confines of the American Republic to know that there is no way of
getting an ordinary unprivileged measure considered and voted upon
in this House unless it suits the Speaker. I am aware that there are
several _theoretical_ ways of getting a measure up; but they have no
actual reality—no fruitage in fact. I make the statement on this
floor now, that no member of this body who introduces a bill—not a
private bill, but a public bill—can get it considered or brought
forward for final determination unless it suits the Speaker. And if
any one wants to deny that statement I am in a personal position and
in a peculiarly happy frame of mind right now to give a little
valuable testimony on that point! [Applause and laughter.]
Imagine, if you please, a measure—not a private measure, but a
public measure—which has been considered at length by a great
committee of this House and favorably reported with the
recommendation that it do pass. That bill is then placed on the
"Calendar." The Calendar! That is a misnomer. It ought to be called
a cemetery [laughter], for therein lie the whitening bones of
legislative hopes. [Laughter.] When the bill is reported and placed
on the Calendar, what does the member who introduced it and who is
charged by his constituency to secure its passage do?
Does he consult himself about his desire to call it up? No. Does he
consult the committee who considered the bill and recommended it for
passage? No. Does he consult the will of the majority of this House?
No. What does he do? I will tell you what he does. He either
consents that that bill may die upon the Calendar, or he puts his
manhood and his individuality in his pocket and goes trotting down
that little pathway of personal humiliation that leads—where? To the
Speaker's room. Ay, the Speaker's room. All the glories that
clustered around the holy of holies in King Solomon's temple looked
like 30 cents [prolonged laughter and applause]—yes, looked like 29
cents—compared with that jobbing department of this government!
[Applause and laughter.]
Then you are in the presence of real greatness. What then? Why, the
Speaker looks over _your_ bill, and then _he_ tells _you_ whether
_he_ thinks it ought to come up or not!
There is a condition which I commend to the patriotic consideration
of the American people. Contemplate that for a method of procedure
in the legislative body of a great and free republic.
WHO IS THE SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE?
Who is the Speaker of this House who sets up his immaculate and
infallible judgment against the judgment of all comers? Is there
anything different or superior in the credentials that he carries
from the credentials that were issued to you and to me from
70,000,000 of American people? When he entered this House at the
beginning of the Fifty-sixth and Fifty-seventh Congresses he was
simply a Congressman-elect, bearing credentials like every other man
on this floor. He has no greater power now than any other member,
save the additional power we ourselves bestowed upon him by electing
him Speaker and then adopting this set of rules. The question that
now arises to confront us is: Have we put a club in the hands of
some one else to beat us to death? Have we elevated one man on a
pinnacle so high that he can not now see those who elevated him? Is
the Speaker of this House a mere mortal man of common flesh and
clay, or is he supernatural and immortal? What miracle was wrought
at his birth? Did a star shoot from its orbit when he was born, or
did he come into existence in the good old-fashioned way that
ushered the rest of us into this vale of tears?
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
I make no onslaught on the individual. I have a high regard for the
Speaker of this House personally and for him politically; but we
face the fact that we have adopted a set of rules in this body that
are an absolute disgrace to the legislative body of any republic.
Throughout the entire three years of my service in this body I have
been up against the little machine that dominates the proceedings
and the deliberations of this House. During the entire three years
prior to this time I have always treated that machine with the
deference due to its age and its reputation. I trust you will excuse
my frankness when I tell you that from this time on I shall devote a
little of my time and a tithe of my energy to putting a few spokes
in the wheel of that machine that the designers of the vehicle never
ordered. [Laughter.]
I for one expect to live to see the day in this House not when the
Speaker shall tell the individual members of this House what he is
going to permit them to bring up, but when those individual members,
constituting a majority, will inform the Speaker what they are going
to bring up for themselves.
X
THE SUPREME COURT ROOM
CONTINUING our examination of what is called the original Capitol
building, we would stop next at the Supreme Court room, once the Senate
Chamber of the United States. For quiet, harmonious beauty it is
unequaled by any other room in the building.
It was designed by Latrobe, after the model of a Greek theater—a
semicircular hall, with low-domed ceiling, and small gallery back and
over the seats occupied by the dignified judges of the Supreme Court of
the United States.
