"Two stars keep not
Their motion in one sphere,"
might not the removal of one have healed the widening breach in
the Whig party? What might have been its effect upon the grand
Internal Improvement Scheme--the darling project of Henry Clay?
what upon the determination of the Oregon Boundary Question--whether
by diplomacy or war? and how might the destiny of the "Lone Star,"
the Republic of Texas, have been changed? What might have been
the effect upon the political fortunes of Tyler's great antagonist,
around whom the aggressive forces of the party he had founded were
even then gathering for a life-and-death struggle against a
comparatively obscure rival in the Presidential campaign of 1844?
Trifles light as air are sometimes the pivots upon which hinge
momentous events. The ill-timed publication of a personal
letter defeated Cass in 1848; and within our day the utterance of a
single word, unheard by the candidate to whom it was addressed,
lost the Presidency to Blaine.
The antagonism of Tyler and his adherents eliminated, it is within
the bounds of probability that Henry Clay would have triumphed
in his last struggle for the Presidency. If so, what change might
not have been wrought in the trend of history? Under the splendid
leadership of the "great pacificator," what might have been the
termination of vital questions even then casting their dark shadows
upon our national pathway?
With Clay at the helm, himself the incarnation of the spirit of
compromise, possibly--who can tell?--the evil days so soon to follow
might have been postponed for many generations.
XVI
ROBERT G. INGERSOLL
MR. INGERSOLL'S ELOQUENCE WHILE A YOUNG MAN--HIS CANDIDACY FOR
CONGRESS--HIS AGNOSTICISM A HINDRANCE TO HIS POLITICAL ADVANCEMENT
--HIS ORATION AT THE FUNERAL OF HIS BROTHER.
It was in April, 1859, that for the first time I met Robert G.
Ingersoll. He came over from his home in Peoria to attend the
Woodford Circuit Court. He was then under thirty years of age, of
splendid physique, magnetic in the fullest significance of the
word, and one of the most attractive and agreeable of men. He was
almost boyish in appearance, and hardly known beyond the limits of
the county in which he lived. He had but recently moved to Peoria
from the southern part of the State.
To those who remember him it is hardly necessary to say that even at
that early day he gave unmistakable evidence of his marvellous
gifts. His power over a jury was wonderful indeed; and woe betide
the counsel of but mediocre talents who had Ingersoll for an
antagonist in a closely contested case.
The old Court-house at Metamora is yet standing, a monument of the
past; the county seat removed, it has long since fallen from its
high estate. In my boyhood, I have more than once heard Mr. Lincoln
at its bar, and later was a practitioner there myself--and State's
Attorney for the Circuit,--when Mr. Ingersoll was attendant upon
its courts. Rarely at any time or place have words been spoken
more eloquent than fell from the lips of Lincoln and Ingersoll
in that now deserted Court-house, in the years long gone by.
The first appearance of Mr. Ingersoll in the political arena was
in the Presidential struggle of 1860. In his later years he was
a Republican, but in the contest just mentioned he was the earnest
advocate of the election of Mr. Douglas to the Presidency and
was himself the Democratic candidate for Congress in the Peoria
District. His competitor was Judge Kellogg, a gentleman of well-known
ability and many years' experience in Congress. Immediately upon his
nomination, Ingersoll challenged Kellogg to a series of joint
debates. The challenge was accepted, and the debates which followed
were a rare treat to the throngs who heard them. The discussion
turned upon the vital issues yet pending at the outbreak of the
Civil War, issues which were to find their final determination
on the field of battle. Possibly, with the exception of the historic
debates two years earlier, between Lincoln and Douglas, the country
has known no abler discussion of great questions. It was then for
the first time that Ingersoll displayed the marvellous forensic
powers that at a later day--and upon a different arena--gave him
world-wide renown.
It was at a period subsequent to that just mentioned that he became
an agnostic. I recall no expression of his during the early years
of our acquaintance that indicated a departure from the faith in
which he had been reared. That his extreme views upon religious
subjects, and his manner, exceedingly offensive at times, of
expressing them, formed an insuperable barrier to his political
advancement, cannot be doubted. But for his unbelief, what political
honors might have awaited him cannot certainly be known. But
recalling the questions then under discussion, the intensity of
party feeling, and the enthusiasm that his marvellous eloquence
never failed to arouse in the thousands who hung upon his words, it
is probable that the most exalted station might have been attained.
To those familiar with the political events of that day, it is
known that the antagonism aroused by his assaults upon the citadel
of the faith sacred to the many, compassed his defeat in his
candidature in 1868 for the Governorship of Illinois. His explanation
was, that his defeat was caused by a slight difference of
opinion between himself and some of the brethren upon the highly
exciting question of total depravity.
Some years later, the nominee of his party for the Presidency
was exceedingly obnoxious to him. Meeting the Colonel the morning
after the adjournment of the convention I inquired, "Are you happy?"
To this he replied, that he was somewhat in the condition of a very
profane youth who had just got religion at a backwoods camp-meeting.
Soon after his conversion, the preacher, taking him affectionately by
the hand, inquired: "My young friend, are you very happy?" "Well,
parson," replied the only half-converted youth, "I am not damn happy,
just _happy,_ that's all."
His only brother was for many years a Representative in Congress
from Illinois. Clark Ingersoll was himself able and eloquent, but
overshadowed by the superior gifts of his younger brother, the
subject of this sketch. The death of the former was to Colonel
Ingersoll a sorrow which remained with him to the last. The funeral
occurred in Washington in the summer of 1879, and of the pall-bearers
selected by Colonel Ingersoll for the last sad service to his
brother, were men well known in public life, one of whom but two
years later, while President of the United States, fell by the hand
of an assassin.
