the Sheriff

and inquired who that was. To which the officer replied, "Captain

Blackburn." At this the prisoner, who had amid all the exciting

scenes of his arrest and trial, and even up to the present moment,

with his open coffin beside him, displayed marvellous fortitude,

suddenly exhibiting deep emotion, piteously exclaimed, "Please hang

me first, _and let him speak afterwards!"_

When, in the tide of time, will the House of Representatives witness

the like of "Sunset" Cox? Beginning a Congressional career, which

was to terminate only with his death, when scarcely of the

constitutional age, he was in close succession a representative

from two great States,--in his early manhood from the Capital

district of Ohio, and in his maturer years, even down to old age, the

most prominent of the delegation from the great State of New York.

Mr. Cox was gifted as few men have been in this world. His literary

attainments were of a high order, and some of the books of which

he was the author will no doubt furnish instructive and entertaining

reading for many generations to come. He was an indefatigable

student, and seemed, as did Lord Bacon, to have "taken all knowledge

for his province." His accurate knowledge of the history of all

countries and times was a marvel, and, all at his instant command,

placed him upon rare vantage ground in the many forensic struggles

in which he took part. Woe betide the unfortunate antagonist whose

record was other than faultless. He was a born debater, full of

resources, and aggressive to the last degree. He never waited for

opportunities, but sought them. In great emergencies he was often

put forward by his political associates for the fierce encounter

with the great leaders upon the opposite side of the Chamber.

He was withal one of the most kindly of men. He was the soul of

personal and official honor. His integrity could know no

temptation. It may truly be said of him that--

"Whatever record leaps to light,

He never can be shamed."

His sympathies were deeply enlisted for the safety of those "who

go down to the sea in ships." For years he was the earnest advocate

of a thorough life-saving system. Much of the present efficiency of

this humane branch of the public service is due to his untiring

efforts. He had travelled to all countries, and even to the islands

of the sea. He was of sunny disposition, and believed that "whatever

places the eye of Heaven visits are to the wise man ports and happy

havens."

Mr. Cox was one of the most genial and delightful of associates.

With him and Vance, Knott, and Randolph Tucker as companions for

the social hour, the night would flee away like a shadow. His wit

was of the rarest order. He would have been on terms of recognized

kinship with Sydney Smith and Charles Lamb. He once said of a

vinegar-visaged member that the only regret he had on earth was

that there were no more commandments to keep; what few there were he

kept so easily. As illustrating his readiness and elasticity,

whatever the emergency, two instances, out of the many that crowd

upon memory, will be given. During an all-night session of the

House, amid great confusion, the roll-call was ordered. The first

name, "Mr. Archer," was called, and the response "Aye" was given.

The clerk, failing to hear the response, immediately repeated, "Mr.

Archer," to which the latter, in tones heard above the din of many

voices, again answered "Aye." Instantly Mr. Cox exclaimed:

"Insatiate Archer, would not one suffice?"

A new member from a district far to the westward entered the House.

His advoirdupois was in keeping with the vast territorial area

he represented. As a wit, he was without a rival in his section.

The admiration of his constituents over the marvellous attainments

of the new member, scarcely exceeded his own. Only the opportunity

was wanting when the star of the gentleman from New York should go

down and his own be in the ascendant. The opportunity at length

came. Mr. Cox was the victim of the hour; the recipient of many

compliments much more fervid than kind. The seven vials of wrath were

opened upon him. A vast storehouse of wit, ancient and modern,

was literally exhausted for the occasion. Even the diminutive size

of the New York member was mentioned in terms of disparagement.

The speech caused much merriment in the House during its delivery,

and its author with an air of self-satisfaction rarely witnessed

even in that body, resumed his seat. Mr. Cox at once took the

floor. No attempt will be made to do justice to his speech.

The manner, the tone of voice, which caused an uproar upon the

floor and in the galleries, can never find their way into print.

Referring to the ill-mannered allusion to his size, he said "that his

constituents preferred a representative with brains, rather than

one whose only claims to distinction consisted in an abnormal

abdominal development." In tragic tones he then pronounced a

funeral eulogy over his assailant, and suggested, as a fitting

inscription for his tombstone, the pathetic words of Byron,

"'T is Greece, but living Greece no more!"

Soon after the nomination of Tilden for President, Mr. Cox was

invited to attend a political meeting at the State capital, and

address the Democracy of Vermont. When the scarcity of Democrats in

the Green Mountain State is taken into account, the significance

of Mr. Cox's reply will readily appear. His telegram was to the

effect that pressing engagements prevented his attending, but

"if the Democracy of Vermont _will drop into my library_ any

afternoon, about four o'clock, I will address them with great

pleasure."

In attempting to write something of a member so long and so favorably

known to the House as the Hon. J. Proctor Knott of Kentucky, I

am reminded of the opening sentences of the touching tribute of

Judge Baldwin to an honored associate:

"I nib my pen and impart to it a fine hair stroke in order that

I may give the more delicate touch which can alone show forth

the character of this distinguished gentleman. If I hold the pen in

hand in idle reverie, it is because my mind rests lovingly upon

a picture I feel incapable of transcribing with fidelity to the

original; and therefore I pause a moment to look once more at

the original, before it is obscured by the rude counterpart."

It was worth while to have known Proctor Knott, to have been his

cotemporary in public life, the sharer of his confidence, the guest

at his hearthstone. In the highest sense of the expression, he

was a gentleman of the old school. To him there was rare meaning in

the words, "Old wood to burn! Old wine to drink! Old friends

to trust!"

He was as familiar with the Bible, with Shakespeare, and Burns, as

though he had written them. His quotations, whether in private

conversation, or in public speech, were always timely. There

was little in the way of the best literature, ancient or modern,

that he had not read. As was truly said of the gifted Prentiss:

"His imagination was colored and imbued with the light of the

shadowy past. He lingered spell-bound among the scenes of mediaeval

chivalry. His spirit had dwelt until almost naturalized in the

mystic dreamland of the Paladins, Crusaders, and Knights Templars;

with Monmouth and Percy, with Bois-Guilbert and Ivanhoe and the

bold McGregor; with the Cavaliers of Rupert, and the iron enthusiasts

of Fairfax."