"The Bench" is composed of large leather upholstered chairs, with the
chair of the Chief Justice in the center, and those of the Associate
Justices on either side. In front of these is a table around which the
counsel are seated, and back of a railing seats are arranged around the
wall for spectators.
On the walls are the busts of the former Chief Justices of the United
States: John Jay, of New York; John Rutledge, of South Carolina; Oliver
Ellsworth, of Connecticut; John Marshall, of Virginia; Roger B. Taney,
of Maryland; Salmon P. Chase, of Ohio; and Morrison R. Waite, of Ohio.
Back of the judges is placed a number of graceful Ionic columns of
Potomac marble, the white capitals copied from the Temple of Minerva.
The Standard Guide of Washington pictures the present court in this way:
┌──┐ ┌──┬──┬──┬──┬──┬──┬──┬──┬──┐ ┌──┐
│10│ │ 8│ 6│ 4│ 2│ 1│ 3│ 5│ 7│ 9│ │11│
└──┘ └──┴──┴──┴──┴──┴──┴──┴──┴──┘ └──┘
┌──┐ ── ── ── ── ── ── ── ── ── ┌──┐
│13│ │12│
└──┘ ┌────────┐ └──┘
│ 14 │
└────────┘
SEATING PLAN OF THE SUPREME COURT CHAMBER
Chief Justice occupies Chair No. 1
His colleagues sit on either side
No. 10—Clerk's Desk
No. 11—Marshal's Desk
No. 12—Reporters' Desk
No. 13—Attorney-General's Desk
No. 14—Counsel's Desk
In this hall Webster answered Hayne, and here Benton and John Randolph
made their great speeches. On the left side of the Senate stood Calhoun
in many a contest with Clay and Webster on the right.
One day Calhoun boasted of being the superior of Clay in argument. He
said: "I had him on his back; I was his master; he was at my mercy."
Clay strode down the aisle, and, shaking his long finger in Calhoun's
face, said: "He my master! Sir, I would not own him for my slave!"
It is said to be the handsomest court room in the world. Every week-day
from October till May, except during Christmas and Easter holidays, just
at twelve o'clock the crier enters the court room and announces: "The
Honorable Chief Justice and the Associate Justices of the Supreme Court
of the United States," at which everybody, including visitors and
lawyers, stand. Just then nine large, dignified old gentlemen, led by
Chief Justice Fuller, kicking up their long black silk robes behind
them, enter the room; each, standing before his chair, bows to the
lawyers, the lawyers and spectators bow to them, then all are seated.
The crier then opens court by saying: "O yea! O yea! O yea! All persons
having business with the honorable the Supreme Court of the United
States are admonished to draw near and give their attendance, as the
court is now sitting. God save the United States and this honorable
court."
After this quaint little speech business begins.
The members of the court wear gowns like the ecclesiastical robes of the
Church of England. This began in early days when this country took
English law and customs for pattern and precedent.
The seats of the judges are placed in the order of the time of their
appointment, the senior judges occupying seats on either hand of the
Chief Justice, while the latest appointments sit at the farthest end of
each row.
This order of precedence extends even into the consulting-room, where
the judges meet to talk over difficult cases, the Chief Justice
presiding at the head.
Our country is justly proud of its judiciary. The Supreme Court of our
country is the last rampart of liberty. Should this court become corrupt
our free institutions will surely perish.
The Supreme Court of the United States has, however, made some grave
mistakes—witness the famous decision of Justice Taney—but, for the most
part, time has only verified their decisions.
The men who have sat here have not only been fair representatives of the
legal knowledge of their day but also men of unimpeachable integrity and
of the highest patriotism. Many of them have been devout Christians.
Some on the bench at present are among the best church workers of
Washington.
Courts are conservative bodies. Conservatism produces nothing, but is
useful in preserving that which enthusiasm has created.
This Supreme Court room has been made further memorable as being the
place in which, in 1877, sat the Electorial Commission which decided the
Presidential contest as to whether Hayes, of the Republican party, or
Tilden, of the Democratic party, should be the Executive of a great
nation for four years.
