storms of the half century, in which he lived and worked, rolled over him
without causing him any serious embarrassment. His note was always good,
and his word was as good as his note. He always seemed to have money
enough for what he wanted to do. In prosperous times he spent generously,
although habitually practising a kind of stoical severity in regard to
his private affairs. He considered luxury the bane of wealth, and
continually admonished his children to avoid it. He was an old-fashioned
Puritan with liberal and progressive ideas.
After his marriage in 1843 to Miss Abigail Frances Newell, of Boston, he
built a commodious house in a fine grove of chestnuts on a hill-side at
East Walpole; and there he brought up his children like Greeks and
Amazons. Chestnut woods are commonly infested with hornets, but he
directed us boys not to molest them, for he wished them to learn that
hornets would not sting unless they were interfered with; an excellent
principle in human nature. Mrs. Bird resembled her husband so closely in
face and figure, that they might have been mistaken for brother and
sister. She was an excellent New England woman of the old style, and well
adapted to make her husband comfortable and happy.
The connection between manufacturing and politics is a direct and natural
one. A man who employs thirty or forty workmen, and treats them fairly,
can easily obtain an election to the Legislature without exercising any
direct influence over them; but Frank Bird's workmen felt that he had a
personal interest in each one of them. He never was troubled with
strikes. When hard times came his employees submitted to a reduction of
wages without murmuring, and when business was good they shared again in
the general prosperity. As a consequence Mr. Bird could go to the
Legislature as often as he desired; and when he changed from the
Republican to the Democratic party, in 1872, they still continued to vote
for him, until at the age of seventy-one he finally retired from public
life.
On one election day he is said to have called his men together, and to
have told them: "You will have two hours this afternoon to cast your
votes in. The mill will close at 4 o'clock, and I expect every man to
vote as I do. Now I am going to vote just as I please, and I hope you
will all do the same; but if any one of my men does not vote just as he
wants to, and I find it out, I will discharge him to-morrow." One can
imagine Abraham Lincoln making a speech like this, on a similar occasion.
Frank W. Bird, like J. B. Sargent, of New Haven, was a rare instance of
an American manufacturer who believed in free-trade. This was one reason
why he joined the Democratic party in 1872. He considered that protection
encouraged sleazy and fraudulent work, and placed honest manufacturers at
a disadvantage; though he obtained these ideas rather from reading
English magazines than from any serious study of his own. He was
naturally much more of a Democrat than a Whig, or Federalist, but he
opposed the doctrine of State Rights, declaring that it was much more
responsible for the Civil War than the anti-slavery agitation was.
The same political exigency which roused James Russell Lowell also
brought Francis William Bird before the public. In company with Charles
Francis Adams he attended the Buffalo convention, in 1848, and helped to
nominate Martin Van Buren for the Presidency. He was, however, doing more
effective work by assisting Elizur Wright in publishing the
_Chronotype_ (the most vigorous of all the anti-slavery papers),
both with money and writing; and in a written argument there were few who
could equal him. He appears to have been the only person at that time who
gave Elizur Wright much support and encouragement.
In 1850 Bird was elected to the State Legislature and worked vigorously
for the election of Sumner the ensuing winter. His chief associates
during the past two years had been Charles Francis Adams, the most
distinguished of American diplomats since Benjamin Franklin, John A.
Andrew, then a struggling lawyer, and Henry L. Pierce, afterwards Mayor
of Boston. Now a greater name was added to them; for Sumner was not only
an eloquent orator, perhaps second to Webster, but he had a worldwide
reputation as a legal authority.
Adams, however, failed to recognize that like his grandfather he was
living in a revolutionary epoch, and after the Kansas struggle commenced
he became continually more conservative--if that is the word for it--and
finally in his Congressional speech in the winter of 1861 he made the
fatal statement that personally he would be "in favor of permitting the
Southern States to secede," although he could not see that there was any
legal right for it. This acted as a divider between him and his former
associates, until in 1876 he found himself again in the same party with
Frank W. Bird.
