ADMINISTRATION OF BENJAMIN HARRISON
_March 4, 1889, to March 4, 1893_
March 4, 1889, found Washington City dismal and bedraggled. Her gay
decorations were soggy and discoloured, and under the steady downpour
of a heavy rainstorm, driven at times by a high chill wind, were either
drooping or whipping about, scattering spurts of icy water. All of the
elaborate features of the display planned so energetically to exceed
those of the Cleveland inauguration ceremonies were ruined or had to
be abandoned. Only one idea prevailed--to do what was necessary and
escape to shelter from the elements. An inauguration crowd, however,
is not easily discouraged. Long experience with March weather at the
Capital City has taught the merchant and the tourist to prepare for
the unexpected. Rubbers, raincoats, and umbrellas were in such demand
that the stock was literally sold out early in the morning, for the
great assemblage of visitors turned out, in spite of the pouring rain,
to do honour to the first Chief Magistrate who had the distinction
of succeeding to the office once held by his grandfather. Benjamin
Harrison, grandson of “Old Tippecanoe,” the ninth in the line of
the nation’s Presidents, had been elected the people’s choice as
twenty-third President.
President Cleveland and President-elect Harrison concluded to brave
the weather, dressed accordingly, and rode in an open carriage to
the Capitol. In the struggle with the wind-driven rain, one of the
umbrellas became disabled and another was borrowed from Secretary
Fairchild of the Cabinet, the retiring President calling out
reassuringly, “We are honest folk, we will return it.” The presidential
party was escorted by the Seventieth Indiana Regiment, which had been
recruited and commanded by Colonel Harrison in the Civil War.
The inauguration ceremonies were not exactly on schedule time at the
Capitol, and as the hands of the clock were about to indicate the
noon hour, Captain Bassett, nicknamed by the pages “Old Father Time,”
appeared with his long pole and pushed the hands back ten minutes.
After another wait, he again set them back, this time six minutes. Two
minutes after, President Cleveland entered with the President-elect.
Vice President Morton was sworn in, and the regular procedure followed
on the East Portico, where the oath was administered by Chief Justice
Fuller. So much had been said of President Harrison’s oratory and
clever speech-making that the concourse about the Capitol was
packed with people so anxious to hear his words as to disregard the
discomforts of the long wait in the rain. To a sea of black umbrellas,
President Harrison delivered a twenty-minute address.
The return trip to the White House was uneventful. The street crowd,
enthusiastic and faithful, drenched and bedraggled, sustained their
interest until the last marchers had passed.
President and Mrs. Cleveland had arranged the luncheon for their
successors, immediately after which came the review of the parade of
men that again occupied the time until dark in passing the President’s
stand.
Once more the Pension Office was used for the inaugural ball, where
twelve thousand people gave the new presidential party a royal welcome.
A notable feature in the decoration was a huge ship of state made
entirely of flowers, suspended from the ceiling and so constructed as
to shower the presidential party with blossoms as they entered. This
floral piece was thirty feet long and was the largest design ever made
of natural flowers.
Mrs. Harrison’s beautiful pearl brocade gown with its elaborate gold
embroidery and long train was much admired. It was of especial interest
to the women of the land, as there had been such an effort put forth to
induce her to wear décolleté. She emphatically refused, and her ball
gown, open a little at the throat, filled in with old point lace, with
its elbow sleeves, was sufficiently rich and elegant to please the most
critical.
So much had been said to her on the question of her dress for this
event that, in making her decision against the low-cut and sleeveless
gown, she said, in an interview on February 22, 1889:
“If there is one thing above another I detest and have detested all my
days it is being made a circus of, and that is what has come to me in
my old age, as it were. I’ve been a show, the whole family’s been a
show since Mr. Harrison was elected. All last fall I sat in my sewing
room and watched the procession of feet pass across the parlour floor
wearing their path into the nap, and disappear like the trail of a
caravan into the General’s room beyond. Day by day, I watched the path
grow wider and deeper, and at last the caravan spread out and engulfed
us all. But I don’t propose to be made a circus of forever! If there’s
any privacy to be found in the White House, I propose to find it and
preserve it.”
[Illustration: _Photo. by Brady_
MRS. BENJAMIN HARRISON
Showing her pin of the Daughters of the American Revolution, of which
she was the first President General]
With the inauguration festivities over, President Harrison gave first
attention to those who were to be his immediate advisers in his
administration.