In the fall of 1876, when the elections were over, it was found that the
result was in serious and dangerous dispute. The Senate was Republican,
the House Democratic. Each distrusted the other. It was feared that on
the following 4th of March the country would be forced to face one of
two series dilemmas: either that the country would have no President, or
that two would-be Presidents would, with their followers, strive to
enter the White House and take violent possession of the government. Men
would have shot the way they voted. On the 7th of December, Judge George
W. McCrary, a Representative of Iowa, afterward in Hayes's Cabinet,
later a circuit judge of the United States, submitted a resolution which
became the basis of the Electoral Commission. Three distant Southern
States had sent to the Capitol double sets of election returns—one set
for Mr. Tilden, one set for Mr. Hayes. On these nineteen votes depended
the Presidency for four years.
If they were counted for Tilden, he would have two hundred and three
votes and Hayes one hundred and sixty-six; or, if counted for Hayes, he
would have one hundred and eighty-five votes and Tilden one hundred and
eighty-four. The States whose certificates of election were in dispute
were Florida, Louisiana, South Carolina, and Oregon.
The members of the Electoral Commission were selected either as
representatives of their party, or men considered the embodiment of
honor and justice. The Commission consisted of five Senators, five
Judges of the Supreme Court, and five Representatives from the Lower
House of Congress. The attorneys were the leading lawyers of each party.
The Cabinet, leading Senators, Congressmen, foreign Ministers, and
distinguished people from all portions of the country, were present. The
wit, the beauty, the writers, the wisdom of the country assembled in
this room to weigh the arguments, and at last to hear the decision that
Rutherford B. Hayes was rightfully to be the President of the United
States.
This tribunal, and the wise patriotism of Mr. Tilden and his party,
saved the country from a bloody civil war.
XI
INCIDENTS CONCERNING MEMBERS OF THE
SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
THE Chief Justice of the United States is the highest legal officer in
this country.
The position has always been filled by men of great learning and of high
integrity, and, differ as we may concerning the wisdom and justice of
some Supreme Court decisions, yet we must believe the judges were
sincere and honest in their renditions.
When the country loses confidence in the integrity of this court, the
very foundation of our government will be in danger.
The first Chief Justice was John Jay, appointed September 26, 1789. He
soon resigned to accept the position of Envoy Extraordinary to England,
where, after the Revolutionary War, the adjustment of our affairs
demanded a person of great learning and skill. The country was fortunate
in having John Adams, John Jay, and, later, John Quincy Adams as its
representatives in this delicate and important service.
John Rutledge, of South Carolina, was a later appointment to the Chief
Justiceship, but the Senate refused to confirm the nomination. Then
William Cushing, of Massachusetts, one of the Associate Justices, was
nominated and confirmed, but declined to serve. Oliver Ellsworth, of
Connecticut, was then appointed, and was confirmed by the Senate March
4, 1796. He served till 1799, when he resigned to go as the Special
Envoy and the Minister to England.
John Jay was again nominated and confirmed by the Senate, but refused to
serve. John Marshall, of Virginia, was appointed Chief Justice by
President John Adams in 1801. He died in 1835. His term and that of
Chief Justice Taney cover over sixty important years in the history of
our government.
John Marshall had served on the personal staff of Washington in the
Revolutionary War, and had suffered the miseries and trials of the camp
at Valley Forge. At the time of his appointment he was Secretary of
State in Adams's Cabinet. He served in both capacities till the close of
Adams's administration.
The Supreme Court, when Marshall was called to preside over it, was held
in a low-vaulted room in the basement of the Capitol, and remained there
until the new wings were finished, about 1857. Mr. Ellis, in "Sights and
Secrets of Washington," tells this story of Marshall: "Upon one occasion
Marshall was standing in the market in Richmond, Va., with his basket
containing his purchases on his arm, when he was accosted by a
fashionable young gentleman who had just purchased a turkey. The young
man's foolish pride would not allow him to carry the fowl through the
streets, and, taking the Judge for a countryman, he asked him to carry
it home for him. The request was promptly granted, and when the young
man's home was reached he offered the supposed countryman a shilling for
his trouble. The money was courteously refused, and upon asking the name
of the person who had rendered him the service, the young man was not a
little astonished and chagrined to learn that his thanks were due to the
Chief Justice of the United States."