From a Washington paper of the day succeeding the funeral of Clark
Ingersoll, the following is taken: "When Colonel Ingersoll ceased
speaking the pall-bearers, Senator Allison, Senator David Davis,
Senator Blaine, Senator Voorhees, Representatives Garfield of Ohio,
Morrison, Boyd, and Stevenson of Illinois, bore the casket to
the hearse and the lengthy _cortege_ proceeded to the Oak Hill
Cemetery where the remains were interred."
The occasion was one that will not easily pass from my memory.
There was no service whatever save the funeral oration which has
found its way into all languages. I stood by the side of
Colonel Ingersoll near the casket during its delivery, and vividly
recall his deep emotion, and the faltering tones in which the
wondrous sentences were uttered. It is probable that this oration
has no counterpart in literature. It seemed in very truth the
knell of hope, the expression of a grief that could know no surcease,
the agony of a parting that could know no morrow.
In such an hour how cheerless and comfortless these words:
"Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two
eternities. We strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We cry
aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry.
"Every life, no matter if its every hour is rich with love, and
every moment jewelled with a joy, will at its close become a tragedy
as sad and deep and dark as can be woven of the warp and woof of
mystery and death."
And yet in those other words, "But in the night of death, hope sees
a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing," and,
"while on his forehead fell the golden dawning of a grander
day," there is a yearning for "the touch of a vanished hand," and a
hope that no philosophy could dispel of a reunion sometime and
somewhere with the loved and lost.
Two decades later, again "the veiled shadow stole upon the scene,"
and the sublime mystery of life and death was revealed. The awful
question, "If a man die shall he live again?" was answered, and to
the great agnostic _all was known._
XVII
A CAMP-MEETING ORATOR
PETER CARTWRIGHT, METHODIST PREACHER--HIS FEARLESSNESS AND ENERGY--
HIS OLD-FASHIONED ORTHODOXY--HOW HE CONVERTED A PROFANE SWEARER
--HIS ATTENDANCE AT A BALL--OLD-TIME CAMP-MEETINGS--CARTWRIGHT'S
AVERSION TO OTHER SECTS--CONVERSION OF A DESPERADO INTO A PENITENT
--CARTWRIGHT MR. LINCOLN'S COMPETITOR FOR REPRESENTATIVE--HIS SPEECH
AT A DEMOCRATIC STATE CONVENTION.
The Rev. Peter Cartwright was a noted Methodist preacher of pioneer
days in Central Illinois. Once seen, he was a man never to be
forgotten. He was, in the most expressive sense of the words, _sui
generis;_ a veritable product of the times in which he lived,
and the conditions under which he moved and had his being. All in
all, his like will not appear again. He was converted when a mere
youth at a camp-meeting in southern Kentucky; soon after, he was
licensed to preach, and became a circuit rider in that State,
and later was of the Methodist vanguard to Illinois. It was said of
him that he was of the church _military_ as well as "the church
militant." He was of massive build, an utter stranger to fear,
and of unquestioned honesty and sincerity. He was gifted with
an eloquence adapted to the times in which he lived, and the
congregations to which he preached. There would be no place for
him now, for the untutored assemblages who listened with bated
breath to his fiery appeals are of the past.
"For, welladay! Their day is fled,
Old times are changed, old manners gone."
The narrative of his tough conflicts with the emissaries of Satan is
even now of the rarest reading for a summer's day or a winter's
night. How he fought the Indians, fought the robbers, swam rivers,
and threaded the prairies, in order that he might carry the Gospel
to the remotest frontiersmen, was of thrilling interest to many of
the new generation as his own sands were running low. He literally
took no thought of the morrow, but without staff and little even
in the way of scrip unselfishly gave the best years of a life
extending two decades beyond the time allotted, to the service
of his Master.
Until the Judgment leaves are unfolded the good which this man and
many of his co-laborers did in the new country will never be known.
A journey of days on horseback to fill an appointment, to perform a
marriage ceremony, preach a funeral sermon, or speak words of hope
and comfort to the sick or the bereaved, was part of the sum of
a life of service that knew little of rest.
There would probably be few pulpits open to Peter Cartwright in
these more cultivated times. Old things have passed away; the
pioneer in his rough garb, with axe upon his shoulder, and rifle
in hand, is now but a tradition, while the border line of civilization
has receded westward to the ocean.
None the less, the typical minister of to-day would have had
very scant welcome in the rude pulpits of the days of which we
write. His elegant attire, conventional manners, written sermons,
and new theology, would have been sadly out of place in the
camp-meeting times, for be it remembered that Cartwright called
things by their right names. He gave forth no uncertain sound.
His theology was that of the Fathers. We hear little in these
modern days of "The fire that quencheth not" and of "total depravity"
and of "the bottomless pit." Such expressions are unfitted for ears
polite. Higher criticism, new thought, and all kindred ideas
and suggestions,
"Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer,"
were believed by Cartwright and his contemporaries to be mere
contrivances of Satan for the ensnaring of immortal souls. His
abhorrence of all these "wiles of the devil," and his scorn for
their advocates, knew no bounds.
