SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF ULYSSES S. GRANT
_March 4, 1873, to March 4, 1877_
Washington was in the throes of the coldest weather ever known at an
inauguration when Ulysses S. Grant was inducted into office March 4,
1873, for the second time. The morning dawned bitterly cold, with a
fierce wind blowing and the thermometer registering 4 degrees above
zero, and little change during the day. Marching was difficult, and
standing still was next to impossible. Flags and decorations were
ripped from their moorings; the music was a failure, as the breath of
the musicians condensed in the valves of their instruments, making it
impossible for them to play. Many marchers and onlookers were overcome
by the cold. The ambulances were kept busy caring for the cadets and
the soldiers, some of whom were carried from the line insensible. Even
the hardiest and most fur-bundled of visitors deserted the open stands
and abandoned the seats for which such high prices had been paid.
The procession, headed by members of the regular army, followed by the
Annapolis midshipmen and West Point cadets, included a number of civic
and military organizations. There was none that did not suffer somewhat
from the arctic atmosphere.
President Grant braved the cold in his own open barouche, accompanied
by a portion of the Committee of the Senate, Senators John A. Logan of
Illinois, Aaron H. Cragin of Vermont, and Thomas F. Bayard of Delaware.
Vice President elect Henry Wilson followed in the next carriage, after
which came the President’s family.
During the ceremony, the President occupied the famous chair used by
General Washington at his first inauguration, which had been sent on
from New York City for the occasion by Mrs. William C. H. Woddell, the
owner.
Chief Justice Chase officiated for the last time, and after taking the
oath, President Grant delivered his inaugural address, in spite of a
continuous struggle with the wind.
The return to the White House was made with all possible speed, and the
following review of the procession was much curtailed by reason of the
discomfort and suffering imposed by the intense cold.
Although there was no moderation in the weather conditions, the peak
of the general desire was to attend the ball. For months the inaugural
committee had devoted elaborate plans and lavish expense to the
problem of providing quarters for the gigantic ball that they were
assured would far surpass all previous affairs in the attendance. No
building or hotel being sufficiently commodious to house the expected
multitude, it was decided to put up a temporary building in the centre
of Judiciary Square, which should be the perfection of art, skill, and
comfort, designed to meet the needs of the largest throng that had
ever descended upon Washington. The principal room was three hundred
feet long by one hundred fifty feet wide, with walls twenty-five feet
high, and was spanned with thirty-one arched girders. The floor was
built to rest upon the foundation and be independent of the walls, so
that vibration could not disturb their strength. All anterooms were
correspondingly spacious.
A huge American eagle with outspread wings was suspended from the
highest point in the centre of the hall. In his talons he held the
shield of the United States and streamers of the national colours one
hundred feet long, radiating to every part of the hall and terminating
at the arches with coats of arms of the states.
The walls, ceilings, arches, and columns were lined and covered with
white muslin or cambric, then trimmed with flags, shields, bunting,
rosettes of the national colours, and evergreens. The profuse use of
white cotton over the rough boards gave it the name of “The Muslin
Palace.”
The President’s reception stage or platform was commodious and a
marvel of artistic decoration and luxurious furnishings. Several
hundred canaries had been purchased and arranged in such numbers as to
make their singing a notable and unique factor of the welcome to the
President and his party.
Gas was the accepted medium of illumination at that time, and in the
piping and arrangement for lighting, the committee was consistently
lavish. A great sunburst of lights in the form of a rising sun sent out
its rays backed by reflectors from above the presidential stage. Rows
of chandeliers extending the length of the ballroom were provided with
reflectors. Great standards holding clusters of burners for additional
lights were placed at regular intervals of space. Twenty-five hundred
burners were installed to give the desired brilliance to the scene.
The attractive dining hall occupied the full length of the building and
adjoined the ballroom, to which there were twenty arched entrances. The
table was extended the entire length, with sideboards along the wall to
supply dishes of all kinds.
Five smaller buildings adjoined for use as pantries, each being devoted
to the supplies and provisions for one part of the supper; for
instance, one for coffee, tea, and liquids, another for dessert.
With all of the elaborate attention to every detail and the
expenditure of sixty thousand dollars to make this event surpass all
previous affairs and meet every possible demand in the emergency of
unprecedented numbers, there was no provision made for any undue
weather emergency, and what heating facilities had been installed
were wholly inadequate, and the ball was a frosty horror. People came
bundled to the eyes in furs and wraps, and danced in their overcoats
and furs to keep warm.
The arrival of the presidential party was announced by the Marine Band
with “Hail to the Chief.”
The platform, like the remainder of the great hall, was so cold that
the ladies kept their ball dresses covered with their wraps. The
reception moved along rapidly, in consequence. The excellent hot supper
served to them was most welcome.