He was the inveterate hater of shams of all kinds, and of mere

pretenders of every description. He ever avoided the short cuts, and

kept steadily along in the old way. His heroes, like those of

Dickens, were taken from the common walk; the men he had met in

the road and at the hustings, at whose firesides he had passed many

hours. Whatever concerned them, whatever involved in any manner

their welfare, was of deep interest to him. If he had chosen

his own epitaph it might have read:

"In common ways, with common men,

I served my race and time."

He was both an artist and a poet. He loved flowers, and there was

to his ears no music so sweet as the merry laughter of children.

And, whether in private life, or in his great executive office

as "the arbiter of human fate," the tale of woe never failed to

touch a sympathetic cord. He had in very deed,

"A tear for pity, and a hand open as day to melting

charity."

He was welcome at every hearthstone, as one "who cometh unto you

with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the

chimney corner."

Soon after his admission to the bar, Mr. Knott removed to Missouri,

where he was almost immediately elected to the responsible position

of Attorney-General of the State. In due time he returned to

his native State, and was for six terms a representative in Congress.

Yet later, and as the shadows were beginning to fall to the eastward,

he was, almost by common acclaim, called to the chief executive

office of the commonwealth. It may truly be said of him that "with

clear head, and with clean hands, he faithfully discharged every

public trust."

Mr. Knott entered Congress just at the close of the great Civil

War. It was a period of excitement throughout the entire country,

and of intense foreboding to the section he represented. In the

debates of that stormy period he bore no mean part. He was counted

a foeman worthy the steel of the ablest who entered the lists.

A thorough student from the beginning, of all that pertained to

Magna Charta, the Bill of Rights, and the Federal Constitution, he

was equipped as few men have been, for forensic contests that have

left their deep impress upon history. The evidence of his ability

as a lawyer is to be found in the satisfactory manner in which for

three Congresses he discharged the duties of the trying position

of Chairman of the Judiciary Committee of the House of Representatives.

The ablest lawyers of both political parties constituted this great

committee, and its chairman, if possessing only mediocre talents

or attainments, would have been sadly out of place.

But with his heavy armor laid aside, the genius of Knott was

made manifest along more pleasing lines. Few speeches ever delivered

in Congress have been so generally read, or so thoroughly imbedded

into current literature, as one he delivered soon after his

first admission to the House. Duluth awoke the morning after

its delivery to find itself famous. As, "the zenith city of the

unsalted seas," it has been known and read of all men. As such,

it will probably continue to be known for ages to come. The speech

hopelessly defeated a bill making a land grant to a proposed

railroad, of which Duluth was to be the terminus. His mirthful

prediction, however, as to its marvellous future has been fulfilled.

How true it is that "jesters do oft prove prophets!" Bearing in

mind that the great city of to-day then had no place even upon the

map, the words quoted from the speech will be appreciated:

"Duluth, Duluth! The word fell upon my ear with peculiar and

indescribable charm, like the gentle murmur of a brook stealing

forth in the midst of roses, or the soft sweet accent of an angel's

whisper in the bright joyous dream of sleeping innocence. Duluth!

'T was the name for which my soul had panted for years, as the hart

panteth for the water brooks. I was convinced that the greatest

calamity that ever befell the benighted nations of the ancient

world was their having passed away without a knowledge of the actual

existence of Duluth; that their fabled Atlantis, never seen save

by the hallowed vision of inspired poesy, was in fact but another name

for Duluth; that the golden orchard of the Hesperides was but a

poetical synonym for the beer-gardens in the vicinity of Duluth. As

that name first fell upon my ear, a resplendent scene of ineffable

glory opened before me, such as I imagine burst upon the enraptured

visions of the wandering Peri through the opening gates of

Paradise."

Mr. Knott was often the sad and silent man. His real intimacies

were few, and to strangers he was reserved. But to those who came

within the circle of his personal friendship he was one of the most

delightful of companions. No man was ever given less to a

parade either of his friendships or of his animosities. His enemies

--and it would have been strange if, passing through the eventful scenes

he did, he had had none--knew just where to find him. He was,

in very truth,

"Lofty and sour to them that loved him not;

But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer."

The cause often of mirth in others, he was at times far from being

joyous himself. Few men have been the possessors in so rare degree

of the gift of humor, the sure indication of the humane and

sympathetic in our nature; that "which blends the pathetic with

the ludicrous, and by the same stroke moves to laughter and to

tears." As Emerson says, "Both an ornament and a safeguard--genius

itself." The line of separation between wit and humor is shadowy,

not easily defined. There may be in the same individual, in

some measure, a blending of the two. As has been said: "While

wit is a purely intellectual thing, into every act of the humorous

mind there is an influx of the moral nature. Humor springs up

exuberantly, as from a fountain, and runs on, its perpetual game

to look with considerate good-nature at every object in existence,

and dismiss it with a benison." While wit, the purely intellectual

quality, sparkles and stings, humor, "touched with a feeling of

our infirmity," would "gently scan thy brother man," remembering

ever that

"What's done we partly may compute,

But know not what's resisted."

It is not strange, then, that he who in large degree possesses

or is possessed by this subtle quality should be subject to moods,

it may be melancholy--"the effect of that humor that sometime hath

his hour with every man." That Governor Knott was deeply endowed with

humor in its best sense, no one who knew him could doubt. In

relating incidents that convulsed his listeners, he gave no

sign; his own features remained as solemn as if he were attending the

obsequies of his dearest friend. There is something that is

suggestive in the lines of Thomas Hood,

"There's not a string attuned to mirth

But has its chord in melancholy."