His preaching was of the John Wesley, George Whitefield, and Jonathan
Edwards type. Mingled with his denunciations of sin, his
earnest exhortations to repentance, his graphic description of the
New Jerusalem, with its "streets of gold, walls of jasper, and
gates of pearl," and of the unending bliss of the redeemed, were
expressions now relegated to the limbo of the past. Little
time, however, was wasted by the Rev. Peter in picking out soft
words for fear of giving offence. To his impassioned soul "the
final doom of the impenitent," the "torment of the damned," and
"hell fire" itself, were veritable realities. And so indeed, when
rolling from his tongue, did they appear, not alone to the rapt
believer, but oftentimes to the ungodly and the sinner as well.
More than one marvellous conversion under his ministration is
recorded by Brother Cartwright in the autobiography written in the
closing years of his life. At one time in crossing a stream, he
was deeply offended by the profanity of the boatman. The kindly
admonition and the gentle rebuke of the minister apparently added zest
and volume to the oaths of the boatman. Suddenly seizing the
offender, the irate preacher ducked him into the river, and turned
a deaf ear to his piteous appeals for succor until the half-drowned
wretch had offered a prayer for mercy and made profuse promises of
repentance. Hopeful conversion, and an ever-after life of Christian
humility, were the gratifying sequels to the baptism so unexpectedly
administered.
Another experience no less remarkable occurred when, during the
early years of his ministry, he was crossing the mountains on
his way to the General Conference. At a tavern by the wayside,
where he had obtained lodging for the night, he found preparations
in progress for a ball to come off that very evening. The protestation
of the minister against such wickedness only aroused the ire of
the landlord and his family. The dance promptly began at the
appointed time.
"Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage-bell."
There being but a single room to the house, and a storm raging
without, the outraged and indignant minister was the unwilling
witness to the ebb and flow of this tide of ungodliness. At length,
as partners were being chosen for the Virginia Reel, a beautiful
girl approached the solitary guest and requested his hand for
the set just forming. The minister arose and intimated a ready
compliance with her request, at the same time assuring her that he
never entered upon any important undertaking without first invoking
God's blessing upon it; and seizing her by the hand he fell upon
his knees and with the voice of one born to be obeyed commanded
silence and began his prayer. The dance was immediately suspended,
and a solemnity and horror, as if the presage of approaching doom,
fell upon the startled assemblage. Above the agonizing sobs of
the lately impenitent revellers was heard, as was that of the
ancient prophet above the din of the worshippers of Baal, the voice
of the man of God in earnest appeals to the throne of grace for
mercy to these "hell-deserving sinners."
An hour passed; lamentation and groans of sin-sick soul mingled
meanwhile with the fervent exhortations and appeals of the man
of prayer. Suddenly and in rapid succession shout after shout
of victory from redeemed souls ascended, and as if by magic the
late abode of scoffers became indeed a very Bethel. The incidents
mentioned, and others scarcely less remarkable, will be found in Mr.
Cartwright's autobiography. The present generation knows but little
of the old-time camp-meeting; as it existed in the days and under the
administration of Peter Cartwright and his co-laborers, it is verily
a thing of the past.
"New occasions teach new duties;
Time makes ancient good uncouth."
Seventy years and more ago, the country new, the population sparse,
the settlements few and far between, the camp-meeting was of yearly
and, as it was believed, of necessary occurrence. It was, especially
with the early Methodists, a recognized instrumentality for preaching
the Gospel for the conversion of souls.
A convenient spot--usually near a spring or brook--being selected,
a rude pulpit was erected, rough seats provided, a log cabin or
two for the aged and infirm hastily constructed, and there in
the early autumn large congregations assembled for worship. For
many miles around, and often from neighboring counties, the people
came, on horseback, in wagons, and on foot. Each family furnished
its own tent, the needed bed-clothing, cooking utensils, and abundant
provisions for their temporary sojourn in the wilderness. It was no
holiday occasion, no time for merry making. It was often at
much sacrifice and discomfort that such meetings were held, and
preachers and people alike were in terrible earnest. Rigid rules for
their government were formulated and enforced, and a proper decorum
required and observed. Woe betide the wretch who attempted to
create disturbance, or depart from the strictest propriety of
deportment. Not infrequently in the early camp-meetings of Kentucky
and Tennessee there were stalwart men keeping guard over these
religious gatherings, who had in their younger days hunted the
savage foe from his fastness, faced Tecumseh at Tippecanoe and the
Thames, possibly been comrades of "Old Hickory" through the Everglades
and at New Orleans.
A sufficient time being set apart for meals and the needed hours
of rest, the residue was in the main devoted to public or
private worship. Family prayer-meetings were held in each tent at
the early dawn; public preaching by the most gifted speakers during
two hours or more of the forenoon. After a hasty midday meal
the public services were resumed, to be followed at the appointed time
by meetings for special prayer, class meetings, and love feasts,
all conducted with the greatest possible solemnity; and the exercises,
after supper had been served and the candles lighted, concluded
for the day with an impassioned sermon from the main stand. During
the last-mentioned service especially, the scene presented was
truly of a weird and picturesque character. The flickering lights
of the camp, the dark forest around, the melodious concert of a
thousand voices mingling in sacred song, the awe-inspiring,
never-to-be-forgotten hymn,
"Come, humble sinner, in whose breast
A thousand thoughts revolve,"
the fervid exclamations as convicted sinners gathered around the
mourners' bench and the shouts of joy heard far beyond the limits of
the camp as peace found lodging in sin-distracted souls, all
impressed the memory and heart too deeply for even the flight of
years wholly to dispel.
It need hardly be added that these scenes, of which but feeble
description has been given, marked the hour of triumph of the truly
gifted of the revival preachers of camp-meeting times. The echoes
will never awake to the sound of such eloquence again. The orator
and the occasion here met and embraced. In very truth, the joys
of the redeemed, and the horrors of lost souls, were depicted in
colors that only lips "touched with a live coal from the altar"
could adequately describe. In the presence of such lurid imagery,
even the inspired revelation of the apocalyptic vision seems but
sober narrative of commonplace events.