Mrs. Grant’s gown, of white satin, was covered entirely by flounces
of black Brussels lace and trimmed with lavender. Miss Nellie Grant,
the White House belle, who stood by her mother, was much observed in
her girlish dress of white illusion over white silk. White flowers
furnished the garniture for dress and hair. The gowns of the ladies of
the Cabinet were all notable for their elegance and beauty, and while
the records of details are meagre, some of the publications of the
day did carry enough description to give at least an idea of colours
selected, for one account tells that:
“Miss Fish wore a rich pearl-coloured silk, with flounces of point
lace, an ermine cape and diamonds; Mrs. Boutwell cameo-tinted silk;
Miss Boutwell, light blue silk; Mrs. Cresswell, white silk and black
velvet; Mrs. Williams, pearl-coloured satin with cherry trimmings
with a bandeau of gold and diamonds in her hair; Mrs. Delano, a
pompadour dress of blue and pink; Mrs. Cooke, wife of the District
Governor, emerald satin and velvet.”
Contrary to plans, the canaries did not sing. Not a bird vouchsafed a
single chirp. Instead, paralyzed with cold, they huddled in little,
shivering yellow balls, with their heads tucked under their wings to
try to keep from freezing--the fate that befell most of them.
The champagne and ice creams were frozen solid. No one wanted them, but
the hot drinks were in demand. The presidential party remained only
a short time, and the entire assemblage, after paying twenty dollars
apiece for tickets, deserted the “Muslin Palace” before midnight--long
before the ball would have been in full swing under comfortable
conditions.
With the inaugural ceremonies over, the President had once more to
concentrate his attention on his official duties. Vacancies had to
be filled. One of the most important was that on the Supreme Court,
following the death of Chief Justice Chase on May 7, 1873. Political
preference was slinging sledge-hammer blows to and for those whose
names were presented.
The passing of Salmon P. Chase marked the close of the public life of
one of the best known jurists of the United States. Mr. Chase entered
politics about 1841 as an opponent of the extension of slavery, was
one of the founders of the Free Soil Party, elected to the Senate
in 1849, was twice Governor of Ohio, and served as Secretary of the
Treasury in President Lincoln’s Cabinet. He became Chief Justice of the
United States in 1864, and in this capacity presided at the impeachment
trial of President Johnson. His life’s ambition was thwarted with
the election of General Grant to the Presidency; and with his death,
adverse fate seemed to descend upon the head of his idolized daughter,
Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague, who, from the time she was sixteen, had
presided over her father’s home and until his death enjoyed a social
leadership of remarkable popularity. As the wife of the handsome,
wealthy war Governor of Rhode Island, who was later in the Senate, her
position was one of marked prestige and influence.
Following her father’s death, sorrow and disappointment brought about
an open rupture with her husband that terminated in divorce. He later
married again, but she devoted herself to the upbringing of her
children and died in Washington, broken-hearted and disillusioned.
The President was soon confronted with the distressing features of
the Crédit Mobilier scandal, murmurs of which had already sent his
former Vice President out of office, humiliated and discredited,
and the breaking of this gigantic scandal was the advance guard of
panic, aggravated later by the Whisky Frauds and the fall of “Boss
Tweed.” Although in no way connected, implicated, or responsible for
these scandals, they robbed General Grant’s second administration of
any glory of achievement by the distressing spectacle of corruption,
thievery, and graft disclosed on the part of trusted and honoured
government officials.
Like the slowly gathering force of a distant storm, whose thunderings
and rumblings warn of the coming fury, so the murmurs, whispers, and
threats of retribution, judgment, and disgrace were heard from time
to time from the beginning of President Grant’s first term until the
close of his second, when certain startling disclosures discredited
men high in the counsels of the mighty. It is doubtful if anything in
American history will ever create a parallel to the Crédit Mobilier
as a vehicle for the display of human passions and emotions from the
comic to the tragic. All previous scandals and sensations sank into
oblivion beside it. So thoroughly did the proportions of this swindle
of the government overwhelm the public mind by the audacity of those
implicated that ruin threatened every career involved.
Back in 1862, the march of progress demanded better facilities for
transportation across the plains, mountain ridges, and forests of
the vast land beyond the Mississippi River than were afforded by the
prairie-schooner caravans. In order that the great gaps of distance
should be bridged in shorter time and by easier, safer means, the
government authorized the construction of a Pacific railroad, a logical
move, since the railroads were stretching their network of ties and
tracks and switches in many directions. This Pacific railroad, built
by 1869, at a terrific cost in money and with a prodigious amount of
trickery, reached from Omaha, Nebraska, to Ogden, Utah, a distance of
1,029 miles, where the Central Pacific terminated its stretch of 878
miles from San Francisco. Thus it was made possible to come by train
from San Francisco to New York, a distance of 3,322 miles. By the time
ten years had elapsed after its inception, its directing and promoting
agents were before the great court of public opinion, branded for
crimes, with marks more loathsome than that of Cain, as a result of the
disclosures brought forth in the investigations conducted in the two
Houses of Congress.