He was fortunate in his running mate, Levi P. Morton, a Vermonter by
birth, who had risen from a position as country store clerk to that
of partner in a Boston firm. Later, he founded banks in New York and
abroad in England, heading Morton Bros. and Company, later the Morton
Trust Company. He served with credit in Congress during 1878 and 1880,
and from 1885 to 1887 rendered valued service as Minister to France.
His influence and prestige counted for much.
President Harrison chose the following as his official family: James
G. Blaine, of Maine, was named Secretary of State, the same post he
had filled in Garfield’s Cabinet. Mr. William Windom, of Minnesota,
Secretary of the Treasury, was another Garfield cabineteer. Redfield
Proctor, of Vermont, as Secretary of War; William H. H. Miller, of
Indiana, for Attorney General; John Wanamaker, of Pennsylvania, for
Postmaster General; Benjamin F. Tracy, of New York, for Secretary of
the Navy; John W. Noble, of Missouri, for Secretary of the Interior;
and Jeremiah M. Rusk, of Wisconsin, for Secretary of Agriculture, gave
general satisfaction.
Although the President was reserved to a marked degree--so much so that
he was accused of haughtiness--those who knew him in his home life, or
as a soldier or a legal adviser, saw another side to his nature. He
was a man who had always had before him the example of distinguished
forbears, that served to inspire him with the ambition to achieve and
curbed any tendency toward letting his life run along with the tide of
least resistance.
He was born at North Bend, Ohio, in the old Harrison family homestead,
established and defended by his pioneer grandfather. His boyhood was
like that of the average farm boy, with its round of chores and farm
pleasures.
The traditions of the Harrison family were of a high order. They
demanded education for their children, and so, on the farm, two miles
from the house, a small school was early built for the boys of the
vicinity. No regular district schools were within a distance possible
for their attendance. A log cabin with a dirt floor, rude benches
without backs, slabs and blocks of wood for desks, walls sans paint or
plaster--this little temple of learning was in its severe primitive
rudeness a real school.
In church matters, too, young Harrison had a thorough training in
the Presbyterian faith of his fathers. His father considered it his
parental duty and responsibility to supervise his children’s religious
training.
Sundays frequently brought visits and dinners with his grandmother, and
from babyhood he heard tales of his grandfather President and, what he
loved most, the tales of the wild, untamed wilderness and brilliant
military achievements.
Harrison was graduated from the Miami University fourth in a group of
sixteen on June 24, 1852.
Greek legends and mathematical problems did not fill his entire time.
With the habit of youth, he had fallen deeply and seriously in love
with his first sweetheart, the charming dark-eyed daughter, Caroline
Lavinia, of Dr. John Scott, of a near-by academy. To the amazement and
the chagrin of a host of young men students, she became engaged to
eighteen-year-old Ben Harrison. Some of his mates were astonished and
wondered and commented on the queer ways of love and girls. They asked
each other, how could she--Caroline Scott--fall in love with a chap
small and insignificant in appearance, plain of feature and of dress,
afflicted with unusual diffidence and reserve, whose only claim to
pretensions of any sort was the possession of an ancestor who had been
a signer of the Declaration of Independence and another a President
of the United States. True, Ben Harrison also claimed a descent from
John Rolfe and Pocahontas. But Miss Caroline was content. The two
were married in the autumn of 1853 and started out in an Indianapolis
boarding house with a total cash asset of $800, a sum which the young
man had borrowed on a lot which he had inherited from a relative.
Harrison studied law and was admitted to the bar. Soon clients flocked
to him. There was nothing aggressive or dominant about him; but the
shyness or reserve, which at first was diffidence, wore away, leaving
a quiet assurance that bespoke power of mind. In 1860, he began his
political career as a candidate before the Republican Convention for
the position of Reporter of the Supreme Court, to which he was elected
by a substantial majority.
Two children soon came to more than fill Mrs. Harrison’s time. So the
young couple found themselves a tiny cottage, where Mrs. Harrison did
all of her housework, aided before breakfast, at midday, and at night
by her husband. He chopped wood, filled the wood box and water buckets,
and did all of the outside home chores.
This was their situation when the guns of Sumter sounded the tocsin
of war and sent the blood of revolutionary ancestry bounding in Ben
Harrison’s veins. However, he had a family dependent on him, and he
gave the matter serious consideration. Meanwhile, he made a call upon
Governor O. Morton, of Indiana, who settled for him the paramount
matter of his place in the war. Mr. Harrison had said to his friend:
“If I can be of service, I’ll go.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the
Governor replied, “Raise a regiment in this congressional district, and
you can command it!”