A bet was once made that the Judge could not dress himself without
exhibiting some mark of carelessness. He good-humoredly accepted the
challenge. A supper was to be given him upon these conditions: If his
dress was found to be faultlessly neat upon that occasion, the parties
offering the wager were to pay for the entertainment; but if they
detected any carelessness in his attire, the expense was to fall upon
him. Upon the appointed evening the guests and the Judge met at the
place agreed upon, and, to the surprise of all, the Judge's dress seemed
faultless. The supper followed, Judge Marshall being in high spirits
over his victory. Near the close of the repast, however, one of the
guests who sat near him chanced to drop his napkin, and, stooping down
to pick it up, discovered that the Judge had put on one of his stockings
with the wrong side out. Of course the condition of affairs was
immediately changed, and amidst the uproarious laughter of his
companions the Chief Justice acknowledged his defeat.
Mr. Ellis also says: "The following incident in his (Marshall's) life is
said to have occurred at McGuire's hotel, in Winchester, Virginia:
"It is not long since a gentleman was traveling in one of the counties
of Virginia, and about the close of the day stopped at a public house to
obtain refreshment and spend the night. He had been there but a short
time before an old man alighted from his gig, with the apparent
intention of becoming his fellow guest at the same house. As the old man
drove up he observed that both of the shafts of the gig were broken, and
that they were held together by withes formed from the bark of a hickory
sapling. Our traveler observed further that he was plainly clad, that
his knee-buckles were loosened, and that something like negligence
pervaded his dress. Conceiving him to be one of the honest yeomanry of
our land, the courtesies of strangers passed between them, and they
entered the tavern. It was about the same time that an addition of three
or four young gentlemen was made to their number—most, if not all of
them, of the legal profession. As soon as they became conveniently
accommodated, the conversation was turned by the latter upon an eloquent
harangue which had that day been displayed at the bar. It was replied by
the other that he had witnessed, the same day, a degree of eloquence no
doubt equal, but it was from the pulpit. Something like a sarcastic
rejoinder was made as to the eloquence of the pulpit, and a warm
altercation ensued, in which the merits of the Christian religion became
the subject of discussion. From six o'clock until eleven the young
champions wielded the sword of argument, adducing with ingenuity and
ability everything that could be said, _pro_ and _con_. During this
protracted period the old gentleman listened with the meekness and
modesty of a child—as if he were adding new information to the stores of
his own mind, or perhaps he was observing, with philosophic eye, the
faculties of the youthful mind and how new energies are evolved by
repeated action; or, perhaps, with patriotic emotion, he was reflecting
upon the future destinies of his country, and on the rising generation,
upon whom these future destinies must devolve; or, most probably, with a
sentiment of moral and religious feeling, he was collecting an argument
which, characteristic of himself, no art would 'be able to elude, and no
force to resist.' Our traveler remained a spectator, and took no part in
what was said.
"At last one of the young men, remarking that it was impossible to
combat with long and established prejudices, wheeled around, and, with
some familiarity, exclaimed, "Well, my old gentleman, what do you think
of these things?" If, said the traveler, a streak of vivid lightning had
at the moment crossed the room, their amazement could not have been
greater than it was with what followed. The most eloquent and
unanswerable appeal that he ever heard or read was made for nearly an
hour by the old gentleman. So perfect was his recollection that every
argument urged against the Christian religion was met in the order in
which it was advanced. Hume's sophistry on the subject of miracles was,
if possible, more perfectly answered than it had already been done by
Campbell. And in the whole lecture there was so much simplicity and
energy, pathos and sublimity, that not another word was uttered. An
attempt to describe it, said the traveler, would be an attempt to paint
the sunbeams. It was now a matter of curiosity and inquiry who the old
gentleman was. The traveler concluded it was a preacher from whom the
pulpit eloquence was heard. But no; it was the Chief Justice of the
United States."