In consequence, the Crédit Mobilier held the centre of the stage;
nothing else was discussed; argument and debate were at white heat;
and every man who feared implication lived upon the rack in a torture
of suspense. Two members of the House, Oakes Ames, of Massachusetts,
and James Brooks, were slated for expulsion, while the same sentence
threatened Senator James W. Patterson. But Congress became too
demoralized and too apprehensive as to where the accusing finger would
tag another victim to take any more decisive action than censure. Ames
and Brooks, weary, ill, and shaken by the efforts to make of them the
scapegoats, died in the opening days of the new administration, within
two months of the investigation. James Brooks, who had been a trusted
government director of the Union Pacific, died April 30, 1873; while
the bluff, free-handed manufacturer, Ames, followed him a few days
later, on May 8, 1873.
Ben Perley Poore explains the Crédit Mobilier in part as follows:
“The Crédit Mobilier made a great deal of talk, although comparatively
few people knew what it was about. Under various acts of Congress
granting aid to the Union Pacific Railroad, that corporation was to
receive 12,800 acres of land per mile, or about 12,000,000 acres
in all, and government 6 per cent. bonds for the amount of $12,000
per mile for one portion of the road; $32,000 per mile for another
portion; and $48,000 per mile for another. In addition to these
subsidies, the company was authorized to issue its own first-mortgage
bonds to an amount equal to the government bonds and to organize a
capital stock not to exceed one hundred million dollars. All of this
constituted a magnificent fund, and it soon became evident that the
road could be built for at least twenty million dollars less than the
resources claimed. The honest way would have been to build the road
as economically as possible and give the government the benefit of
the saving. Instead, the directors concocted a scheme whereby they
could command the whole amount, and after building the road, divide
the surplus. They decided to become contractors and hire themselves to
build the road.
“To complete their fraud successfully, without exciting public
attention, and to cover their tracks, was a complicated matter. They
secured several attorneys skilled in the intricacies of railroad
fraud, and with falsified statements and some advice, the machinery
of the transaction was arranged satisfactorily. Samuel J. Tilden was
their attorney. In order to avoid personal liability and give the
movement the appearance of legality, the directors purchased the
charter of the Pennsylvania Fiscal Agency and changed its name to the
Crédit Mobilier of America. This was in 1864, and at this time two
million dollars’ worth of stock had been subscribed to the railroad
company and two hundred eighteen dollars paid in. Samuel J. Tilden
had personally subscribed twenty thousand dollars. The first thing
the Crédit Mobilier did was to buy in all of this stock and to bring
the Railroad Company and the Crédit Mobilier under one management and
the same set of officers. Then the directors of the Railroad Company,
through certain middlemen, awarded the contract for building the
road to the Crédit Mobilier; in other words, to themselves, for from
twenty thousand to thirty thousand dollars per mile more than it was
worth. Evidence which afterwards came to light in the Congressional
investigations showed that the Crédit Mobilier made a cash profit in
the transaction of over thirty-three million dollars, besides grabbing
up the stock of the road at thirty cents on the dollar, when the law
plainly provided that it should not be issued at less than par.
“Oakes Ames, the Massachusetts mechanic, who had made a fortune in
the manufacture of shovels, had embarked in the construction of the
Pacific railroad. Finding legislation necessary, and knowing how
difficult it was to secure the attention of Congressmen to schemes
that did not benefit them or their constituents, he distributed the
shares of this Crédit Mobilier, as he expressed it, where it would do
the most good.’”
Ames being a member of Congress and a manager of the scheme was
peculiarly appreciative of the value of Congressional assistance
in behalf of the Crédit Mobilier. It looked as though its purpose
was to drain money from the Central Pacific railroad and from the
government as long as possible. Any legislation on the part of Congress
designed to protect the interest of the government would naturally
be unfavourable to the Crédit Mobilier, and it was the aim of the
corporation to prevent any such legislation. The price agreed upon for
building the road was so exorbitant and afforded such wicked profit to
the Crédit Mobilier that it was almost certain some honest friend of
the people would demand that Congress should protect the Treasury from
such robbery. Accordingly, it was determined to interest in the scheme
enough members of Congress to prevent any protection of the National
Treasury at the expense of the unlawful gains of the Crédit Mobilier.
Oakes Ames, being in Congress, undertook to secure the desired hold
upon his associates. The plan was to secure them by bribing them, and
for this purpose a certain portion of the Crédit Mobilier stock was
placed in the hands of Mr. Ames, as trustee, to be used by him as he
thought best for the best interests of the company. Mr. Ames went to
Washington, December, 1867, for the opening of the session of Congress.
Within a month, he entered into contracts with a considerable number
of members of Congress of both Houses to let them have shares of stock
in the Crédit Mobilier Company at par, with interest thereon from the
first day of the previous July.
Ames was not the only member of the Company engaged in placing stock
where it would benefit the corporation. Doctor Durant, President of
the Pacific Railway, was engaged in securing his friends in the same
way, and he received a portion of the stock to be used in this manner.
Mr. Henry S. M’Comb of Delaware was also interested in a scheme to
put in his claim for a part of the stock which was being used as a
corruption fund for his friends. The claim involved him in a quarrel
with Ames, and the stock he claimed was assigned to Ames. In 1872,
the quarrel reached such a pitch that M’Comb made the facts public
and published a list of the Congressmen with whom Ames had said he
had placed his stock, giving the number of shares sold to each. This
list included Schuyler Colfax, Vice President of the United States;
Henry Wilson, Senator from Massachusetts; James W. Patterson, Senator
from New Hampshire; John A. Logan, Senator from Illinois; James G.