While Governor of Kentucky, he sent to the Hon. Stoddart Johnson

a certificate, officially signed and bearing the impress of the

great seal of State, duly commissioning him as "Mister," a distinctive

and honorable title that no Kentuckian had previously borne. This

recalls the witty remark of Max O'Rell: "The only thing that

Mr. Ingersoll appears to hold in common with his countrymen _is

the title of Colonel."_

Many years ago McCullough, the tragedian, was giving his

splendid impersonations of the two masterpieces of Shakespeare

at the national Capital. The morning following one of these,

Mr. Knott and I, passing along the avenue on our way to the House,

were stopped by an exceedingly solemn-visaged individual who,

addressing the former, said: "Mr. Knott, I would like to have your

judgment as to which is the best play, _Hamlet_ or _Macbeth."_

Gazing earnestly at his inquisitor, and in a tone at once deprecatory

and inimitable, Knott replied: "My friend, don't ask me that

question. I am a politician, and a candidate for re-election to

Congress; my district is about equally divided; Hamlet has his

friends down there, and Macbeth his, and I am unwilling _to take

any part between them!"_

When in joint canvass with his competitor for the Governorship

of the State, Mr. Knott, having, by appointment, at one of the

county seats in "the Purchase," made the opening speech, was seated

near by to listen to that of the opposing candidate. The latter, a

gentleman having a high sense of propriety, and a dignity of bearing

that would have done no discredit to an assembly of divines, had

been exceedingly annoyed by Knott's speech, which had in very truth

kept the audience in an uproar during its entire delivery. Beginning

his reply, he said:

"Fellow-citizens, I will endeavor to indicate to you the kind of

a man who, in my judgment, should be elected to the position of

Governor of this grand old commonwealth. In the first place, that

exalted position would never be filled by one who, for lack of

serious argument, constantly appeals to the risibilities of his

audience; never by a wit, a mere joker, a story-teller; in other

words--if you will pardon me, my fellow-citizens--by a mere buffoon.

On the contrary, the incumbent of the exalted position of chief

executive of this grand old commonwealth should be a gentleman

of character, of ability, the worthy successor of Shelby, of

Morehead, of Crittenden; he should be a gentleman of scholastic

attainments and of dignified bearing, well versed in classic lore

and a thorough student of the higher order of state-craft. In a

word, fellow-citizens, you should elect as your Governor a gentleman

of lofty character, of ripe scholarship, of commanding dignity, of

exalted statesmanship, of ----"

At this point, Knott, interrupting, said, in manner and tone the

exact counterpart of that of the speaker, "Pardon me, Colonel Smith,

but I am too modest a man to listen longer to the beautiful and

truthful description _you have just given of me!"_

Whereupon, amidst the wildest applause, he retired from the hall, as

did the audience, and the speaking for the day, and the joint

discussion for the campaign, were closed.

III

AGAIN IN CONGRESS

CHANGES IN THE PERSONNEL OF THE HOUSE CONTRASTED WITH THOSE IN THE

BRITISH HOUSE OF COMMONS--LEVI P. MORTON--MR. COVERT AND MR. SHELLEY

--GEN. JOSEPH E. JOHNSTON--TWO NOTABLE SPEECHES BY JAMES A. McKENZIE

--JOHN E. KENNA--BENJAMIN BUTTERWORTH--MR. KEIFER OF OHIO--MR.

CARLISLE OF KENTUCKY--SPEAKER REED--PRESIDENT McKINLEY--THE WRITER'S

SPEECH AT THE PEACE JUBILEE BANQUET, 1898.

After an absence of two years I was returned to the forty-sixth

Congress. Circumstances over which I had no control had prevented

my taking a seat in the intervening Congress, my successful competitor

being the Hon. Thomas F. Tipton. In politics, however, as in

other things, "the whirligig of time brings in his revenges," and I

was in turn the successful competitor of my late opponent in his

candidacy for re-election.

Meanwhile, many changes had occurred in the personnel of the House.

Many familiar names had been dropped from its roll. Of these, nine

had been transferred to that of the Senate, a former member was

now in the Cabinet, and Mr. Wheeler of New York was Vice-President.

A significant fact in this connection, and one illustrating the

uncertainty of the tenure by which place is held in that body, was

that more than one-third of those with whom I had so recently served

were now in private life. Possibly no feature of our governmental

system causes more astonishment to intelligent foreigners than the

many changes biennially occurring in the membership of the House

of Representatives. There is marked difference between the British

House of Commons, and the popular branch of the American Congress.

A seat lost in the latter--it may be by a single unfortunate

utterance, or unpopular vote--is usually a seat lost forever; while

in the former, membership may continue for an almost indefinite

period, and until an "appeal to the country" by the Ministry upon a

new and vital issue. If defeated by one constituency, the member of

Parliament may soon be returned by another, the question of residence

having no significance. In fact if possessing superior talents,

the member is liable to be chosen by two or more constituencies at

the same election, the choice then resting with himself as to which

he will represent. Such has been the experience of the most eminent

of British statesmen. The names of Burke, Peel, Gladstone, and

Balfour, quite recently, will readily be recalled in this connection.

In the little island the aspirant to legislative honors has several

hundred constituencies from which to choose, or be chosen, while

in the larger America his political fortunes are usually bound

up in his own residence district.

Upon the roll of the House in the new Congress, called in

special session in March, 1879, in addition to some heretofore

mentioned, were names well known to the country. Of these none is

more worthy of honorable mention than that of the Hon. Levi P.

Morton of New York. In the business world his name was a synonym for

integrity. The head of a great banking house, he was almost as

well known in the principal cities of Europe as in the great city of

his residence. At the time of his first election to Congress

Mr. Morton was, by appointment of the President, an honorary

commissioner to the Paris Exposition. At the close of his legislative

career he held successively the honored positions of Ambassador to

France, Vice-President of the United States, and Governor of New

York. In Congress, Mr. Morton was the able representative of a

great constituency; as chief executive of his State his name is

worthy of mention with the most eminent of those who have been

called to that exalted station; as ambassador to a foreign court

the honor of his country was ever in safe keeping; as Vice-President,

he was the model presiding officer over the greatest deliberative body

known to men.

One of the brightest members of the New York delegation was the

Hon. James W. Covert of Flushing. Altogether he served ten years in

the House, and became in time one of its leading members. He was an

excellent lawyer, a delightful associate, and an able and ready debater.

That he was gifted with a touch of the humorous will appear from the

following. The House was passing through the agony of an all-night

session. Confusion reigned supreme. During it all, Mr. Shelley, from

one of the Gulf States, stood at his desk and repeatedly made the point

of order upon Covert, Springer, Kenna, McKenzie, and others, as they

successively addressed the Chair, that "The gentleman is not speaking

from his desk." The point of order was as repeatedly sustained by

the Speaker, the rules requiring members to address the Chair only

from their respective desks. The confusion at length became so

great that many members, in their eagerness to be heard, pressed

to the front. The voice of Mr. Shelley, however, was heard above the

din still calling for the enforcement of the rule; to which the

Speaker, his patience exhausted, now turned a deaf ear. Desperate

beyond measure, Mr. Shelley at length _left his own desk,_ and

taking his position immediately in front of the clerk's desk fiercely

demanded, "Mr. Speaker, I call for the enforcement of the rule."