Judge Marshall was followed by Roger Brooke Taney, of Maryland. He was
nominated by President Jackson, and confirmed by the Senate in 1836. He
died October 12, 1864. His decision in the Dred Scott fugitive case may
be ranked as one of the factors which brought about the Civil War. The
case was substantially this: A negro slave, with a wife and two
children, sued his master for freedom under the plea that, having been
taken North into free States a number of times, they were therefore
entitled to freedom. The decision covers many pages, but the nation
summed it up in these words: "The black man possesses no rights which
the white man is bound to respect." Since Moses established a judiciary
no decision ever made such a disturbance. In the memory of most people
Taney's singularly pure life goes for nothing beside the infamy of this
decision. It outraged the conscience of mankind. Taney claimed that he
did not make the law, he simply gave its interpretation. The decision
was approved by the majority of the court, but he alone was made to
suffer the obloquy which followed.
This decision proved sufficient to bring down the wrath of a just God on
a nation so lost to human justice. The South suffered for the sin of
slavery, the North for conniving thereto.
Judge Taney sleeps at Frederick, Md. (where most of his private life had
passed), beside his wife, who was sister to Francis Scott Key, author of
"The Star-Spangled Banner."
In the summer of 1888 I heard Dr. Wardell, at Ocean Grove, N. J., tell
this incident concerning Salmon P. Chase, who was appointed Chief
Justice by President Lincoln in 1864, and who died in 1873. Dr. Wardell
claimed to have the story direct from Dr. Newman, then pastor of the
Metropolitan Methodist Church, Washington, D. C.
He said that Chief Justice Chase was in the habit of attending the
Metropolitan Church, on Four and One-half Street, Washington, and Dr.
Newman (afterward Bishop) noticed that while the Chief Justice was a
member of the official Board, and attended faithfully to its duties, yet
he always left the church when the sacrament of the Lord's Supper was
administered.
After one such occasion Dr. Newman went to him and said: "Why do you not
avail yourself of the means of grace in the Lord's Supper?"
The Chief Justice answered: "I do not consider myself worthy to partake
of the communion."
The Doctor said: "We invite all who love the Lord, and who do truly and
heartily repent of their sins, to join with us in this service."
"Yes, that is just it. What do you mean by 'repent'?"
Then the Doctor gave him a full and clear explanation of repentance.
On the next communion day instead of leaving the church the Chief
Justice remained in his seat. After all had communed, Dr. Newman said:
"If any soul feels its unfitness for this service, to him this
invitation is specially given. If such a one fails to acknowledge the
Savior and his own unworthiness before his fellowmen, we are assured
that the Savior will not acknowledge him before his Father and His holy
angels."
The Chief Justice rose, and staggered, rather than walked, to the front,
and fell on his knees at the altar railing. After giving to the kneeling
man the bread and wine, the Doctor, seeing the strong face of the
penitent drawn with grief, with the Justice still kneeling, pronounced
the benediction and dismissed the congregation.
The next day, in the robing-room of the justices, Chief Justice Chase
said to Justice Miller: "Oh, I want to tell you to-day what the Lord has
done for my soul! He came very near me yesterday."
Justice Miller replied: "Well, we will talk of that some other time; now
we have the wages of sin and not righteousness before us."
After court adjourned that afternoon, the Chief Justice went down to
Alexandria to see an old servant who had sent for him. He said to her:
"Oh, Auntie, I received a great blessing yesterday; all life is
different. I want to have a closer walk with God."
Within a few days he went to New York to transact some business. The
morning after his arrival he did not come down to breakfast. The clerk
waited till eleven o'clock, and receiving no answer to his frequent
knocks, the door was forced, and there was found the dead body of the
Chief Justice. He had entered on his closer walk with God.
It was well known throughout the country that Lincoln was not in harmony
with Chase, even when the latter was Secretary of the Treasury, but
Carpenter, in his "Six Months in the White House," says:
"Notwithstanding his apparent hesitation in the appointment of a
successor to Judge Taney, it is well known to his intimate friends that
there had never been a time during his Presidency, when in the event of
the death of Judge Taney, Mr. Lincoln had not fully intended and
expected to nominate Salmon P. Chase for Chief Justice."
The appointment must have come to Chase with a little of the effects of
"coals of fire," for he had not been very loyal to Lincoln. He had the
Presidential bee in his own bonnet.