Blaine, Member of the House from Maine, and Speaker; W. D. Kelly of
Pennsylvania; James A. Garfield of Ohio; James Brooks of New York; John
A. Bingham of Ohio; Henry L. Dawes of Massachusetts; and others who
were not in Congress at the time of the exposé. A storm of excitement
was created over the country at the prominence of the names. As a rule,
all implicated denied emphatically having ever owned or purchased
Crédit Mobilier stock. They declared themselves incapable of holding
the stock, saying that it would be a crime against morality and decency
to be connected in any way with the Crédit Mobilier. It was a mistake
on the part of Congressmen to deny their connection with the Crédit
Mobilier. Frank acknowledgment of purchase and the statement that they
had relinquished it as soon as its true character was known would have
saved their faces before the world. They would have escaped with being
regarded as silly, but the denials caused Ames to announce that the
charges were true, and that he could and would prove them so. And he
did.
When Congress assembled in December, 1872, Blaine, the Speaker,
wishing to vindicate himself, claiming his character had been unjustly
assailed, asked the House to appoint a committee to investigate the
charges brought by Ames and M’Comb and bring in a report of their
findings. Mr. Poland, of Vermont, was made Chairman. Efforts to keep
the investigation secret failed, as the indignant public demanded and
obtained an open trial.
The committee’s report to the House failed to sustain the denials of
members as to ownership of stock, although it acquitted all but one
of the charge of having been bribed. It fastened the ownership upon
all but Mr. Blaine, and showed them all as convicted of falsehood. In
several cases, their denial was met by the production of their checks,
as was true in the case of Colfax. Blaine denied it, and the committee
report sustained his denial.
The deaths of Ames and Brooks and all of the distressing aftermath
of the Crédit Mobilier exposé left a most depressing effect upon
the public mind. But the dissatisfaction arising from the lack of
Congressional action was increased as the same Congress passed a law
raising salaries of members from $5,000 to $7,500, and that of the
President from $25,000 to $50,000, making the act operative at once.
All of these acts, whether justifiable or not, tended to create a
lack of confidence and faith in the government which culminated in
the business panic of the winter of 1873, with the passage of the new
Coinage Act. For many years, paper money, “greenbacks,” had been the
only kind in use. Silver dollars rarely were seen, and the small silver
quarters and dimes were used only as “change.”
[Illustration: _Photo. by G. V. Buck, Washington, D. C._
THE DAUGHTER OF PRESIDENT AND MRS. GRANT
Nellie Grant Sartoris, who was a White House Bride]
When the Nevada silver mines were discovered, the price of this metal
dropped as the metal became plentiful, and in some countries of Europe
the coinage of silver money was abandoned. This policy was planned for
the United States, and it was advocated in Congress that only gold and
silver change and copper be minted for general use. The idea did not
become popular. Many people became suspicious, believing it to have
been instigated by wealthy bondholders who were resolved to have their
bonds paid in gold. When the government issued bonds to secure money
for the expenses of the Civil War, it borrowed millions of dollars from
individuals and from banks. These bonds were to be repaid with interest
at the expiration of a specific period. People of all classes and
circumstances purchased these bonds gladly and freely, and at the time
of the negotiation of these loans, the understanding was current that
the payment would be in gold.
The demand for railroad construction became so insistent that more
railroads were built than the needs of the country required. In some
parts of the country, railroads were built that did not pay interest
on the expense of their construction. Between 1871 and the close of
1873, twenty thousand miles of railway were built, spreading into five
transcontinental lines. This vast project cost more than a thousand
million dollars. Hundreds of people invested their savings in this
project, hoping for quick profits and sudden accession of wealth.
This railway construction caused the failure of the Philadelphia
banking firm of Jay Cooke & Co., that had invested largely in the
Northern Pacific road. The failure of this stable concern precipitated
the panic of 1873, which paralyzed business for several years and
hung over the country a cloud of gloom and distrust. In the space of
a few weeks, thousands of business men and many hundreds of firms
were ruined. Money became so hard to get that the government found
it necessary to discontinue the construction of public buildings in
Washington, and also to defer payments on the war debt for a time. The
effects of this panic extended over a period of five years.
The life at the White House was not overcast by the financial
depression abroad in the land. Never was the old mansion more gay.
From attic to basement, it buzzed with activity and excitement in
the arrangements for a wedding in the family. A trousseau was under
preparation, and the upper floors were constantly filled with happy
girls. The White House belle was to be married!
Nellie Grant was only a little girl when her father became President.
Owing to his strong objections to his family being the object of
curious interest, little was known of this White House maiden until
she had completed her education. During her school days, her mother
was exceedingly strict and required that she be put through exactly
the same discipline as girls whose fathers did not hold such important
positions. With the conclusion of her school work, she was sent abroad
for an extended tour, receiving throughout Europe the honours and
attentions of a princess.