At which Covert immediately exclaimed, "Mr. Speaker, I call for the

enforcement of _the rule in Shelley's case!"_

Almost directly in front of the Speaker's desk sat a gentleman,

small in stature, and of quiet dignified bearing, "The silent man,"

"whose voice was in his sword," General Joseph E. Johnston of

Virginia. Until this, his first election to Congress from the

Capital District of the Old Dominion, he had known none other than

military public service. He was a born soldier. No one who saw

him could mistake his calling. Napoleon did not more truly look

the soldier than did General Johnston. A graduate of West Point, his

first service was in the Black Hawk War, and later in Mexico. For

gallant conduct at the battle of Cerro Gordo, he was brevetted

colonel in the regular army. His last service was when, as

Lieutenant-General of the Confederate Army, he surrendered to

Sherman, thus ending the great Civil War. He had already reached the

allotted threescore years and ten when he entered Congress, and

its ordinary details apparently interested him but little. He

earnestly desired the return of the era of good feeling between

the North and South, and upon his motion the House duly adjourned in

honor of the day set apart for the decoration of the graves of

Union soldiers.

No member of this House attracted more attention than did the Hon.

James A. McKenzie of Kentucky, the representative from what in

local parlance was known as "the pennyryle district." He was

the youngest member of the body, tall, erect, and handsome. Mr.

McKenzie rendered a valuable service to his constituents and the

country during this Congress, by securing the passage of a bill

placing quinine upon the free list. His district was seriously

afflicted with the old-time fever and ague, and the reduction by

his bill to a nominal cost of the sure and only specific placed

his name high upon the list of benefactors.

Two of his kinsmen, one from Illinois, the other from Florida,

occupied seats immediately in his front. Addressing them one day,

he said: "It seems strange, indeed, that we three cousins--one

from Illinois, one from Florida, and one from Kentucky--are all

here together in Congress"; and then added, with apparent gravity,

"and _ours not an office-seeking family either!"_

As the session drew near its close, he made repeated efforts to

obtain unanimous consent for the consideration of a bill for the

erection of a Government building in the principal city of his

district. The interposition of the stereotyped "I object" had,

however, in each instance, proved fatal. During a night session, near

the close of the Congress, requests for recognition came to the

Speaker from all parts of the chamber. In the midst of the tumult

Mr. McKenzie arose and, addressing the Chair, stated with great

solemnity of manner that he arose to a question of personal

privilege. This at once arrested the attention of the Speaker,

and he requested the gentleman from Kentucky to state his question

of privilege. "I rise, Mr. Speaker," said McKenzie, "to a question

of the _highest_ privilege, one pertaining to the right of a member

to a seat upon this floor--_in the next Congress._ If I don't get

that post-office bill through now, my seat will be imperilled.

I beg the House for unanimous consent for its immediate consideration."

The House was convulsed; no objection was interposed, the bill was

considered and passed, and McKenzie's seat was safe for many years

to come.

Has there ever been a more feeling two-minutes' speech, than that of

McKenzie in the National Convention of 1892, when he arose to second

the nomination of Cleveland? After a night of intense excitement,

the convention was still in session at three o'clock in the morning.

A storm was raging without, while within, thousands in the great

hall were impatiently and loudly demanding an immediate vote. More

than one of the chief orators of the party,--men well known to the

country--had in vain attempted to be heard. Chaos seemed to

have come again at the crucial moment that McKenzie, standing upon

his chair in the centre of the vast enclosure, began: "If I speak

longer than two minutes, I hope that some honest half-drowned

Democrat will suspend my carcass from one of the cross-beams of

this highly artistic, but terribly leaky auditorium. Cleveland

needs no nomination from this convention. He has already been

nominated by the people all along the line--all the way from

Hell Gate to Yuba Dam!"

The bedlam that now broke loose exceeded all that had gone before.

The uproar drowned the voice of the orator within, and even, for

the time, called a halt upon the raging elements without. The

speech was never concluded. What might have been the closing words

of McKenzie's speech, with such a beginning, can never be known.

The effect of his opening, however, was instantaneous. It was the

immediate prelude to the overwhelming nomination of his candidate.

The Hon. John E. Kenna, of West Virginia, was just at the beginning

of a remarkably brilliant career. He was under thirty years of

age when he first entered Congress. At the close of his third term

in the House, he was elected to the United States Senate, and held

his seat in that body by successive elections until his death at

the early age of forty-four. He possessed rare gifts as a speaker,

and was an active participant in many of the important debates

during that eventful period. Senator Kenna was the beloved of his

State, and his early death brought sorrow to many hearts.

His manners were pleasing, and he was companionable to the last

degree. He often related an amusing incident that occurred in the

convention that first nominated him for Congress. His name was

presented by a delegate from the Crossroads in one of the mountain

counties, in substantially the following speech: "Mr. President, I

rise to present to this convention, as a candidate for Congress,

the name of John E. Kenna--the peer, sir, _of no man_ in the State

of West Virginia."

Among the new members elected to this Congress was the Hon. Benjamin

Butterworth of Ohio. His ability as a lawyer and his readiness in

debate soon gave him prominence, while his abundant good-nature

and inexhaustible fund of anecdotes made him a general favorite in

the House. One of his stories was of a Western member whose daily

walk and conversation at the national Capital was by no means up

to the orthodox home standard. The better element of his constituents

at length became disgusted, as reports derogatory to their member from

time to time reached them. A bolt in the approaching Congressional

convention was even threatened, and altogether serious trouble was

brewing. The demand was imperative upon the part of his closest

friends that he at once come home and face his accusers. Homeward

he at length turned his footsteps, and was met at the depot by a

large concourse of his friends and constituents. Hurriedly alighting

from the train and stepping upon the platform, with beaming

countenance and heart made glad by such an enthusiastic reception,

he thus began:

"Fellow-citizens, my heart is deeply touched as my eyes behold this

splendid assemblage of my constituents and friends gathered here

before and around me. During my absence in Congress my friends

have spoken in my vindication. I am here now to speak for myself.