With camp-meetings and their thrilling incidents of two generations
ago in our Western country, the name of Peter Cartwright is
inseparably associated. He was the born leader; _par excellence,_
the unrivalled orator. Since the passing of Whitefield and Asbury
a greater than he had not appeared. To those who have never attended
an old-time camp-meeting the following quotation from Mr.
Cartwright's autobiography may be of interest:
"The meeting was protracted for weeks and was kept up day and night.
Thousands heard of the mighty work, and came on foot, on horseback,
and in wagons. It was supposed that there were in attendance at
different times from twelve to twenty-five thousand. Hundreds fell
prostrate under the mighty power of God, as men slain in battle;
and it was supposed that between one and two thousand souls were
happily and powerfully converted to God during the meetings. It
was not unusual for as many as seven preachers to be addressing
the listening thousands at a time, from different stands. At times,
more than a thousand persons broke out into loud shouting, all at
once, and the shouts could be heard for miles around."
Strange as the following may sound to the present generation, it
is one of the many experiences recorded by Cartwright:
"The camp-meeting was lighted up, the trumpet blown, I rose in the
stand and required every soul to leave the tents and come into the
congregation. There was a general rush to the stand. I requested
the brethren, if ever they prayed in their lives, to pray now. My
voice was strong and clear, and my preaching was more of an
exhortation than anything else. My text was: 'The gates of
hell shall not prevail.' In about thirty minutes the power of God
fell upon the congregation in such a manner as is seldom seen; the
people fell in every direction, right and left, front and rear.
It was supposed that not less than three hundred fell like dead
men in mighty battle; and there was no need of calling mourners,
for they were strewed all over the camp ground. Loud wailings went
up to Heaven from sinners for mercy, and a general shout from
Christians so that the noise was hear afar off."
That it was by no means an unusual occurrence for those who came
to scoff to remain to pray will appear from the same book:
"Just as I was closing up my sermon and pressing it with all the
force I could command, the power of God suddenly was displayed,
and sinners fell by scores all through the assembly. It was supposed
that several hundred fell in five minutes; sinners turned pale;
some ran into the woods; some tried to get away, and fell in the
attempt; some shouted aloud for joy."
The horror of Brother Cartwrights for "immersionists" and Calvinists
of every degree, appears throughout his entire book. That his
righteous soul was often sorely vexed because of them is beyond
question. That his cup had not been drained to the dregs will
appear from a new element he encountered when sent across the Ohio
to the Scioto conference.
"It was a poor and hard circuit at that time, and the country round
was settled in an early day by a colony of Yankees. At the time
of my appointment I had never seen a Yankee, and I had heard dismal
stories about them. It was said they lived almost entirely on
pumpkins, molasses, fat meat, and Bohea tea; moreover that they
could not bear loud and zealous sermons, and that they had brought
on their learned preachers with them, and were always criticising us
poor backwoods preachers."
The "isms" our circuit-rider now encountered would have appalled
a less resolute man. He seems, however, to have gotten along fairly
well except with one "female," who, from all accounts, was given
over in about equal parts to "universalism" and "predestinarianism."
This troublesome female, that he candidly admitted he had _a
hard race to keep up with,_ he has left impaled for all time as
a "thin-faced, Roman-nosed, loquacious, glib-tongued Yankee."
Something of the antagonism of the different persuasions in the
good old pioneer days, may be gathered from the tender farewell
taken by Brother Cartwright of a former associate, one Brother D.,
"who left the Methodists, joined the Free-will Baptists, left them
and joined the New Lights, and then moved to Texas, where I expect
the devil has him in safe keeping long before this time!"
It would be idle to suppose that Peter Cartwright was a mere
visionary or dreamer. Nothing could be farther from the truth.
He was abundantly possessed with what, in Western parlance, is
known as "horse sense." He was a student of men, and kept in close
touch with the affairs of this world. His shrewdness, no less than
his courage, was a proverb in his day. Upon one occasion, at
the beginning of his sermon before a large audience, he was more
than once interrupted by the persistent but ineffectual attempt of
a saintly old sister to shout. Annoyed at length, turning to her he
said: "Dear sister, never shout as a matter of duty; when you
can't help it, then shout; _but never shout as a mere matter of
duty!"_
At a camp-meeting on the banks of the Cumberland in the early years
of the last century, an attempt was made by a band of desperadoes to
create a disturbance. To this end their leader, a burly ruffian, stalked
to the front of the pulpit, and with an oath commanded Cartwright to
"dry up." Suspending divine service for a few minutes, and laying
aside his coat, the preacher descended from the pulpit and springing
upon the intruder, felled him to the earth and belabored him until
the wretch begged for mercy. The precious boon was withheld until
the now penitent disturber, after promising to repent, had been
given the humblest seat in the "amen corner." This all satisfactorily
completed, and his garment replaced, the minister, scarcely ruffled
by the trifling incident, re-entered the pulpit, and with the words,
"As I was saying, brethren, when interrupted," continued his
discourse.
This little sketch would be unpardonably incomplete if the important
fact were withheld that Peter Cartwright had a relish for politics,
as well as for salvation. He was more than once a member of the
General Assembly of Illinois, and be it said to his eternal honor his
speech and vote were ever on the side of whatever conduced to
the best interests of the State. In him the cause of education,
and the asylums for the unfortunate, had ever an earnest advocate.