Eleanor--or Nellie--Grant was of medium height, beautifully
proportioned, with masses of rich brown hair, soft brown eyes,
and a creamy complexion of rich colour. Her face was exceedingly
attractive, with an expression of amiability that showed her to be
an even, sweet-tempered girl. Although quiet and demure, she was a
good dancer and was perfectly at ease in any company. On her return
from Europe, she met on the steamer Algernon Frederick Sartoris, with
whom she fell in love. The consequence was that she had no great
belle-ship in Washington, since, even before her début, which her
mother decreed should be at a formal reception rather than at a ball,
it was known that her heart was given to the young Englishman, who was
twenty-three years old, of excellent family, and who had inherited
a very substantial income. From the moment of their meeting, their
romance developed. But, owing to her youth, her parents would not hear
of her immediate marriage, her father insisting that she wait until
two months before she was nineteen. At that time, on May 21, 1874, her
marriage to Mr. Sartoris occurred in the White House.
Elaborate preparations were made for this wedding, which was the most
brilliant affair known for many years in the Capital City.
The East Room was a tribute to the florists’ art. Expense was not
reckoned in the quantities of beautiful flowers brought from Florida.
The masses of tuberoses, spiræa, lilies of the valley, and other
fragrant blossoms, gave forth a perfume almost oppressive. A dais was
erected in front of the east window. This was covered by the exquisite
rug presented to the White House by the Sultan of Turkey and canopied
with ferns and vines surmounted by a marriage bell of white blossoms.
All interest focussed in the wedding gown. It was of rich white satin
elaborately trimmed with point lace that alone was estimated to have
cost two thousand dollars. The groom wore the regulation English
wedding dress and introduced a new note in wedding fashions for men
by carrying a bouquet of orange blossoms and tuberoses with a centre
of pink buds from whose midst rose a flag-staff with a silver banner
inscribed with the word “Love.”
The bridesmaids, eight in number, wore dresses of white corded silk
covered with white illusion, with sashes of the same material arranged
in loops from the waist downward. Four carried large bouquets of pink
flowers, while the other four carried blue. The approach of the bridal
party through the East Room was heralded by the Marine Band. First came
Mr. Sartoris, with Colonel Frederick Dent Grant his only groomsman, and
then the bridesmaids, two by two. Following them came the President
with Miss Nellie, and then Mrs. Grant with her younger sons, Ulysses
and Jesse. The ceremony was performed by Dr. O. H. Tiffany of the
Metropolitan Methodist Church. The menus for the wedding banquet were
printed on white satin, and each guest took home a box of wedding cake.
Sartoris was the grandson of Charles Kemble, the actor, and a nephew of
Fannie Kemble, the celebrated actress. The young couple were married
in the presence of two hundred guests, including the Cabinet families
and the high officers of the Army and Navy and Diplomatic Corps, all in
their brilliant uniforms. President Grant was deeply disappointed that
his daughter married a foreigner, and he noted her departure with a
sense of real grief.
A few months later, Colonel Frederick D. Grant brought a bride to the
White House, Miss Ida Marie Honoré, of Chicago, to whom he was married
on October 28, 1874. Miss Honoré was of a Parisian family which had
been most conspicuous in the social and financial affairs of Chicago.
Young Mrs. Grant was a distinct addition to the social life of the
White House, and in the summer of 1876, a little girl was born under
the historic roof of the mansion. Little Julia Grant arrived to spend
the last year of her celebrated grandfather’s régime with him, and
to help with her dimples and her baby smiles to lift the loneliness
he felt at the loss of his own beloved daughter. Julia Grant, named
for her grandmother, in later years followed the example of her aunt
Nellie and gave her hand to a distinguished foreigner, a Russian
prince, sharing with him all the brilliance and luxury of life at the
Court of the late Tsar, and likewise sharing his flight and exile as
refugee when the Russian monarchy fell. Inheriting her grandfather’s
gift for expressing himself vividly with his pen, Princess Julia Grant
Cantacuzene-Speransky joined the group of American women authors after
her return to her homeland and her reunion with her three children who
had been sent to America to her mother, Mrs. Frederick Dent Grant, at
the very beginning of the European conflict.
General Adam Badeau, Military Aide-de-Camp to General Grant, who spent
much time at the White House, has given publication to a letter that
presents a charming picture of the Grant family life:
“General Grant’s daughter and her husband had spent a day or two at my
house in the suburbs of London, and the visit had been so pleasant to
me that I wrote an account of it for the General and Mrs. Grant, which
I knew would please them. In reply, the General wrote, out of the
fullness of a father’s heart, the glowing account of his children that
follows. Nothing could exceed the admiration as well as affection with
which he regarded his sons and his daughter, and the interest he took
in whatever concerned them. The parental feeling was as strong in him
as in any man I have ever known.
“Executive Mansion,
Washington, D. C., October 25, 1874.