Vile slanders have been put in circulation against me. I have been

accused of being a defaulter; I have been accused of being a

drunkard; I have been accused of being a gambler; but, thank

God, fellow-citizens, _no man has ever dared to assail my good

moral character!"_

One incident is related by Butterworth of a judge in his State who,

becoming thoroughly disgusted with the ease with which naturalization

papers were obtained, determined upon a radical reform. That

the pathway of the reformer--along this as other lines--was by

no means one of flowers will appear from the sequel. Immediately upon

taking his seat, the judge, with great earnestness of manner,

announced from the bench that thereafter no applicant could receive

from that court his final papers, entitling him to the exercise of

the high privilege of citizenship, unless he was able to read

the Constitution of the United States. A few mornings later,

Michael O'Connor, a well-known partisan of the Seventh Ward, appeared

in court accompanied by a diminutive-looking countryman, Dennis

Flynn by name. Mr. O'Connor stated to the judge that his friend

Dennis Flynn had already taken out his first papers, and the legal

time had passed, and he now wanted His Honor to grant him his final

papers. With much solemnity of manner the judge inquired whether

Mr. Flynn had ever read the Constitution of the United States.

Somewhat abashed by the unusual interrogatory, Mr. O'Connor looked

inquiringly at Mr. Flynn, at which the latter, wholly unconscious of

the purport of the inquiry, looked appealingly to Mr. O'Connor.

The latter then replied that he presumed he had not, at which

the judge, handing the applicant a copy of the revised statutes

containing the Constitution, admonished him to read it carefully.

Mr. Flynn, carrying the volume in his arms, and followed by his

patron, sadly left the court-room. Just eight minutes elapsed,

the door suddenly opened and both reappeared, Mr. O'Connor in front,

bearing the book aloft, and exclaiming, "Dinnie couldn't rade it,

Your Honor, but I rid it over to him, _and he is parefictly deloighted

wid it!"_

Three gentlemen, each of whom at a later day reached the Speakership,

had served but a single term in the House at the opening of the

forty-sixth Congress: Mr. Keifer of Ohio, Mr. Carlisle of Kentucky,

and Mr. Reed of Maine. Mr. Keifer was a gentleman of ability and of

exceedingly courteous manners. He took a prominent part in debate,

and was the immediate successor of Mr. Randall in the chair. After

an absence of twenty years he has again been returned to his seat in

the House.

Few abler men than Mr. Carlisle have been in the public service.

He was a recognized leader of his party from his first appearance in

the House, and an authority upon all questions pertaining to tariff

or finance. During his long service as Speaker he established

an enduring reputation as an able presiding officer; as possessing

in the highest degree "the cold neutrality of the impartial Judge."

While a Senator, he was appointed by President Cleveland to the

important position of Secretary of the Treasury. The duties of

that great office have never been discharged with more signal

ability.

Mr. Reed stood alone. He was unlike other men, a fact which probably

caused him little regret. Self-reliant, aggressive, of will

indomitable, he was a political storm centre during his entire

public career. His friends were devoted to him, and he was

never forgotten by his enemies. Whoever was brought into close

contact with him, usually carried away an impression by which to

remember him. Upon one occasion, in the House, when in sharp debate

with Mr. Springer, the latter quoted the familiar saying of Henry

Clay, "Sir, I would rather be right than be President." Mr. Reed,

in a tone far from reassuring, retorted, "The gentleman from Illinois

_will never be either!"_

The retort courteous, however, was not always from the lips of the

Speaker. Mr. Springer, having at one time repeatedly attempted,

but in vain, to secure the floor, at length demanded by what right

he was denied recognition. The Speaker intimated that such ruling

was in accord with the high prerogative of the Chair. To which

Springer replied:

"Oh, it is excellent

To have a giant strength; but 't is tyrannous

To use it like a giant."

Of immense physical proportions, towering above his fellows,

with voice by no means melodious, a manner far from conciliatory, a

capacity for sarcastic utterance that vividly recalled the days of

John Randolph and Tristram Burgess, and, withal, one of the ablest

men of his generation, Mr. Reed was in very truth a picturesque

figure in the House of Representatives. He apparently acted upon the

supposition of the philosopher Hobbes that war is the natural state

of man. The kindly admonition,

"Mend your ways a little

Lest they may mar your fortunes,"

if ever given him, was unheeded. In very truth,

"He stood,

As if a man were author of himself,

And knew no other kin."

No man in his day was more talked of or written about. At one time

his star was in the ascendent, and he seemed to be on the highroad

to the Presidency. His great ambition, however, was thwarted by

those of his own political household. At the close of a turbulent

session, while he was in the Chair, the usual resolution of thanks

to the Speaker "for the able, fair, and courteous manner in which he

had presided" was bitterly antagonized, and finally adopted only

by a strictly party vote. It was an event with a single antecedent

in our history, that of seventy-odd years ago, when the Whig minority

in the House opposed the usual vote of thanks to Speaker Polk upon

his retirement from the Chair. In the latter case, the cry of

persecution that was instantly raised had much to do with Mr. Polk's

almost immediate election to the Governorship of his State, and

his subsequent elevation to the Presidency. The parallel incident

in Mr. Reed's career, however, failed to prove "the prologue to

the swelling act."

The Hon. William McKinley, of Ohio, was a member of this Congress.

He was one of the most pleasing and delightful of associates, and my

acquaintance with him was of the most agreeable character. One of

his earliest official acts as President was my appointment as a

member of the Bimetallic Commission to Europe.

Mr. McKinley was in very truth one of Fortune's favorites: five

times elected a member of the House of Representatives, three times

Governor of his State, and twice elevated to the Presidency. He

was the third of our Presidents to fall by the hand of an assassin.

His tragic death is yet fresh in our memories.

The last time I met President McKinley was at the Peace Jubilee

Banquet at the Auditorium in Chicago, on the evening of October

19, 1898. On this occasion, following the toast to the President of

the United States, I spoke as follows:

"The incumbent of this great office holds with unchallenged title the

most exalted station known to men. Monarchs rule by hereditary

right, or hold high place only by force of arms. The elevation of

a citizen to the Presidency of the United States is the deliberate

act, under the forms of law, of a sovereign people. As an aspirant,

he may have been the choice only of a political party; as the

incumbent of the great office, he is the representative of all the

people--the President of all the people. It augurs well for the

future of the Republic when the American people magnify this office;

when the honor, as now, the President who has so ably upheld its

dignity, so worthily met its solemn responsibilities, so patriotically

discharged its exacting and imperative duties.