Though many years his senior, he was the contemporary of Abraham
Lincoln, and a resident of the same county. Mr. Lincoln was, in
1846, the Whig candidate for Representative in Congress. The
district was of immense area, embracing many counties of Central
Illinois. Newspapers were scarce, and the old-time custom of joint
discussions between opposing candidates for high office were still
in vogue. Mr. Lincoln's unsuccessful competitor was none other
than the subject of this article. The great Whig leader and his
Democratic antagonist--"My friend the Parson," as Mr. Lincoln
familiarly called him--were soon engaged in joint debate. It is
to be regretted that there is no record of these debates. There
is probably no man now living who heard them. But what rare reading
they would be at this day, if happily they had been preserved.
The earnest, inflexible parson,--even then "standing upon the
Western slope,"--backed by his party, then dominant in the national
government, upon the one side; the comparatively youthful lawyer, whose
fame was yet to fill the world, upon the other. No doubt, daily
upon "the stump" and at night at the village taverns, the changes
were rung upon the then all-absorbing subjects, the Walker Tariff,
the War with Mexico, and the Wilmot Proviso. These questions belong
now to the domain of history; as do indeed issues of far greater
consequence, upon which Lincoln and an antagonist more formidable than
Cartwright crossed swords a dozen years later.
At the Democratic State Convention, which assembled in Springfield
in the early spring of 1860, a resolution instructing the Illinois
delegates to support Stephen A. Douglas for nomination to the
Presidency at the approaching National Convention was adopted amidst
great enthusiasm. Immediately upon its adoption, a delegate called
attention to the fact that the venerable Peter Cartwright was
present, and said he knew the Convention would be glad to hear a
word from him. Immediately "Cartwright," "Cartwright," "Cartwright,"
was heard from all parts of the chamber. From his seat, surrounded
by the Sangamon County delegates, near the central part of the
hall, Mr. Cartwright arose, and with deep emotion, and scarcely
audible voice, began:
"My friends and fellow-citizens, I am happy to be with you on
the present occasion. My sun is low down upon the horizon, and
the days of my pilgrimage are almost numbered. I have lived in
Illinois during the entire period of its history as a State. I
have watched with tender interest its marvellous growth from its
feeble condition as a Territory, until it has reached its
present splendor as a State. I have travelled over its prairies,
slept with only the canopy of heaven for a covering; I have followed
the trail of the Indians, fought the desperadoes, swam the rivers,
threaded the almost pathless forests, in order that I might carry the
tidings of the blessed Gospel to the loneliest cabin upon the
border. Yes, my friends, for seventy long years, amid appalling
difficulties and dangers, I have waged an incessant warfare against
the world, the flesh, the devil, _and all the other enemies of the
Democratic party!"_
XVIII
CLEVELAND AS I KNEW HIM
CLEVELAND'S SPEECH ACCEPTING HIS NOMINATION--MR. BLAINE'S FRUITLESS
TOUR AS A CANDIDATE--CLEVELAND'S INSIGHT INTO HUMAN CHARACTER--HIS
TARIFF-REDUCTION MESSAGE--WITHDRAWAL OF THE HAWAIIAN ANNEXATION
TREATY--HIS VENEZUELAN MISSION--HIS ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE SCIENCE OF
GOVERNMENT--HIS QUALIFICATIONS FOR SOCIAL LIFE AND FOR SERVING THE
COUNTRY.
Upon the adjournment of the Democratic National Convention of 1884,
which had nominated Mr. Cleveland for the Presidency, in company
with other delegates I visited him at the Executive Mansion at
Albany, New York. The Hon. William F. Vilas was the chairman of
our committee, and the purpose of the visit to notify Mr. Cleveland,
officially, of his nomination to the great office. I saw him then
for the first time.
He was then Governor of New York, having been but recently elected
by an unprecedented majority. I recall him distinctly on this
occasion as he responded to the eloquent speech of Colonel Vilas.
Standing near him at the time were three men well known at a later
date as members of his cabinet and his closest friends, Daniel
Manning, William C. Whitney, and Daniel S. Lamont.
Cleveland's response to the speech of notification was in dignified,
forceful phrase, and at once challenged public attention and gave the
keynote to the memorable contest which immediately followed. In
some of its aspects it was a Presidential struggle the like of
which we may not again witness. As the day of election drew near,
the excitement increased in intensity, and no efforts that gave
hopes of success were spared by the opposing party managers.
The defection from his ranks by what in campaign publications of
the day was known as the "mugwump" element, caused Mr. Blaine to
venture upon a hazardous tour of speech-making. Enthusiastic
audiences gathered around the brilliant Republican candidate during
his Western tour. This, however, as the sequel showed, was time
and energy wasted; Illinois and Ohio were safely in the Republican
column, and the real battle-ground was New York state. Homeward
bound at length from this strenuous pilgrimage demanded by no party
necessity, Mr. Blaine was fated during his brief sojourn in New
York to listen to the now historical words of Burchard, words which
in all human probability proved the political undoing of the
candidate to whom, with the best intentions, they were earnestly
addressed.
New York, as has been its wont before and since, proved the pivotal
State. For many days after the election the result was still in
doubt. Party feeling was intense, and the result hinged upon
the narrow margin in the vote of Blaine and Cleveland in one State.
During the strenuous days that passed from the election until
the authoritative announcement of the result, one man alone, amid the
high tide of party passion, remained calm. To all appearances
unmoved, Grover Cleveland sat in his office day after day, no detail
of official duty failing to receive his careful attention. The
fact just stated is explanatory of much in his subsequent career.