“MY DEAR GENERAL:
“Your letter stating that Mr. Sartoris and Nellie had been at your
house in London was received while Mrs. Grant and I were in Chicago
attending the wedding of Fred to Miss Honoré. Fred’s wife is beautiful
and is spoken of by all her acquaintances, male and female, young and
old, as being quite as charming for her manners, amiability, good
sense, and education, as she is for her beauty. Mrs. Grant and I were
charmed with the young lady and her family--father and mother, sister
and four brothers. We expect them to spend the winter with us and as
Mr. Sartoris and Nellie will be here in January, we will have I hope
quite a gay household. Buck is in a law office in New York City, and
is a student at the same time in Columbia Law School. Jesse entered
Cornell University without a condition, although he has never attended
school but three years, then in an infant class. My boys are all
growing up. Fred with no surplus weight, weighs 193 lbs., and Buck
who is a spare looking young man, weighs 160 lbs., twenty pounds more
than I weighed at forty years of age. As my children are all leaving
me it is gratifying to know that, so far, they give good promise. They
are all of good habits and are very popular with their acquaintances
and associates. We have had--Mrs. Grant has--a letter from Nellie
this morning. But as I was busy, I have neither read it nor heard its
contents; therefore do not know whether it was written before or after
her visit to London.
“Although remiss in writing, I am always glad to hear from you and
take as warm an interest in your welfare as though I wrote frequently.
“Yours truly,
“U. S. GRANT.
“GENERAL A. BADEAU.”
Among all the brilliant assemblages which have gathered in the Rotunda
of the National Capitol throughout its history, it is doubtful if any
were more brilliant than filled that place on the evening of December
16, 1874, when the Centennial Tea Party was held there to raise funds
for the Centennial Exposition to be held in Philadelphia two years
later. The _Star_ of December 17, 1874, says:
“There was but one fault to be found with the Tea Party last night,
and that was that it was too much of a success. The crowd was so
great from the beginning to the end of the evening that it was almost
impossible to see the tables or approach them for refreshments. The
effect of the decorations and the toilettes was not as marked as
they would have been in a more open space. The ladies who undertook
the stupendous work of organizing and carrying out such wonderful
entertainment had certainly shown great executive ability. They have
proved that they are well versed in the history of their country,
and the glory which belonged to the thirteen original states. Each
table and each lady’s dress was in perfect keeping with the period
represented. The parted hair, and faces with black patches, coquettish
caps, prudish handkerchiefs, and dainty aprons were becoming to all.
The old Hall of Representatives was wrapped in a dim religious light,
which added to the scenic effect of the marble columns and statues.
The Marine Band, in uniform, with their music stands, each of which
had a candle, made the darkness more visible and supplemented the
effect. There was a rostrum from which General Hawley, and afterwards
Secretary Robeson, addressed the vast throng. It was impossible to
hear the addresses for thousands of people were surging and milling in
search of fresh novelties and without any desire to use more than one
faculty--sight. No other place in the city but the Capitol could have
accommodated the multitude. The Tea Party will be repeated to-night.”
In the opening weeks of 1875, the Treasury Department received
information which brought forth an exposure of frauds almost as
startling as had been the revelations of the Crédit Mobilier. The
case trailed its ugly shadow across the President’s path. This was
the Whisky Ring, a fully organized project to defraud the government,
which, like that of the railroad graft, had been long flourishing.
Possessed of unlimited resources, the Whisky Ring had been able to keep
its transactions under cover, since it could engage the most expert of
counsel and the most graceless of witnesses to protect its interests.
The Whisky Ring really formed in St. Louis in 1872, and in two years
assumed national proportions. Through a coalition of distillers and
revenue collectors, the government was defrauded of the internal
revenue tax on distilled liquors. The investigators produced evidence
that resulted in the indictment of 238 persons showing that the
government had been defrauded in the brief space of ten months of
$1,650,000.
Although the Whisky Ring had in some way evaded prosecution by the
secretaries of the Treasury who preceded Secretary Bristow, this
gentleman had a clear case against them before they were aware of his
intentions. The task had not been easy, as the distillers guarded
their movements with great care and saw to it that some of the highest
officers in government service were in their pay, and therefore kept
the leaders of the Ring forewarned as to possible investigation, so
that they might have all matters ready for examination.
The tax levied by Congress was 50 cents per gallon. The distillers paid
the collectors 30 cents; they in turn fixed their returns, giving to
the government the smallest possible amount and dividing the balance
among themselves.
Secretary Bristow laboured diligently to break up this Ring, and great
secrecy was imposed, even to the point of using a new cipher. The
cleverest surveillance was exercised, and when information was in hand,
distilleries were seized in St. Louis, Milwaukee, Indiana, and New
Orleans, and men of highest social position were indicted. The trials
were quiet and decisive. Many of those implicated were sent to the
penitentiary; others fined. Interest was centred in St. Louis because
it seemed to be the heart of the conspiracy. Against all persons, the
evidence was sufficiently conclusive to bring a conviction, save in the
case of O. E. Babcock, the private secretary to the President. While
strong charges were made that he shared in the profits of the Ring,
conclusive proof strong enough for conviction was lacking. It was also
charged that he furnished information, but while his innocence was not
established, neither was his guilt confirmed, and he was acquitted
owing to the influence of the President, who resented his implication
very strongly. He always believed implicitly in the men he selected
for his confidence and service. He felt the same sense of indignation
and personal resentment when it was proved that his Secretary of War,
W. W. Belknap, shared in the profits of a sutler’s shop on an Indian
reservation. Belknap would undoubtedly have been impeached but for
submitting his resignation, which was accepted by the President with
great regret.
