WASHINGTON CELEBRITIES.
When President Johnson occupied the White House he was joined by
the ladies of his family. Mrs. Johnson had been an invalid for
twenty years, and although she could not go into society on account
of her ill-health, her pride was amply gratified in the advancement
of her husband, whom she had taught to read when he was a village
tailor and had won her heart. Her only appearance in public at
the White House was at a party given to her grand-children. She
then remained seated, and as the young guests were presented to
her she would say, "My dears, I am an invalid," which was fully
proven by her careworn, pale face, and her sunken eyes.
Mrs. Patterson, the President's eldest daughter, was the wife of
David T. Patterson, who was elected United States Senator from
Tennessee soon after Mr. Johnson became President. She had been
educated where so many daughters of the South have been, at the
Academy of the Visitation in Georgetown, and while her father was
in the Senate she had remained there, spending her weekly holidays
with President Polk's family in the White House. There she met
Mrs. Madison, the Blairs, Lees, and other old families of Washington,
many of whom, in later years, gladly welcomed her return to
Washington. She was thus early introduced into Washington social
life, and the people who imagined that Andrew Johnson's family were
to prove a millstone about his neck forgot that Martha Patterson
was his daughter. When some of the leaders of Washington society
undertook to call at the White House and tender their patronage,
Mrs. Patterson quietly remarked to them: "We are a plain people
from the mountains of East Tennessee, called here for a short time
by a national calamity, but we know our position and shall maintain
it." Mrs. Storer was President Johnson's other daughter, and the
widowed mother of young children. A son, Robert Johnson was very
dear to his father, but Mrs. Patterson was his favorite child, as
she possessed his mental characteristics.
In the great struggle which ensued between the President and
Congress, the Senate was really under the leadership of Roscoe
Conkling, although Sumner, Fessenden, and Wade, each regarded
himself as the head of the Republicans in the Upper House. Mr.
Conkling was at that time a type of manly beauty. Tall, well made,
with broad shoulders and compact chest and an erect carriage, he
was always dressed with scrupulous neatness, wearing a dark frock-
coat, light-colored vest and trousers, with gaiters buttoned over
his shoes. His nose was large and prominent, his eyes of a bluish-
gray hue, surmounted by heavy dark auburn eyebrows, his side whiskers
curled closely, and his hair ran down with a sharp point into the
middle of his broad, bald forehead, where it rose in a curl. His
language was elegant, and when he spoke on the floor every word
was clearly enunciated, while slow and deliberate gestures lent
effect to what he said. At times, when his features would light
up with animation, his deep nostrils would quiver and lengthen into
the expression of scorn, which would often lash an opponent into
fury. His manner toward strangers was at times dictatorial, but
his personal friends worshiped him, and they have never thrown off
their allegiance.
Oliver P. Morton, the "War Governor" of Indiana, entered the Senate
in time to take a prominent part in resisting the arrogant claims
of President Johnson. He had found it difficult to ascend from
the vale of poverty, but with indomitable energy he had overcome
all obstacles. The promptness, the vigor, and thorough manner with
which he discussed every question upon which he took hold soon won
him the respect of his associates, to which was added their sympathy,
caused by his physical condition. Possessed of an extraordinary
physique and an iron constitution, he gradually lost the use of
his lower limbs without a murmur, and after he was hopelessly
crippled he moved about on his canes with a herculean effort. He
spoke with great power, his penetrating eyes flashing with patriotism
as he plead the cause of the emancipated, or flashing with anger
as with withering denunciation and sarcasm he denounced their
oppressors. His mind was especially utilitarian and his speeches
were more remarkable for common sense than for the flowers of
rhetoric or the brilliancy or oratory. With indomitable perseverance
and pluck he possessed a large heart, and his charities were freely
given.