Harrison regarded this as a command as well as a promise. He went
straight home, found Mrs. Harrison in full sympathy with his anxiety
to do his part for his country. The Stars and Stripes were hung from
the humble law office window, and Lawyer Harrison started recruiting,
quickly assembling Company A, the nucleus foundation for the Seventieth
Indiana Volunteers. Soon a regiment was assembled, for the Harrison
name held a magic sound.
Thrilling stories from the Seventieth Indiana Volunteer Infantry in one
of the most severe of the battles--that at Resaca, Ga., May 14 and 15,
1864--told that “Little Ben” fought like a demon in the hand-to-hand
encounter. More stories of gallantry came from New Hope Church,
Golgotha Church, and Kenesaw Mountain. But the crowning exploit that
sent Harrison’s name ringing over the country as a true son of a race
of military chieftains was that of Peach Tree Creek.
The victory of Peach Tree Creek has been accredited to Harrison’s
initiative and fearless leadership. Major General Joseph Hooker rode
up to him after the battle and exclaimed, “By God, I’ll make you a
Brigadier General for this fight.” The General wrote a letter to
the Secretary of War asking for Colonel Harrison’s promotion, and
the promised commission came as Brevet Brigadier General, signed by
Abraham Lincoln, and countersigned by Secretary of War Stanton in
acknowledgment of “ability and manifest energy and gallantry in command
of brigade.”
At the end of the war, he returned to Indianapolis, resumed his office
of Supreme Court Reporter, and devoted his energies to building up his
practice.
He took the stump through Indiana in behalf of General Grant in 1868,
and repeated this service in the interest of the hero of Appomattox
again in 1872.
General Harrison’s activity in the Garfield campaign brought him
the offer of a Cabinet portfolio, which he declined, preferring to
serve his term as Senator. While in the Senate, he opposed President
Cleveland’s policy of pension vetoes.
Although the President sought a renomination and hoped his policies
would receive the endorsement of the American public in the fall
elections, it was evident that the Republicans would make a determined
effort to retrieve their power. While many of the Democratic leaders
were disgruntled over President Cleveland’s methods and practices,
there was no opposition to him as the standard bearer for the
Democratic party for another term, and the convention was devoid of
excitement as it renominated him by acclamation, with Allen G. Thurman
for Vice President.
For a time, it seemed that James G. Blaine’s political star was again
in the ascendancy, but the “Plumed Knight” was in Europe and was not
receptive. He had tried and failed so continuously for sixteen years
that he was convinced the Presidency was not for him, and refused
to permit his name to be used in the Republican Convention, though
besought by cables from hosts of admiring friends and supporters.
Senator Harrison’s steadily growing popularity prophesied his
selection, and he received the nomination on the eighth ballot. It was
made unanimous, and Levi P. Morton, of New York, was nominated for Vice
President.
The tariff was the vital issue of the hour which drew the leaders of
both parties into the arena of debate during the campaign, and upon it
were hurled volumes of argument and oratory from platform and stump.
Here was where the lucid exposition of the great lawyer made a profound
impression through his clear speeches and charm of expression. The
campaign was lively; banners, processions, and songs added zest to the
rallies and political meetings.
The long score of complaints against President Cleveland due to his
independence of party direction had antagonized Tammany Hall. His stand
on the tariff robbed him of the strong support of the big manufacturing
industries. His wholesale vetoes of pensions had antagonized the
soldier vote. These sins, added to the fact that the incoming Governor
of New York, David B. Hill, though a Democrat, was not an adherent
of the Cleveland policy, contributed to his defeat. With New York’s
powerful and decisive vote thrown to the Republican candidate, Benjamin
Harrison, President Cleveland was eclipsed.
One of the important assets of Harrison’s administration was the new
mistress of the White House, whose cordial friendliness and natural
graciousness offset her husband’s formality.
Mrs. Harrison brought to her position as chatelaine of the mansion a
splendid equipment for her important duties, through a lifetime of
activity in social, philanthropic, and patriotic service. Always a
church worker, she had the ready sympathy and understanding of welfare
matters that were of the greatest help in meeting the many demands made
upon her in Washington. Her charity and constant aid to people in every
sort of difficulty were extended so quietly that little or nothing was
known of it during her lifetime.
Both she and the President were deeply religious, and the Sabbath
observance was punctiliously followed, even to the point of the
President’s securing additional clerical help for necessary Sunday
correspondence, so that the regular staff might have the day for rest
after the week of work. Morning prayers were continued, regardless of
the change of residence. During Harrison’s senatorship, he and Mrs.