"The office of President of a self-governing people is unique. It

had no place in ancient or mediaeval schemes of government, whether

despotic, federative, or in name republican. It has in reality

none amongst the nations of modern Europe. The Presidency of

the United States, in the highest degree, represents the majesty

of the law. It stands for the unified authority and power of

seventy-five millions of free men. It typifies what is most sacred

to our race: stability in government and protection to liberty

and life. The President is the great officer to whom the founders of

the government entrusted the delicate and responsible function of

treating with foreign States; in whom was vested in time of peace and

of war, chief command of the army and of the navy.

"An eminent writer has well said: 'The ancient monarchs of France

reigned and governed; the Queen of England reigns but does not

govern; the President of France neither reigns nor governs; the

President of the United States does not reign, but governs!'

"Experience has demonstrated the more than human wisdom of the

framers of the great federal compact which for more than a century,

in peace and amid the stress of war, has held States and people in

indissoluble bond of union. In no part of their matchless handiwork

has it been more clearly manifested than in the creation of a

responsible executive. To secure in the largest measure the great

ends of government, responsibility must attach to the executive

office; and of necessity, with responsibility, _power._ The sooner

France learns from the American Republic this important lesson,

the sooner will government attain with her the stability to which it

is now a stranger. Her statesmen might well recall the words of

Lord Bacon: 'What men will not alter for the better, Time, the

great innovator, will alter for the worse.'

"The splendid commonwealth in which we are assembled contains a

population a million greater than did the entire country at the

first inauguration of President Washington. The one hundred and

nine years which have passed since that masterful hour in history have

witnessed the addition of thirty-two States to our federal Union, and

of seventy millions to our population. And yet, with but few

amendments, our great organic law as fully meets the requirements

of a self-governing people to-day as when it came from the hands

of its framers. The builders of the Constitution wisely ordained the

Presidential office a co-ordinate department of the Government.

Moving in its own clearly defined orbit, without usurpation or

lessening of prerogative, the great executive office, at the close

as at the beginning of the century, is the recognized constitutional

symbol of authority and of power. The delegated functions and

prerogatives that pertained in our infancy and weakness have proved

ample in the days of our strength and greatness as a nation.

"It is well that to the people was entrusted the sovereign power

of choosing their chief magistrate. It is our glory, in the

retrospect of more than a century, that none other than patriots

--statesmen well equipped for the discharge of its timeless duties

--have ever been chosen to the Presidency. May we not believe that

the past is the earnest of the future, and that during the rolling

years and centuries the incumbents of the great office--the chosen

successors of Washington and of Lincoln--in the near and in the

remote future, will prove the guardians and defenders of the

Constitution, the guardians and defenders of the rights of all the

people?

"Luminous will be the pages of history that tell to the ages the

story of our recent conflict, of its causes and of its results.

In brilliancy of achievement, the one hundred days war with Spain is

the marvel of the closing century. It was not a war of our seeking.

It was the earnest prayer of all, from the President to the humblest

in private life, that the horrors of war might be averted. Had

our ears remained deaf to the cry of the stricken and starving

at our doors, we would not have been guiltless in the high court

of conscience, and before the dread judgment seat of history. The

plea 'Am I my brother's keeper?'--whether interposed by individual

or by nation--cannot be heard before the august tribunal of the

Almighty.

"Justified then, as we solemnly believe, in the sight of God for

our interposition, we rejoice over the termination of a struggle

in which our arms knew no defeat. The dead hand of Spain has been

removed forever from the throats of her helpless victims. Emphasizing

our solemn declaration as a nation, that this was a war for humanity,

not for self-aggrandizement, we demand no money indemnity from the

defeated and impoverished foe.

"The sacrifice of treasure and of blood has not been in vain.

However it may have been in the past, the United States emerges

from the conflict with Spain a united people. Sectional lines are

forever obliterated. Henceforth, for all time, we present to

foreign foe and unbroken front. In the words of Webster: 'Our

politics go no farther than the water's edge.'

"No less important is the fact, that the United States of

America to-day, as never before, commands the respect and admiration

of the world. No foreign coalition, however formidable, can excite

our serious apprehension or alarm. For all this, all honor to our

brave soldiers and sailors; all honor to the helpful hands and

sympathetic hearts of America's patriotic women.

"As in the early morning and in the noon of the nineteenth century,

America gave to the world its best lessons in liberty and in

law, so in its closing hours, it has given to all the nations a

never-to-be-forgotten lesson in the dread art of war. In quick

response to the splendid achievements of American valor comes from

across the sea the startling proposal of despotic Russia for the

disarmament of continental Europe--and in the end universal peace.

"Thankful to God for all he has vouchsafed to us in the past,

and with the prayer that henceforth peace may be the priceless boon

of all nations, we await the dawn of the new century, and turn our

faces hopefully to the future."

IV

THE VICE-PRESIDENCY

ELECTION, POWERS, AND DUTIES OF THE VICE-PRESIDENT--NAMES AND DATES

OF ALL THE VICE-PRESIDENTS--FOUR WHO BECAME PRESIDENTS BY ELECTION

--FIVE WHO SUCCEEDED UPON THE DEATH OF THE PRESIDENT--ATTEMPTS

TO SECURE THE IMPEACHMENTS OF PRESIDENTS--THE TWELFTH AMENDMENT TO

THE CONSTITUTION--REMARKS ON SOME OF THE VICE-PRESIDENTS--THE

WRITER'S FAREWELL ADDRESS TO THE SENATE.

By the provisions of the Federal Constitution, a Vice-President of

the United States is elected at the same time, for the same term, and

in like manner as the President--by electors chosen in each of the

States. A majority of the votes cast in the several electoral

colleges is necessary to an election. The Vice-President is the

President of the Senate, and in the event of an equal division

in that body, he gives the deciding vote. Under no other contingency

has he a vote. The powers and duties of the office of President

devolve upon the Vice-President in case of the death, resignation,

or removal from office of the President. The Vice-President is

included in the list of public officers liable to removal from

office on impeachment, on conviction for treason, bribery, or other

high crimes and misdemeanors. By the twelfth amendment to the

Constitution no person constitutionally ineligible to the office

of President can be elected to that of Vice-President. In the

event of a vacancy occurring in the office of Vice-President,

the Senate is presided over by a member of that body. In such

contingency the death of the President would, under existing

law, devolve the office of President upon the Secretary of State.