George F. Edmunds, of Vermont, was another Senator who took his
seat in time to participate in the great contest with President
Johnson, in which the fruits of the war were at stake. He was not
a college graduate, yet few men have acquired a broader culture
from contact with men and the study of books. Tall and spare in
figure, his bald head and flowing white beard gave him a resemblance
to the classic portrait of St. Jerome, but, unlike that portrait,
his head is dome-shaped, symmetrical, while his temples are wide
apart and full between. He debates a question in a clear, half-
conversational manner, occasionally indulging in a dash of sarcasm
which makes those Senators who are the objects of it wince. What
he says goes into the _Congressional Record_ without any revision
or correction, although many other members of Congress pass a deal
of time in revising, polishing, and correcting the reports of their
remarks. Invaluable in opposition and almost irresistible in
assault, Senator Edmunds has always been regarded by the Republicans
in the Senate as their "tower of strength" when the political
horizon was overcast.
Zach Chandler, the merchant-Senator from Michigan, who was attaining
high rank in the Republican councils, was justly proud of his
business standing as a dry-goods dealer in Detroit, and he used to
narrate how, when almost every business man there failed, in 1837,
he could not see his way clear to the settlement of his own
liabilities. He made a statement of his affairs, and, taking what
money he could raise, went to New York and proposed to his creditors
there to make an assignment. His principal creditor said to him:
"You are too straightforward a man and too honest and enterprising
a merchant to go under. You can take your own time for payment,
and we will furnish you with a new stock of goods." The young
merchant accepted the extension of time, and, going home, went to
work again and was soon able to pay all his debts in full.
Senator Anthony, of Rhode Island, was a model Senator. Endowed by
nature with a gracious presence, integrity, and good sense, what
he had to say on any question was always listened to with attention
on both sides of the Senate Chamber. He excelled in the felicitous
eulogies which he was called upon to deliver over departed associates.
"The shaft of Death, Mr. President," said he on one of these
occasions, "has been buried in this Chamber of late with fearful
frequency, sparing neither eminence nor usefulness nor length of
service. No one can predict where it will next strike, whose seat
will next be vacated. With our faces to the setting sun, we tread
the declining path of life, and the shadows lengthen and darken
behind us. The good, the wise, the brave fall before our eyes,
but the Republic survives. The stream of events flows steadily
on, and the agencies that seemed to direct and control its current,
to impel or to restrain its force, sink beneath its surface, which
they disturb scarcely by a ripple."
Senator Nye, of Nevada--Jim Nye--sat for years at the right hand
of Charles Sumner in the United States Senate, and used to delight
in making comments on what transpired in language that was not
agreeable to the fastidious Senator from Massachusetts, who would
listen in a stately embarrassment which was delightful to Nye to
witness, not wishing to show any offense, and yet thoroughly
disgusted. Nye wasn't particularly witty in debate, and the speeches
of Proctor Knott, McCreery, or Sam Cox were funnier than his;
neither had he any Senatorial dignity whatever. He had, in its
place, a vast store of humor and genial humanity--better articles,
that brought him in love all that he lost in respect. He had more
humor than wit, although many of his good things possessed the
sharp scintillations of the last-mentioned article, as when Horace
Greeley sat down on the Senator's new hat, and Nye, picking up the
crushed stove-pipe, said, gravely, "I could have told you it wouldn't
fit before trying it on." He had little or no literary culture,
read few books, and never troubled others with his convictions, if
he had any, which was doubtful. He was a Falstaff of the nineteenth
century, and it could be said of him, as Prince Hal said of his
boon companion, "We could better spare a better man."
Mr. Elihu B. Washburne was the "Father of the House," and the man
who had brought forward General Grant at a time when the Republic
was sorely in need of such a man. Thad Stevens ruled the weak-
kneed Republicans with a rod of iron, and never hesitated about
engaging in a political intrigue that would benefit the party, as
he understood its mission. Benjamin F. Butler was another power
in the House, who delighted to engage in a debate, with copious
invective interlinings, and who was more feared on the Republican
side of the House than on the Democratic. And then there was Oakes
Ames, a blunt, honest man, whose perceptions of right and wrong
were not cloaked, but who placed his "Credit Mobilier" shares "where
they would do the most good."