Harrison had established their religious attendance in the Church of
the Covenant, where they continued to worship during their years at the
White House.
President Harrison was possessed of an aristocratic manner and great
natural dignity. To this he added a high regard for his office. He
regulated his daily life and all public appearances while Chief
Executive to command the utmost respect from the public. In this,
he was much like General Grant, who demanded little for himself but
for the President of the United States all possible honour. It is
claimed that he carried this attitude into his churchgoing, making his
arrival just at the opening moment of the service, and entering from a
side door near the pulpit. This stately progress to his pew made the
congregation aware that the President of the United States and the
First Lady were attendants at worship.
With their installation in the Executive Mansion, the Harrisons were
naturally accompanied by their son and daughter and grandchildren. They
made a lively group to brighten up the big house. The son, Russell
Harrison, and his wife, had one little daughter, while the son-in-law
and daughter, Mr. and Mrs. James Robert McKee, brought with them the
already famous youngster “Baby McKee,” two years old, properly known
as Benjamin Harrison McKee, and his infant sister, Mary Dodge, of less
than a year. This little lady was christened in the Blue Room by her
venerable grandfather, the Rev. Dr. Scott, with water from the River
Jordan.
Mrs. Harrison was horrified when she discovered the basement floor of
the White House to be overrun with rats, and when, a few days later,
the President observed a large gray rodent helping himself from the
side table in the family dining room, a campaign of extermination was
arranged. Every kind of trap and poison having been tried and ignored
by the pests, a professional rat catcher, with his dog and ferrets, was
installed. He discovered the grounds about the house to be honeycombed
with rat holes, and after several hundred had been killed by the
ferrets, Mrs. Harrison decided to improve the conditions of the entire
basement. She had the floors taken up and was amazed to find that the
kitchen floor contained a number of layers, new boards having been laid
upon the old whenever repairs had been made in the past. In accordance
with her wish, these were all torn out and the entire basement covered
with concrete, this being covered, in the kitchen, with tiling. All of
the walls of these lower rooms were tiled shoulder high. The repairs
changed the dark, unattractive, and unsanitary rooms into wholesome,
cheery places, easy to keep clean.
The condition of the kitchen and the vast improvement brought about
by the repairs there furnished Mrs. Harrison with further incentive
to put the entire mansion through an overhauling. With her daughter
and daughter-in-law to aid her, this trio of accomplished housekeepers
proceeded to supervise the renovation and refurnishing from the attic
to the cellar, and as this work progressed, Mrs. Harrison began to have
visions of what the President’s house should be and how it might be
vastly improved by remodelling. The more she studied the possibilities
of rearrangement of the offices, the more convinced she became that a
practical solution was feasible. To enlarge the living quarters, to
give the family more privacy and the Executive more space for the daily
work of his staff was her dream. The repairs she had made had cost
$50,000 and there was no possibility of extensive remodelling, much
as she would have liked it done. But she consulted the Commissioner
of Public Buildings and Grounds, various architects, discussed
the advantages of her proposed changes with many of the members of
Congress, and planted the seeds of her very fine and thoroughly
practical plan, which was carried out later but not until ten years
after her death.
Soon after Mrs. Harrison’s arrival she engaged for the culinary
department of the White House at a wage of fifty dollars per month
a Frenchwoman formerly in the service of Lord Sackville West of the
British Embassy. This plan was for the summer months.
The climate of the Capital City or the atmosphere of the then draughty
mansion failed to agree with the Harrison grandchildren, as they all
became ill, to the great distress of the President and his wife. Early
in the summer, the physician ordered them to be taken to the seashore.
Owing to this sudden change in the family living arrangements, Mrs.
Harrison, to economize, thought she would dispense with her French
cook of vast experience and high wage, and, during the absence of the
bulk of the family, avail herself of the service of a coloured woman
at fifteen dollars monthly. She forthwith discharged her cook, only to
discover that, although First Lady of the Land, mistress of the White
House, and leader of millions of women, there were limitations to her
authority when she tried to dismiss her cook. The cook refused to be
discharged, preferring to remain the genius of the White House kitchen;
she most emphatically refused to leave unless paid for the entire
season. She considered her dismissal cause for a suit for damages,
and before the matter was adjusted satisfactorily to both sides, a
lawyer had been engaged, the matter put before Marquis de Chambrun,
law representative of the French Government in the city, and the usual
attorney’s letter for settlement sent to the President.