When first nominated for the Presidency, Mr. Cleveland had
little personal knowledge of public men outside of his own State.
How rapidly he acquired the information necessary to a successful
administration of the government was indeed a marvel. It was no
"Cleveland luck" or haphazard chance that called into his first Cabinet
such men as Bayard, Manning, Garland, Vilas, and Whitney. It can safely
be asserted that Mr. Cleveland was an excellent judge of men and of
their capacity for the particular work assigned them. As if by
intuition, he thoroughly understood after a single interview the men
with whom he was brought in contact. As an object lesson a better
appointment to high office has rarely been made than that of Fuller
to the chief justiceship of the great court. No less fortunate was
his selection of Vilas to the responsible position of Postmaster-General.
And yet both of these gentlemen were personally strangers to Mr. Cleveland
when he was first named for the Presidency. His appointments to important
diplomatic positions likewise strikingly illustrated his aptness
in forming a correct estimate of men from whom his appointees were
to be chosen.
No incumbent of the Presidency was ever less of a time-server than
Cleveland. "Expediency" was a word scarcely known to his vocabulary.
Recognizing alike the dignity and responsibility of the great
office, he was in the highest degree self-reliant. None the less he
at all times availed himself of the wise counsel of his official
advisers. In matters falling within their especial province their
determination was, except in rare instances, conclusive. In no
sense was his mind closed against the timely counsel of his friends.
Far from being opinionated, in the offensive sense of the word, the
ultimate determination, however, was after "having taken counsel
from himself."
The incident contributing perhaps more than any other to his defeat
in 1888 was his tariff-reduction message to Congress one year prior
to that election. An abler state paper has rarely been put forth.
It was a clear, succinct presentation of existing economic conditions;
in very truth an unanswerable argument for tariff reduction. It
is not yet forgotten how promptly this message was denounced by
the entire opposition press as a "free-trade manifesto," and how
this cry increased in voice and volume until the close of the
Presidential contest. And yet, in sending this message to Congress,
Mr. Cleveland was entirely consistent with himself. Its utterances
were in clear accord with the platform upon which he had been
nominated and with his letter of acceptance. It is one of the
anomalies of politics that the clear-cut sentences measurably
instrumental in compassing his defeat in 1888, were upon the banners
of his triumphant partisans in the campaign of 1892.
In the year last named, Mr. Cleveland was for the third time the
candidate of his party for the Presidency. His nomination, by a
two-thirds vote, was upon the first ballot, and marked an era in
the history of national conventions. His candidacy was bitterly
antagonized by the delegation from his own State, his name being
presented by Governor Abbott of New Jersey. It is a fact of
much significance that neither in the platform upon which he was
nominated, nor in the letter of acceptance, was there the slightest
departure from his emphatic utterances upon the tariff in the
memorable message of 1887. The salient issues of the campaign were
"tariff reform" and hostility to the then pending "Force bill."
From first to last Mr. Cleveland was in close consultation with
the leaders of his party and advised as to every detail of the
contest. The result was a vindication of his former administration
and an unmistakable endorsement of the tenets of the Democratic
faith.
In this brief sketch, there can be but slight reference to the
important questions which now for four years engaged his attention.
Almost his first official act after his second inauguration was
the withdrawal from the Senate of the Hawaiian Annexation Treaty
recently submitted by President Harrison for ratification. Firmly
believing that the late United States Minister to the unfortunate island
had at least acquiesced in the overthrow of the Hawaiian Government,
President Cleveland, with the hope that he might measurably repair
the wrong, recalled the Annexation Treaty, as stated. In his
message of withdrawal were the words: "A great wrong has been done
to a feeble and independent State." This almost forgotten incident
is now recalled only to emphasize the spirit of justice that
characterized his dealings with foreign Governments.
And yet history will truly say of him that, while just to other
Governments, no President has more firmly maintained the rights of
his own. This assertion finds verification in the Venezuelan
message, which, for the moment, almost startled the country. By
many it was for the time believed to be the prelude to war. In
very truth, as the sequel proved, it was a message of peace. It
was a critical moment, and the necessity imperative for prompt,
decisive action. If the Monroe Doctrine was to be maintained,
Great Britain could not be permitted arbitrarily to divest Venezuela
of any portion of her territory. The arbitration proposed by
President Cleveland, resulting in peaceable adjustment, established
what we may well believe will prove an enduring precedent. One
sentence of the memorable message is worthy of remembrance by
the oncoming generations: "The Monroe Doctrine was intended to
apply to every stage of our national life, and cannot become obsolete
while our Republic endures."
I had excellent opportunities to know Mr. Cleveland. I was a member
of the first and third conventions which named him for the Presidency,
and actively engaged in both the contests that resulted in his
election. As assistant Postmaster-General during his first term, and
Vice-President during the second, I was often "the neighbor to his
counsels." I am confident that a more conscientious, painstaking official
never filled public station. In his appointments to office his
chief aim was to subserve the public interests by judicious
selections. The question of rewarding party service, while by no
means ignored, was immeasurably subordinate to that of the integrity
and efficiency of the applicant. He was patriotic to the core,
and it was his earnest desire that the last vestige of legislation
inimical to the Southern States should pass from the statute books.
He did much toward the restoration of complete concord between all
sections of the country.
Mr. Cleveland possessed a kind heart, and was ever just and generous
in his dealings. Wholly unostentatious himself, the humblest felt
at ease in his presence. Possibly no incumbent of the great office
was more easily accessible to all classes and conditions. Courteous
at all times, no guards were necessary to the preservation of
his dignity. No one would have thought of an undue familiarity.