During the administration of Governor Banks, that is, between 1857 and
1860, Bird served on the Governor's council, although generally in
opposition to Banks himself. He went as a delegate to the Chicago
Convention of 1860, where he voted at first for Seward, and afterwards
for Lincoln. From that time forward, until 1880, he was always to be
found at the State House, and devoted so much time to public affairs that
it is a wonder his business of paper manufacturing did not suffer from
it. Yet he always seemed to have plenty of time, and was never so much
absorbed in what he was doing but that he could give a cordial greeting
to any of his numerous friends. His face would beam with pleasure at the
sight of an old acquaintance, and I have known him to dash across the
street like a school-boy in order to intercept a former member of the
Legislature who was passing by on the other side. Such a man has a good
heart.
Frank Bird's abilities fitted him for higher positions than he ever
occupied; but he was so serviceable in the Legislature that all his
friends felt that he ought to remain there. He was inexorable in his
demand for honest government, and when he rose to speak all the guilty
consciences in the house began to tremble. He was the terror of the
lobbyist, and of the legislative log-roller. This made him many enemies,
but he expected it and knew how to meet them. He was especially feared
while Andrew was Governor, for every one knew that he had consulted with
Andrew before making his motion. He was the Governor's man of business.
He came to know the character of every politician in the State,--what his
opinions were, and how far he could be depended on. In this way he also
became of great service to Sumner and Wilson, who wished to know what was
taking place behind their backs while they were absent at Washington.
Sumner did not trouble himself much as to public opinion, but this was of
great importance to Wilson, who depended on politics for his daily bread.
Both, however, wanted to know the condition of affairs in their own
State, and they found that Frank Bird's information was always
trustworthy,--for he had no ulterior object of his own.
Thus he acquired much greater influence in public affairs than most of
the members of Congress. When Mr. Baldwin, who represented his district,
retired in 1868, Frank Bird became a candidate for the National
Legislature, but he suffered from the disadvantage of living at the small
end of the district, and the prize was carried off by George F. Hoar,
afterwards United States Senator; but going to Congress in the seventies
was not what it had been in the fifties and sixties, when the halls of
the Capitol resounded with the most impressive oratory of the nineteenth
century.
Frank Bird did not pretend to be an orator. His speeches were frank,
methodical and directly to the point; and very effective with those who
could be influenced by reason, without appeals to personal prejudice. He
hated flattery in all its forms, and honestly confessed that the
temptation of public speakers to cajole their audiences was the one great
demon of a democratic government. He liked Wendell Phillips on account of
the manly way in which he fought against his audiences, and strove to
bring them round to his own opinion.
He was as single-minded as Emerson or Lincoln. In November, 1862, Emerson
said to me: "I came from Springfield the other day in the train with your
father's friend, Frank Bird, and I like him very much. I often see his
name signed to newspaper letters, and in future I shall always read
them." Strangely enough, a few days later I was dining with Mr. Bird and
he referred to the same incident. When I informed him that Emerson had
also spoken of it he seemed very much pleased.
If any one paid him a compliment or expressed gratitude for some act of
kindness, he would hesitate and become silent for a moment, as if he were
reflecting whether he deserved it or not; and then would go on to some
other subject.
His acts of kindness were almost numberless. He assisted those whom
others would not assist; and if he suspected that a small office-holder
was being tyrannized over, he would take no rest until he had satisfied
himself of the truth of the case. In February, 1870, he learned that a
high official in the Boston Post-office, who was supported in his
position by the Governor of the State, was taking advantage of this to
levy a blackmail on his subordinates, compelling them to pay him a
commission in order to retain their places. Frank Bird was furious with
honest indignation. He said: "I will go to Washington and have that man
turned out if I have to see Grant himself for it"; and so he did.