Secretary Belknap’s weakness and fall have often been laid to the door
of a young, attractive, and socially ambitious wife, whose love of
jewels and pretty clothes made her demands exceed her husband’s income.
Because of his pride in her and the desire to gratify her in her
vanity, he was led into a step that destroyed all the splendid record
of a lifetime.
William Worth Belknap came from an old and prominent family. His career
in the Civil War had been conspicuous for his gallantry in action.
From the post as Internal Revenue Collector in Iowa, he was called to
the Cabinet. This new honour inspired a natural desire to look after
old friends. This attitude was shared by his first wife, and led to
difficulties.
Many stories have ascribed various reasons for the disgrace of this
previously splendid man. According to some accounts, the jealousy of a
woman acquaintance of Mrs. Belknap started the rumours and charges that
led to the investigation of the private transactions of the Secretary
of War. Owing to the fact that the charges made were proved, the nation
was served with another scandal of most distressing type.
The disclosures made by the lady seeking to destroy the prestige of the
Belknaps caused it to be known that the first Mrs. Belknap persuaded
her husband to appoint Caleb Marsh, husband of a friend of hers, post
trader on the Indian Reservation at Fort Sill. Marsh secured the
appointment and then made an agreement with the incumbent, who was
preparing to bring political influence to keep the place, but who
knew he could not compete with the appointee of the Secretary of War,
allowing him to remain as long as $12,000 of the annual profits were
paid over to him in quarterly instalments. This money was divided with
the Secretary of War for two years, the payments being sent to Mrs.
Belknap. Later, when it seemed advisable to reduce this annual bonus to
$6,000, this sum was likewise so divided.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Belknap died, and after the lapse of the proper period
of mourning, the handsome widower with a young child to care for
sought another wife, selecting the younger sister of his late wife,
Mrs. Bowers, of Harrisonburg, Ky., widow of Colonel Bowers of the
Confederate Army. They came to Washington and set up such lavish style
of living as to lead people to believe Mrs. Belknap possessed of ample
means.
The disclosures of the investigation showed that Belknap, when
Secretary of War, not only knew that $1,000 a month was being
profiteered from the private soldiers, the coloured troops, 600 of
them, of the Tenth Cavalry stationed at Fort Sill, for the small
supplies they purchased at the trader’s shop on the reservation, but
he also knew that one half of it came regularly to him to help him
keep up his sumptuous quarters and extravagant style of living and
enable his gay young second wife to continue indulging her taste for
gowns from Worth of Paris. When an officer of the coloured regiment,
after finding it useless to apply to the War Department for redress on
the exorbitant prices at the post trader’s shop, wrote the details to
Senator Sumner, then charges were formally made, and full investigation
followed, showing that in the five years before this fraud was
discovered $40,000 had been taken from these private soldiers, many of
them freedmen, receiving their first pay of thirteen dollars a month.
As soon as the charges were filed, General Belknap resigned. He
appeared at a Cabinet meeting as usual one day, and the next was a
prisoner at the desk in the police court. He was so distressed in
his disgrace that he contemplated suicide. His resignation prevented
impeachment.
Early in June of 1876, officials and a great host of military men, as
well as hosts of admiring friends of the gallant, picturesque General
George Armstrong Custer, who made a brilliant record during the Civil
War, were deeply shocked and saddened by the news of his untimely death
in the terrible massacre of the Little Big Horn on June 25, 1876.
For several years, much interest had centred around the celebration of
the anniversary of the One Hundredth Year of the Independence of the
United States. The principal feature of this was the opening of the
great Centennial Exposition in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, in the
spring of 1876. The huge building of glass and iron covered a space of
about seventy-five acres. To this exhibition all nations of the world
sent samples of their art, industry, or manufacture, but the United
States led in the display of inventions, which demonstrated that an
industrial revolution had developed. The great progress in time- and
labour-saving devices made a lasting impression upon the visitors. Two
of the remarkable novelties shown at that time were the electric light
and Professor A. G. Bell’s invention of the telephone.
An amusing incident that had been induced by the approach of the
Centennial was the notion expressed in the following article which
appeared in the _Star_ of May 29, 1875:
“Among the lively bids for the success of the Centennial, made by
the managers, is a circular sent out to the Governors of the States,
asking each of them to furnish the names of not less than fifty men
who in 1876 will have reached the age of one hundred years. It is
proposed to supply free transportation to the centennial exhibition
to all centenarians and to entertain them as the Nation’s guests. The
New York _Herald_ raises a phantom of alarm in the wide demoralization
of the aged community involved in this project. The number of aged
men who are in training for the Centennial, it says, would startle
the country were it known. Dazzled by the honours which are bestowed
upon the centenarians, many of these individuals have gone, like prize
fighters, into a regular course of training to qualify themselves for
an appearance at the exhibition next year. The result will be that
next year it will be as hard to find an old man of 80 as it is now to
find one of 100.”