Twenty-seven persons have held the office of Vice-President; the

dates of their respective elections are as follows: John Adams of

Massachusetts, in 1788, re-elected in 1792; Thomas Jefferson of

Virginia, in 1796; Aaron Burr of New York, in 1800; George Clinton

of New York, in 1804, re-elected in 1808; Elbridge Gerry of

Massachusetts, in 1812; Daniel D. Tompkins of New York, in 1816,

re-elected in 1820; John C. Calhoun of South Carolina, in 1824,

re-elected in 1828; Martin Van Buren of New York, in 1832; Richard

M. Johnson of Kentucky, in 1836; John Tyler of Virginia, in

1840; George M. Dallas of Pennsylvania, in 1844; Millard Fillmore of

New York, in 1848; William R. King of Alabama, in 1852; John C.

Breckenridge of Kentucky, in 1856; Hannibal Hamlin of Maine, in

1860; Andrew Johnson of Tennessee, in 1864; Schuyler Colfax of

Indiana, in 1868; Henry Wilson of Massachusetts, in 1872; William A.

Wheeler of New York, in 1876; Chester A. Arthur of New York, in

1880; Thomas A. Hendricks of Indiana, in 1884; Levi P. Morton of

New York, in 1888; Adlai E. Stevenson of Illinois, in 1892; Garrett

A. Hobart of New Jersey, in 1896; Theodore Roosevelt of New York, in

1900; Charles W. Fairbanks of Indiana, in 1904; James S. Sherman

of New York, in 1908.

Four Vice-Presidents were subsequently elected Presidents, namely:

John Adams in 1796; Thomas Jefferson in 1800 and 1804; Martin

Van Buren in 1836; and Theodore Roosevelt in 1904. The dates given

have reference to the election by vote of the electors in the

several States by whom the President and Vice-President were

subsequently chosen. Six Vice-Presidents died in office: namely,

Clinton, Gerry, King, Wilson, Hendricks, and Hobart. In the

Presidential contest of 1836, Martin Van Buren received a majority

of the electoral votes for President, but no candidate received a

majority for Vice-President. By Constitutional requirement the

duty of electing a Vice-President then devolved upon the Senate,

the candidates from whom such choice was to be made being restricted

to the two who had received the highest number of electoral votes.

One of these, Richard W. Johnson of Kentucky, was duly elected

by the Senate. The only Vice-President who resigned the office

was John C. Calhoun. This occurred in 1832, and Mr. Calhoun

soon thereafter took his seat in the Senate, to which body he

had been elected by the Legislature of South Carolina.

Five Vice-Presidents have, upon the death of the President, succeeded

to the Presidency. The first President to die during his incumbency

of the great office, was William Henry Harrison. His death occurred

April 4, 1841, just one month after his inauguration. The

Vice-President John Tyler, then at his country home in Virginia, was

officially notified of the event, and upon reaching the seat of

Government at once took the oath of office as President. There

was much discussion for a time in and out of Congress as to his

proper title, whether "Vice-President of the United States acting as

President," or "President." The language of the Constitution

however, is clear, and it is no longer controverted that upon

the death of the President the Vice-President becomes, in name

as in fact, President. Upon the death of President Zachary Taylor,

July 9, 1850, Vice-President Millard Fillmore succeeded to the

Presidency, and was at a later date an unsuccessful candidate

for election to that office. The third Vice-President who reached

the Presidency by succession was Andrew Johnson; this occurred

April 15, 1865, the day following the assassination of President

Lincoln. President Garfield was shot July 2, 1881, and died in

September of that year, when he was succeeded by Vice-President

Chester A. Arthur. Vice-President Roosevelt was the successor

of President McKinley, who died by the hand of an assassin in

September, 1901.

Two attempts have been made to secure the impeachment of Presidents,

the incumbent in each instance having been elected Vice-President and

succeeded to the higher office upon the death of the President.

A resolution looking to the impeachment of President Tyler was

introduced into the House of Representatives in January, 1843, but

was defeated, and no further steps were taken. Articles of

impeachment, for "high crimes and misdemeanors," were presented by

the House of Representatives against President Johnson in 1868.

By constitutional provision the trial was by the Senate, the Chief

Justice of the United States presiding. Less than two-thirds of

the Senators voting for conviction, he was acquitted.

Until the adoption of the twelfth amendment, no Constitutional

provision existed for separate votes in the electoral colleges for

President and Vice-President; the candidate receiving the highest number

of votes (if a majority of all) became President, and the one

receiving the second highest, Vice-President. In 1801, Jefferson and

Burr each received seventy-three electoral votes, and by

constitutional requirement the election at once devolved upon

the House of Representatives, voting by States. On the thirty-sixth

ballot a majority of the States voting for Jefferson, he became

President, and Burr, Vice-President. The Constitutional amendment

above indicated, by which separate ballots were required in the

electoral colleges for each office, was the result of the

intense excitement throughout the country engendered by this contest.

The earnest opposition of Alexander Hamilton to Aaron Burr in

the above-mentioned contest, was the prime cause of the duel by

which Hamilton lost his life at the hands of Burr in 1804.

George Clinton, the fourth Vice-President, had as a member of

the Continental Congress voted for the Declaration of Independence,

and held the rank of Brigadier-General during the War of the

Revolution. The fifth Vice-President, Elbridge Gerry, had been

a prominent member of the Constitutional Convention of 1787.

William R. King, elected in 1852, by reason of ill health never

entered upon the discharge of the duties of his office. By special

act of Congress, the oath of office was administered to him in Cuba

and his death occurred soon thereafter. Of the twenty-seven

Vice-Presidents thus far elected, ten have been from the State

of New York. Adams and Jefferson, the first and second

Vice-Presidents, rendered valuable service to the young Republic at

foreign courts; each by election was elevated to the Presidency; and

their deaths occurred upon the same historic Fourth of July,

just fifty years from the day they had signed the Declaration of

Independence.

A marble bust of each of the Vice-Presidents has been placed in

the gallery of the Senate Chamber. The office of Vice-President

is one of great dignity. He is the presiding officer of the

most august legislative assembly known to men. In the event of an

equal division in the Senate, he gives the deciding vote. This

vote, many times in our history, has been one of deep significance.