One evening at Walpole a poor woman came to him in distress, because her
only son had been induced to enlist in the Navy, and was already on board
a man-of-war at the Boston Navy-yard. Mr. Bird knew the youth, and was
aware that he was very slightly feeble-minded. The vessel would sail in
three days, and there was no time to be lost. He telegraphed the facts as
briefly as possible to Senator Wilson, and in twenty-four hours received
an order to have the widow's son discharged. Then he would not trust the
order to the commandant, who might have delayed its execution, but sent
it to an agent of his own in the Navy-yard, who saw that the thing was
done.
Frank Bird's most distinguished achievement in politics was the
nomination of Andrew for Governor in 1860. Governor Banks was not
favorable to Andrew and his friends, and used what influence he possessed
for the benefit of Henry L. Dawes. An organization for the nomination of
Dawes had already been secretly formed before Frank Bird was acquainted
with Banks's retirement from the field. Bird and Henry L. Pierce were at
Plymouth when they first heard of it, about the middle of July, and they
immediately returned to Boston, started a bureau, opened a subscription-
list, and with the cooperation of the Bird Club carried the movement
through. It would have made a marked difference in public affairs during
the War for the Union if Dawes had been Governor instead of Andrew.
[Footnote: Dawes was an excellent man in his way, but during eighteen
years in the United States Senate he never made an important speech.]
Frank Bird had this peculiarity, that the more kindly he felt to those
who were unfortunate in life, the more antagonistic he seemed to those
who were exceptionally prosperous. He appeared to have a sort of spite
against handsome men and women, as if nature had been over-partial to
them in comparison with others. He was not a pedantic moralist, but at
the same time rather exacting in his requirements of others, as he was of
himself.
The Bird Club was evolved out of the conditions of its times, like a
natural growth. Its nucleus was formed in the campaign of 1848, when
Bird, Andrew, Henry L. Pierce, and William S. Robinson fell into the
habit of dining together and discussing public affairs every Saturday
afternoon. It was not long before they were joined by Elizur Wright and
Henry Wilson. Sumner came to dine with them, when he was not in
Washington, and Dr. S. G. Howe came with him. The Kansas excitement
brought in George L. Stearns and Frank B. Sanborn,--one the president and
the other the secretary of the Kansas Aid Society. In 1860 the club had
from thirty to forty members, and during the whole course of its
existence it had more than sixty members; but it never had any regular
organization. A member could bring a friend with him, and if the friend
was liked, Mr. Bird would invite him to come again. No vote ever appears
to have been taken. Mr. Bird sat at the head of the table, and if he was
late or absent his place would be supplied by George L. Stearns. At his
right hand sat Governor Andrew, and either Sumner or Stearns on his left.
Doctor Howe and Wilson sat next to them, and were balanced on the
opposite side by Sanborn, Governor Washburn, and two or three members of
Congress. However, there was no systematic arrangement of the guests at
this feast, although the more important members of the club naturally
clustered about Mr. Bird.
N. P. Banks never appeared there, either as Governor or General; and from
this it was argued that he was ambitious to become Senator; or it may
have been owing to his differences with Bird, while the latter was on the
Governor's Council. In this way the Bird Club became the test of a man's
political opinion, and prominent politicians who absented themselves from
it were looked upon with more or less distrust.
The discussions at the club were frank, manly, and unreserved. Members
who talked from the point were likely to be corrected without ceremony,
and sometimes received pretty hard knocks. On one occasion General B. F.
Butler, who had come into the club soon after his celebrated contraband-
of-war order, was complaining that the New York Republicans had nominated
General Francis C. Barlow for Secretary of State, and that General Barlow
had not been long enough in the Republican party to deserve it, when
Robinson replied to him that Barlow had been a Republican longer than
some of those present, and Frank Bird remarked that he was as good a
Republican as any that were going. Butler looked as if he had swallowed a
pill.
William S. Robinson was at once the wit and scribe of the club, and the
only newswriter that was permitted to come to the table. He enjoyed the
advantage of confidential talk and authentic information, which no other
writer of that time possessed, and his letters to the Springfield
_Republican_, extending over a period of fifteen years, come next in
value to the authentic documents of that important period. They possessed
the rare merit of a keen impartiality, and though sometimes rather sharp,
were never far from the mark. He not only criticised Grant and the
political bosses of that time, but his personal friends, Sumner, Wilson,
and Frank Bird himself.