As election time approached, many friends and admirers urged upon
General Grant a third term, their theory being that, if any man could
receive that extraordinary proof of the regard and confidence of the
American people, Ulysses S. Grant was that man. While the President was
not indifferent to the honour a third term would convey to the world,
he was not altogether assured it would be a wise move for him to enter
the contest again. Such vindication would be particularly pleasant
after the stormy period which the Democratic majority in the House had
created with fully fifty committees bent upon investigating every act
of his administration. In their efforts to find cause for charging him
with other and graver faults and mistakes than being a poor judge of
men, and being so constituted as to remain loyal to his friends even
when they abused his trust and imposed upon his confidence. He realized
that he was blamed for much of the distressing financial condition of
the country.
The third term idea was unpopular in the House, and that body expressed
itself in a resolution by a vote of 234 to 18 against the third term,
the reason being that the precedent set by General Washington and
adhered to by all his successors was a fixed custom, and to make a
departure from it would be unwise, if not actually unpatriotic.
According to his habit, the President gave the matter due consideration
from every angle and then declined.
Brigadier General Adam Badeau, who spent much time at the White House
and in travelling in Europe with his former chief, was the first to
read this letter declining a third term. In his “Grant in Peace,”
General Badeau says:
“I recollect dining with him [President Grant] more than once in 1875.
His table was always laid so that half a dozen unexpected guests might
be entertained, and one Sunday we lunched informally in the library,
no one but himself and me. He had just finished writing the letter in
which he declined a nomination for a third term. The paper had not
been read as yet to any of his Cabinet, and Mrs. Grant did not know
of his decision. He asked my opinion of the letter, and I told him it
was a good one, if he had determined to withdraw from the contest, but
I had supposed he would not so determine. The letter was sent to the
press the same day without Mrs. Grant’s knowledge, for the General was
sure it would be disagreeable to her, and he wished his decision to be
irrevocable before she learned it. Years afterward, when I told her I
had heard that letter before it was sent, she reproached me more than
half in earnest for not striving harder to prevent its issue.”
Being relieved of the necessity of again going through the
uncertainties and anxieties of a campaign, President Grant and his wife
began their preparations for their release from public service. As they
had long wanted to travel abroad, that plan was developed while the
eyes of the people turned toward the choice of a successor.
On May 17, 1877, General Grant, with his wife and youngest son, Jesse,
bade farewell to the United States to begin what was in reality
his very first real vacation. He had long wanted to visit the Old
World, see its social customs, conditions, study its armies, its
civilizations, its governments and their workings.
Everywhere he met friendliness and cordiality, and no man, American
or of any other nationality, ever received such a continuous and
unabating demonstration of appreciation and popularity as kept step
with his travels. The Occident and the Orient entered into an active
contest in extending proofs of the homage which his life as a soldier,
a president, and the first citizen of the great nation he represented
inspired. Kings, queens, emperors, Indian princes, and Egyptian
potentates, sages, prophets, great chieftains, plain soldiers, and
great statesmen, joined in greeting this man, as did the masses.
He returned to America two years later, reaching San Francisco in
the autumn of 1879, the greatest traveller of the world, possessed
of enduring fame, quantities of beautiful and valuable gifts from
admiring hosts, and not sufficient money to maintain his family in the
unpretentious New York house he had purchased for a home. How to employ
his time--he was but fifty-six--both pleasantly and profitably was a
real problem.
He was induced to allow his name to be used as a candidate for
nomination for the Presidency in 1880. Failing to secure his third-term
honour, he turned his attention to business projects. Shortly, he was
persuaded that the question of income could best be met by investment,
and hence, after much delay and consultation in the family, he invested
all of his capital in the banking business of Grant and Ward. In
making the connection, the General had stipulated that there should
be no government contracts, since he would not permit his name to
be used in such connection. For a while, everything seemed smooth
sailing; the firm rating was of the best, the dividends came regularly
and plentifully. In May, 1884, without a word of warning or a hint
that difficulties were brewing, the General learned that his firm
had failed. He and his sons were stripped to pauperism through most
stupendous speculations.
Once more the silent General squared his shoulders to meet duty, and
every bit of real estate and personal property of his and Mrs. Grant’s
was turned over for security for a previous loan; not even his trophies
did he withhold. The same trumpet call of duty set him to writing
articles for _Century Magazine_ to provide a means of income. Then
came the suggestion that he set himself to the task of writing his
recollections of the war. Finding it an agreeable task rather than a
boresome tax, he was persuaded to write the story of his life. His son,
Frederick Dent Grant, assisted him.
Stricken with the cancerous condition in his throat while he was
at the beginning of this, he faced the knowledge that he must work
with unremitting zeal to provide a source of income for his family.
Only those close to him had a real understanding of the physical
suffering when his voice was finally gone and the agonizing struggle
to keep on writing when too weak to move about his room. Nothing in
medical knowledge offered any release from his pains, and he struggled
valiantly, completing his task four days before his death at Mt.
McGregor, on July 23, 1885.