It will readily be seen that the contingency may often occur when the

Vice-President becomes an important factor in matters of

legislation.

On the occasion of the writer's retirement from office, March 4,

1897, he delivered the following farewell address before the Senate:

"Senators: The hour has arrived which marks the close of the

fifty-fourth Congress, and terminates my official relation to this

body.

"Before laying down the gavel for the last time, I may be pardoned

for detaining you for a moment, in the attempt to give expression to

my gratitude for the uniform courtesy extended me, for the many

kindnesses shown me, during the time it has been my good fortune

to preside over your deliberations. My appreciation of the Resolution

of the Senate personal to myself, can find no adequate expression in

words. Intentionally, I have at no time given offence; and I carry

from this presence no shadow of feeling of unkindness toward any

Senator, no memory of any grievance.

"Chief among the favors political fortune has bestowed upon me,

I count that of having been the associate--and known something

of the friendship--of the men with whom I have so long held official

relation in this chamber. To have been the presiding officer of

this august body is an honor of which even the most illustrious

citizen might be proud. I am persuaded that no occupant of this

Chair, during the one hundred and eight years of our Constitutional

history, ever entered upon the discharge of the duties pertaining to

this office more deeply impressed with a sense of the responsibilities

imposed, or with a higher appreciation of the character and dignity

of the great Legislative Assembly.

"During the term just closing, questions of deep import to political

parties and to the country have here found earnest and at times

passionate discussion. This Chamber has indeed been the arena

of great debate. The record of four years of parliamentary struggles,

of masterful debates, of important legislation, is closed, and

passes now to the domain of history.

"I think I can truly say, in the words of a distinguished predecessor,

'In the discharge of my official duties, I have known no cause, no

party, no friend.' It has been my earnest endeavor justly to

interpret, and faithfully to execute, the rules of the Senate. At

times the temptation may be strong to compass partisan ends by a

disregard or a perversion of the rules. Yet, I think it safe to

say, the result, however salutary, will be dearly purchased by a

departure from the method prescribed by the Senate for its own

guidance. A single instance, as indicated, might prove the forerunner

of untold evils.

''T will be recorded for a precedent,

And many an error by the same example

Will rush into the State.'

"It must not be forgotten that the rules governing this body are

founded deep in human experience; that they are the result of

centuries of tireless effort in legislative hall, to conserve,

to render stable and secure, the rights and liberties which have

been achieved by conflict. By its rules, the Senate wisely fixes the

limits to its own power. Of those who clamor against the Senate

and its mode of procedure it may be truly said, 'They know not what

they do.' In this Chamber alone are preserved, without restraint,

two essentials of wise legislation and of good government--the

right of amendment and of debate. Great evils often result from

hasty legislation, rarely from the delay which follows full

discussion and deliberation. In my humble judgment, the historic

Senate, preserving the unrestricted right of amendment and of

debate, maintaining intact the time-honored parliamentary methods and

amenities which unfailingly secure action after deliberation,

possesses in our scheme of government a value which can not be

measured by words. The Senate is a perpetual body. In the

terse words of an eminent Senator now present: 'The men who framed

the Constitution had studied thoroughly all former attempts at

Republican government. History was strewn with the wrecks of

unsuccessful democracies. Sometimes the usurpation of the executive

power, sometimes the fickleness and unbridled license of the people,

had brought popular governments to destruction. To guard against these

dangers, they placed their chief hope in the Senate. The Senate

which was organized in 1789, at the inauguration of the Government,

abides and will continue to abide, one and the same body, until

the Republic itself shall be overthrown, or time shall be no more.'

"Twenty-four Senators who have occupied seats in this Chamber during

my term of office are no longer members of this body. Five of that

number--Stanford, Colquitt, Vance, Stockbridge, and Wilson--

'shattered with the contentions of the Great Hall,' full of years and

of honors have passed from earthly scenes. The fall of the

gavel will conclude the long and honorable terms of service of

other Senators, who will be borne in kind remembrance by their

associates who remain.

"I would do violence to my feelings if I failed to express my thanks

to the officers of this body for the fidelity with which they have

discharged their important duties, and for the kindly assistance

and unfailing courtesy of which I have been the recipient.

"For the able and distinguished gentleman who succeeds me as

your presiding officer, I earnestly invoke the same co-operation

and courtesy which you have so generously accorded me.

"Senators, my parting words have been spoken, and I now discharge my

last official duty, that of declaring the Senate adjourned without

day."

V

THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES

DIFFICULTY OF FORMULATING A FEDERAL CONSTITUTION--THE CONVENTION

OF 1787 SEES THE NECESSITY FOR A GENERAL GOVERNMENT WITH PLENARY

POWERS--JEALOUSY OF THE SMALLER TOWARD THE LARGER STATES--

BRITISH PARLIAMENT TAKEN, WITH QUALIFICATIONS, AS THE MODEL FOR THE

HOUSES OF CONGRESS--EQUAL STATE REPRESENTATION IN THE SENATE--

NON-EXISTENCE OF ANY METHOD FOR TERMINATING DEBATES IN THE SENATE--

POTENCY OF THE PRESIDENT'S VETO--ABUSE OF THE _CLOTURE_ IN THE

HOUSE--PROCEDURE IN THE EVENT OF THE FAILURE OF THE PEOPLE TO ELECT

A PRESIDENT OR A VICE-PRESIDENT--THE HAYES-TILDEN CONTEST--DANGER OF

USURPATION OF POWER BY THE EXECUTIVE--THE SENATE AS A HIGH COURT

OF IMPEACHMENT--TRIAL OF CHASE OF MARYLAND--TRIAL OF BELKNAP,

SECRETARY OF WAR--TRIAL OF PRESIDENT JOHNSON.

It is a well-known fact in our political history that the convention

which formulated our Federal Constitution greatly exceeded the

powers delegated to its members by their respective States. It

was the supreme moment, and upon the action of the historic assemblage

depended events of far-reaching consequence. The Constitution

of the United States is the enduring monument to the courage, the

forecast, the wisdom of the members of the Convention of 1787. It

was theirs to cut the Gordian knot, to break with the past, and,

regardless of the jealousies and antagonisms of individual States,

to establish the more perfect union, which has been declared by an

eminent British statesman "the greatest work ever struck off at

a given time from the brain and purpose of man."