In 1872 Emerson said to a member of the club: "I do not like William
Robinson. His hand is against every man"; but it is doubtful if Robinson
ever published so hard a criticism of any person, and certainly none so
unjust. Emerson without being aware of it was strongly influenced by a
cabal for the overthrow of Robinson, in which General Butler took a
leading hand. Robinson was clerk of the State Senate, and could not
afford to lose his position; afterwards, when he did lose it, he fell
sick and died. He preferred truth-telling and poverty to a compromising
prosperity, and left no one to fill his place.
Frank B. Sanborn was for a time editor of the Boston _Commonwealth_,
and afterwards of the Springfield _Republican_; but he was better
known as the efficient Secretary of the Board of State Charities, a
position to which he was appointed by Governor Andrew, and from which he
was unjustly removed by Governor Ames, twenty years later. He was an
indefatigable worker, and during that time there was not an almshouse or
other institution, public or private, in the State for the benefit of the
unfortunate portion of mankind where he was not either feared or
respected--a man whose active principle was the conscientious performance
of duty. He was also noted for his fidelity to his friends. He cared for
the family of John Brown and watched over their interests as if they had
been his own family; he made a home for the poet Channing in his old age,
and was equally devoted to the Alcotts and others, who could not
altogether help themselves. He was himself a charitable institution.
Henry Wilson is also worth a passing notice, for the strange resemblance
of his life to President Lincoln's, if for no other reason. His name was
originally Colbath, and he was reputed to have been born under a barbery-
bush in one of the green lanes of New Hampshire. The name is an
exceptional one, and the family would seem to have been of the same
roving Bedouin-like sort as that of Lincoln's ancestors. He began life as
a shoemaker, was wholly self-educated, and changed his name to escape
from his early associations. He would seem to have absorbed all the
virtue in his family for several generations. No sooner had he entered
into politics than he was recognized to have a master hand. He rose
rapidly to the highest position in the gift of his State, and finally to
be Vice-President. If his health had not given way in 1873 he might even
have become President in the place of Hayes; for he was a person whom
every man felt that he could trust. His loyalty to Sumner bordered on
veneration, and was the finest trait in his character. There was no
pretense in Henry Wilson's patriotism; everyone felt that he would have
died for his country.
In 1870 General Butler disappeared from the club, to the great relief of
Sumner and his immediate friends. He had already shown the cloven foot by
attacking the financial credit of the government; and the question was,
what would he do next? He had found the club an obstacle to his further
advancement in politics, and when in the autumn campaign Wendell Phillips
made a series of attacks on the character of the club, and especially on
Bird himself, the hand of Butler was immediately recognized in it, and
his plans for the future were easily calculated. It is probable that
Phillips supposed he was doing the public a service in this, but the
methods he pursued were not much to his credit. Phillips learned that the
president of the Hartford and Erie Railroad had recently given Mr. Bird
an Alderney bull-calf, and as he could not find anything else against
Bird's character he made the most of this. He spoke of it as of the
nature of a legislative bribe, and in an oration delivered in the Boston
Music Hall he called it "a thousand dollars in blood."
"Who," he asked of his audience, "would think of exchanging a _bird_
for a bull!"
This was unfortunate for the calf, which lost its life in consequence;
but it was not worth more than ten dollars, and the contrast between the
respective reputations of General Butler and Mr. Bird made Wendell
Phillips appear in rather a ridiculous light.
The following year, 1871, as the Bird Club expected, General Butler made
a strong fight for the gubernatorial nomination, and the club opposed him
in a solid body. Sanborn at this time was editing the Springfield
_Republican_, and he exposed Butler's past political course in an
unsparing manner. Butler made speeches in all the cities and larger towns
of the State, and when he came to Springfield he singled out Sanborn,
whom he recognized in the audience, for a direct personal attack. Sanborn
rose to reply to him, and the contrast between the two men was like that
between Lincoln and Douglas; Sanborn six feet four inches in height, and
Butler much shorter, but very thick-set. The altercation became a warm
one, and Butler must have been very angry, for he grew red in the face
and danced about the platform as if the boards were hot under his feet.