He was a profound student of all that pertained to human affairs.
He had given deep thought to the science of government, and was
familiar with the best that had been written on the subject. Caring
little for the light literature of the day, his concern was with
the practical knowledge bearing upon existing conditions and
that might aid in the solution of the ever-recurring problems
confronting men in responsible positions. He loved to talk of the
founders of the Government, and of the matchless instrument, the
result of their wise deliberations, declared by Gladstone, "the
most wonderful work ever struck off at a given time from the brain
and purpose of man." The Constitution was in very truth "the man of
his counsel," and, in my opinion, no statesman in ancient or modern
times so challenged his profound admiration as did James Madison.
Mr. Cleveland was sociable in the best sense of that word, and the
cares of state laid aside, in the company of friends he was an
exceedingly agreeable companion. While by no means the best of
story-tellers himself, he had a keen appreciation of the humorous and
ludicrous phases and incidents of life. I shall not soon forget
an evening I spent with him in company with Governor Proctor Knott
of Kentucky. The greatest story-teller of the age was at his best,
and the delight of the occasion was, as Cleveland declared, "beyond
expression."
More than once I have been a guest in his home. During the campaign
of 1892, when his associate on the national ticket, I spent some
days in conference with him at Gray Gables. The memory of that
long-ago visit lingers yet. He was the agreeable host, the gentleman;
more than that, the tender, considerate husband, the kind, affectionate
father. It has never been my good fortune to cross the threshold of
a more delightful home.
I saw Mr. Cleveland last upon the occasion of his visit to Arbor
Lodge, Nebraska, to deliver an address at the unveiling of a statue
of the late Sterling Morton, former Secretary of Agriculture. The
address was worthy of the occasion, and indeed a just and touching
tribute to the memory of an excellent man, an able and efficient Cabinet
Minister. In my last conversation with Mr. Cleveland upon the
occasion mentioned, he spoke feelingly of our old associates, many
of whom had passed away. I remember that the tears came to his
eyes when the name of Colonel Lamont happened to be mentioned.
During our stay at Arbor Lodge, the beautiful Morton home, by
invitation of the superintendent, Mr. Cleveland visited the
State Asylum for the Blind at Nebraska City. In his brief address
to the unfortunate inmates of the institution, Mr. Cleveland
mentioned the fact that in his early life he had been for some time
a teacher in an asylum for the blind, and spoke of his profound
interest in whatever concerned their welfare. I have heard him
many times, but never when he appeared to better advantage, or
evinced such depth of feeling as upon this occasion.
The passing of Cleveland marks an epoch. He was indeed a striking
figure in American history. Take him all in all, we may not
look upon his like again. The "good citizenship," an expression
frequently on his lips, to which he would have his countrymen
aspire, was of the noblest, and no man had a clearer or loftier
conception of the responsible and sacred character of public station.
With him the oft-quoted words, "A public office is a public trust,"
was no mere lip-service. His will be a large place in history. His
administration of the government will safely endure the test of
time.
"Whatever record leaps to light,
He never can be shamed."
In victory or defeat, in office or out, he was true to his own self
and to his ideals. His early struggles, his firmness of purpose, his
determination that knew no shadow of wavering, his exalted aims,
and the success that ultimately crowned his efforts have given him
high place among statesmen, and will be a continuing inspiration
to the oncoming generations of his countrymen.
XIX
A UNANIMOUS CHOICE FOR SPEAKER
A MEETING OF PROSPECTIVE SPEAKERS--DR. ROGERS WITHIN SIGHT OF
THE GOAL OF HIS AMBITION--HE STATES THE GROUND OF HIS HOPE--THE
FOUNDATION PROVES TO BE ONLY SAND--A TEMPEST CALMED BY THE DOCTOR.
At a banquet in Washington in the winter of 1880-81, a large number
of Representatives were present. Among the number were Reed,
McKinley, Cannon, and Keifer. These gentlemen were all prospective
candidates for the Speakership of the then recently elected House of
Representatives. The best of feeling prevailed, and the occasion
was one of rare enjoyment and mirth. Each candidate in turn was
introduced by the toast-master as "the Speaker of the next House,"
and in his speech each claimed all the others as his enthusiastic and
reliable supporters. The apparent confidence of each candidate in
the support of his rivals reminded Mr. Cannon of the experience of
an Illinois legislator, which he requested his colleague from
the Bloomington district to relate.
That the reader may appreciate the incident then related, some
mention must be made of Dr. Thomas P. Rogers of Bloomington. He
was a gentleman of the old school, a politician from the beginning,
of inflexible integrity and an earnestness of purpose that knew no
shadow of turning. He was as devoid of any possible touch of humor
as was his own marble bust of Thomas Jefferson. He was the personal
friend of Lincoln and of Douglas, and the political follower of
the latter. The fondness of a mother for her first-born hardly
exceeded that of Dr. Rogers for the party of his choice. Any
uncomplimentary allusion to his "principles" was considered a
personal injury, and his devotion to party leaders, from Jackson
to Douglas, savored of idolatry. Some camp-meeting experiences in
early life had given zest and tone to his style of oratory,
which stood him well in hand in his many political encounters of
a later day.
For three consecutive terms the Doctor had been a member of the
Legislature, and his record from every point of view was without
a blemish. At his fourth election, it was found that for the first
time in a decade or more his party had secured a majority in the
House, to which the Doctor had just been elected. The goal of his
ambition was the Speakership, and it truly seemed that his hour
had now come.