In the House of Representatives, Mr. Speaker Colfax presided in
rather a slap-dash-knock-'em-down-auctioneer style, greatly at
variance with the decorous dignity of his predecessors, and he was
ever having an eye to the nomination for Vice-President in 1869.
The most popular man in the House was unquestionably James G.
Blaine, who exercised a fascination over all, and whose occasional
speeches were marked by their purity of style, their terseness,
and the strength of their arguments. His then graceful as well as
powerful figure, his strong features, glowing with health, and his
hearty, honest manner, made him an attractive speaker and an esteemed
friend. Whatever might be said about some of his railroad
speculations, no one ever lisped a syllable against his private
character, nor was there in Washington a more devoted husband, a
more affectionate father, or a kinder friend.
Once, when Mr. Tucker, of Virginia, was addressing the House, Mr.
Blaine rose and questioned him concerning the accuracy of his
statements. Mr. Tucker's reply implied that he doubted Mr. Blaine's
ability to pass correct judgment on legal subjects, as that gentleman
was not a lawyer. Blaine's memory enabled him to rejoin by reminding
the distinguished member from Virginia of some egregious blunder
committed by Mr. Tucker when filling the Attorney-Generalship of
the Old Dominion, and he concluded by saying that if the commission
of such a mistake was the result of being a lawyer, he, at least,
congratulated himself on not belonging to the legal fraternity.
Mr. Tucker thereupon said that his honorable friend from Maine
reminded him of the Pharisee in the parable, apparently thanking
his Deity for having created him unlike--"You," broke in Mr. Blaine,
who had seated himself in the semicircle immediately in front of
Mr. Tucker's desk. This telling interruption was greeted with
roars of laughter, which completely drowned further remarks from
the Virginian, most noted as a constitutional lawyer and as a wit.
A high tribute to Mr. Blaine's personal ability and popularity was
paid in his election as Speaker of three successive Congresses,
covering a period from March 4th, 1869, to March 4th, 1875. On
the latter date, when by party changes it had become evident that
a Democratic Speaker would succeed him, Mr. Blaine made a neat
valedictory in adjourning the session, and as he declared the
adjournment and dropped his gavel, a scene of tumultuous enthusiasm
ensued. The crowded assemblage, floor and galleries, rose and
greeted him with repeated salvos of applause, running in waves from
side to side, with almost delirious cheering, clapping of hands,
and waving of handkerchiefs. Fully five minutes, it seemed, he
was detained, bowing and acknowledging with emotion, this tribute
to the record he had made, and for full half an hour afterward
there poured toward his standing place, at the clerk's desk, a
constant stream of members and citizens anxious to press his hand
and express in words the admiration already shown in signs. None
who were there can forget the impression made by this scene.
Fernando Wood, of New York, was the best known man on the Democratic
side of the House, nor was there a bureau official in the War
Department who had such a military deportment. Tall, spare, erect,
with clothes of faultless fit and closely buttoned to the chin,
his hair cut short and his face cleanly shaven, with the exception
of a heavy white moustache, he was the beau ideal of a colonel of
the Old Guard. His manners were as courtly as were those of Lord
Chesterfield, while his features were as immovable and emotionless
as were those of Talleyrand. In his earlier days "Fernandy Wud"
was identified with the lowest element of New York politics, and
his political reputation was so unsavory that his own party twice,
when opportunity offered, refused to elect him Speaker, a place to
which he was entitled by seniority. On several occasions he was
denounced virulently in debate, but he stood up "like a little man"
and faced his assailants with features as imperturbable as if they
were carved from marble. Mr. Wood's ambition was to be chosen
Speaker when the revolutions of Fortune's wheel would again give
the Democratic party the ascendency. This prompted him to entertain
very liberally, and he used to receive many promises of support,
but when the caucus was held, he never received over half a dozen
votes.
[Facsimile]
HBAnthony
HENRY BOWEN ANTHONY was born at Coventry, Rhode Island, April 1st,
1815; was editor of _The Providence Journal_; was Governor of Rhode
Island, 1849-1850; was United States Senator, 1859, until his death
at Providence, Rhode Island, September 2d, 1884.