The audience greeted both speakers with applause and hisses.
It was a decided advantage for General Butler that there were three other
candidates in the field; but both Sumner and Wilson brought their
influence to bear against him, and this, with Sanborn's telling
editorials, would seem to have decided his defeat; for when the final
struggle came at the Worcester Convention the vote was a very close one
and a small matter might have changed it in his favor.
The difference between Sumner and the administration, in 1872, on the San
Domingo question accomplished what Phillips and Butler were unable to
effect. Frank Bird and Sumner's more independent friends left the club,
which was then dining at Young's Hotel, and seceded to the Parker House,
where Sumner joined them not long afterwards. Senator Wilson and the more
deep-rooted Republicans formed a new organization called the
Massachusetts Club, which still existed in the year 1900.
The great days of the Bird Club were over. With the death of Sumner, in
1874, its political importance came to an end, and although its members
continued to meet for five or six years longer, it ceased to attract
public attention.
At the age of eighty Frank W. Bird still directed the financial affairs
of his paper business, but he looked back on his life as a "wretched
failure." No matter how much he accomplished, it seemed to him as nothing
compared with what he had wished to do. Would there were more such
failures!
SUMNER.
Charles Pickney Sumner, the father of Charles Sumner, was a man of an
essentially veracious nature. He was high sheriff of Suffolk County,
Massachusetts, and when there was a criminal to be executed he always
performed the office himself. Once when some one inquired why he did not
delegate such a disagreeable task to one of his deputies, he is said to
have replied, "Simply because it is disagreeable." It was this elevated
sense of moral responsibility which formed the keynote of his son's
character.
Charles Sumner's mother was Miss Relief Jacobs, a name in which we
distinguish at once a mixture of the Hebrew and the Puritan. She belonged
in fact to a Christianized Jewish family, but how long since her
ancestors became Christianized remains in doubt. Yet it is easy to
recognize the Hebrew element in Sumner's nature; the inflexibility of
purpose, the absolute self-devotion, and even the prophetic forecast.
Sumner was an old Hebrew prophet in the guise of an American statesman.
True to his mother's name, he was at once a Puritan and an Israelite in
whom there was no guile; for he was wholly exempt from covetousness and
other meaner qualities of the Hebrew nature. In such respects Jews and
Yankees are much alike. Either they are generous and high-minded, or they
are not.
Charles was rather a peculiar boy, as great men are apt to be in their
youth. He cared little for boyish games, and still less for the bright
eyes of the girls. He had remarkably long arms and legs, which were too
often in the way of his comrades, and from which he derived the nickname
at the Latin-School of "gawky Sumner"; and it may be well to notice here
that there is no better sign for future superiority than for a lad to be
ridiculed in this manner; while the wags who invent such _sobriquets_
usually come to no good end. [Footnote: More than one such has died the
death of an inebriate.] There is sufficient evidence, however, that
Sumner was well liked both at school and at college.
He had his revenge on declamation day, for whereas others stumbled
through their pieces, he seemed perfectly at home on the platform; his
awkwardness disappeared and his performance gave plain indications of the
future orator. Wendell Phillips was in the class after him, and they both
were excellent speakers.
Sumner's early life was not like that of Lincoln, neither was he obliged
to split rails for a living; but it was a life of good stoical training
nevertheless. Sheriff Sumner had eight children living at one time, and
with the natural desire to give them as good an education as his own, he
could not afford to spend much on external elegances. It was not until
Charles had become a distinguished lawyer that his mother dispensed with
the iron forks and spoons on her dinner table; and this gives a fair idea
of their domestic economy. We learn from Pierce's biography that his
college expenses did not exceed two hundred dollars a year; and this
included everything.