Soon after these facts were known beyond peradventure, the Doctor came
one day into my office. After election matters had been talked
over at length and with much satisfaction, the Doctor modestly
intimated a desire to be a candidate for the Speakership. I at
once gave him the promise of my earnest support and inquired whether
he had any friends upon whom he could rely in the approaching
caucus. He assured me that there were four members of the last
House re-elected to this, upon whom he knew he could absolutely
depend under all circumstances. Upon my inquiry as to their names,
he said:
"Hadlai,"--the Doctor, it may be here mentioned, had from my boyhood
kindly given me the benefit of an "H" to which I laid no claim and
was in no way entitled--"Hadlai, you take your pencil and take down
their names as I give them to you."
I at once took my seat, and pencil in hand, looked inquiringly
toward the Doctor.
"Hadlai," he continued, "put down Heise of Cook. John and I
have been friends for more than thirty years; I worked for him for
a delegate-at-large to the last National Convention, and he told
me then, 'Doctor, if there is anything I can do for you, just let me
know.'"
To which I replied, "Heise of Cook, dead sure," and his name was
at once placed in the Rogers column.
"Now, Hadlai," continued the Doctor, "there is Armstrong of La
Salle; Wash and I were boys together in Ohio, and sat side by side
in the Charleston Convention when we were trying to nominate Douglas.
He has told me more than once that if ever we carried the House,
he was for me for Speaker above any man on earth." At which I
unhesitatingly placed Armstrong of La Salle in the same column with
Heise of Cook.
"Now, Hadlai," continued the Doctor, after a moment's pause, "there
is Cummins of Fulton; I helped elect Jim Chairman of the last State
Convention, and he has told me again and again that he hoped he
would live to see me Speaker, so I can count on Jim without doubt."
I at once placed Cummins in the column of honor with Heise and
Armstrong, and calmly awaited further instructions.
"Now, Hadlai, there is Moore of Adams; Alf got into trouble over
a bill he had in the last Legislature; he could neither get it out
of the committee, nor the committee to take any action, so he came
over to my seat terribly worried, and says he, 'Doctor, for
God's sake, get me out of this!' I did, Hadlai, and Alf was the
most grateful man you ever saw on earth, and told me then, 'Doctor,
I would get up at two o'clock at night to do you a favor.' I
can safely count on him."
It is needless to say that Moore of Adams rounded out the quartette
of faithful supporters.
"Now, Hadlai," remarked the Doctor, after contemplating with apparent
satisfaction the list I had handed him, "if you will give me
some paper and envelopes and a pen and some stamps, if you have
them handy, I will write to all of them now." The articles mentioned
were produced, the letters written, stamped, and duly mailed, and
the good Doctor departed in an exceedingly comfortable frame of
mind.
Time passes, as is its wont; but for some weeks I neither saw
nor heard from the Doctor. Meeting him on the street at length,
I at once inquired whether he had received replies to his letters.
"Come into the office, Hadlai, and I will explain." Pained to
observe that the tone and air of confidence so perceptible in
our last interview was lacking, I followed with some misgiving into
his office.
"Yes, Hadlai," he slowly began, "I have heard from all of them.
Heise of Cook [the familiar appellations of the former interview
were wanting] writes assuring me that there is no man living for
whom he entertains a more profound respect then for myself, Hadlai;
but that owing to unforseen complications arising in his county,
he has reluctantly consented _to allow his own name_ to be presented
to the caucus."
The name of Heise of Cook was immediately stricken from the head
of the list. Then a reverie into which the Doctor had fallen was at
length disturbed by my inquiry, "What about Armstrong?"
"Yes, Hadlai, Armstrong of La Salle writes me that in his judgment
there is no man living so deserving of the gratitude of the party,
or so well qualified for the office of Speaker as myself, but that
the pressure from his constituents has been so great that he has
_finally consented to allow his own name_ to be presented to the
caucus."
"Fare-you-well, Mr. Armstrong," was my hurried observation, as the
name of that gentleman disappeared from my list.
Arousing the Doctor at length from the reverie into which he had
again fallen, I ventured to inquire as to the state of mind of Mr.
Cummins.
"Yes, Hadlai, Cummins of Fulton says that in a certain contingency
_he will himself be a candidate,_ and Moore of Adams writes me that
_he is a candidate!"_
It may not be out of place to supplement this little narrative
by relating an incident that illustrates the fact that a man wholly
devoid of any sense of humor himself may at times be the unconscious
cause of amusement in others.
Imprimis: The Doctor, while a member of the General Assembly,
voted for a measure known in local parlance as "the Lake Front
Bill." The criticisms which followed vexed his righteous soul,
and he patiently awaited the opportunity for public explanation
and personal vindication.
Now it so fell out that at the time whereof we write there was much
excitement--a tempest in a tea-pot--in the little city of Bloomington,
over a change in "readers" recently ordered in the schools by
the Board of Education. After much discussion on the streets and at
the corners, a public indignation meeting was called for Saturday evening
at the east door of the Court-house. Meanwhile the indignation
against the offending Board intensified, and there was some
apprehension even of serious trouble. At the appointed time and
place, the meeting assembled and was duly organized by the selection
of a Chairman. Calls at once began for well-known orators at
the bar and upon the hustings. "Ewing," "Fifer," "Rowell," "Prince,"
"Lillard," "Phillips," "Kerrick," "Weldon," were heard from the
crowd in rapid succession. It was like "calling spirits from
the vasty deep." No response was given, no orator appeared; and, as
is well known, an indignation meeting without an orator is as
impossible as "Hamlet" with the Prince of Denmark omitted.