In planning her social programme, the First Lady had the efficient aid
of both Mrs. McKee and Mrs. Russell Harrison. Each made frequent and
lengthy visits to the White House, and each assumed the rôle of hostess
occasionally to her own large circle of friends in and near Washington.
The state dinners, receptions, luncheons, balls, and parties were
charming and delighted the society that so loved the gaiety of Mrs.
Cleveland’s youthful régime.
The Harrison family were highly complimented upon their handsome horses
and carriages. For his use on March 4th, General Harrison purchased an
elegant landau for which he paid $2,000. This the family called the
“state coach.” For Mrs. Harrison’s use he selected a family carriage at
$1,000. Six spirited horses, cherry bay in colour, all sixteen hands
and a half, took possession of the stables. While President Harrison
was the most consistent pedestrian in White House history, he also
loved to handle the reins and took the greatest pride in his equipages.
Among the many budding projects to which Mrs. Harrison gave the support
and encouragement of her active interest and the prestige of her name
was that of the newly formed national society of the Daughters of
the American Revolution, which now numbers more than a quarter of a
million women, and which is the most potent factor in the preservation
of American patriotic traditions and the greatest existing force in
directing the education of the children of the country toward an
understanding and an appreciation of the principles and standards
formulated by their forefathers.
Mrs. Harrison accepted the leadership of this patriotic society,
serving as its first National President General. Her influence went
far toward giving its growth the needed impetus. Patriotic societies
were not plentiful, and in the East, no organization of descendants of
the Revolution save that of the Sons of the Revolution existed. This
association, meeting in Louisville, Ky., in April of 1890, cast a vote
excluding women from membership, although the original organization
formed in California in 1875 had both men and women on its roster.
When the news of this action was broadcast through the press, Miss
Eugenia Washington, great-grandniece of General George Washington,
decided that it was time for women to form a society of Daughters.
With the aid of Mrs. Ellen Hardin Walworth and Miss Mary Desha, of
Washington, D. C., the Daughters of the American Revolution was founded
in August of 1890. Meanwhile, Mrs. Mary Lockwood, member of the
National Press Association, aroused to protest against the action of
the “Sons” in Louisville, published in the Washington _Post_ the story
of a Revolutionary War heroine, Hannah Arnett, as an illustration of
the fact that women were worthy of honour for their service in that
conflict as well as men. Mrs. Lockwood, not being in the city at the
time of the meeting, could not be a founder but was given an especial
honour for her service through the press.
After a time, when Mrs. Harrison’s health began to decline, Mrs. McKee
made the White House her home and relieved her mother of the greater
part of the routine, particularly that of correspondence.
But it is not so much for the pleasant and important official functions
that the twenty-sixth administration is remembered as for the picture
of delightful home life presented by these doting grandparents and
their little folks.
Their first grandson, Benjamin Harrison McKee, was the autocrat of the
White House, around whose daily performances and schedule of living
volumes were written, and this publicity was shared by his baby sister
and his little cousin Marthena Harrison. From the time young Benjamin
smiled and cooed at the crowds at the Harrison home in Indianapolis,
where he got the name of “Baby McKee,” until the little Cleveland
lassie usurped his Washington residence, he held the centre of the
stage. Idolized by his grandparents, the chum and special playfellow of
the dignified President, he became a national figure as much discussed
as his elders.
With all of the President’s dignity and conventionality, he did not
hesitate an instant in giving chase in all of the inappropriateness of
frock coat and silk hat when, one day, the goat team elected to run
away with Baby McKee, dashing directly out of the grounds and into the
street. However, young Benjamin sat tight, and the anxious grandfather
reached him in time to prevent a real catastrophe.
The critics who accused Benjamin Harrison of being “an iceberg” should
have seen him romping with the children of the family.
The presence of these little folk was the incentive for many delightful
children’s parties, particularly during the holidays, and Colonel W.
H. Crook, so long attached to the White House, has claimed that the
first White House Christmas tree in his memory was the very large,
gorgeous one put up in the library the first Christmas of the Harrison
administration, in the trimming of which the President, all of the
family, and the staff assisted. It carried toys not only for the
children of the family but for everyone attached to the White House and
their families. Around it, too, were piled the hundreds of gifts and
remembrances sent by friends and presidential admirers.
Mrs. Harrison’s social plans had many unhappy interruptions through
the unusual number of deaths in their immediate and official family.
The first of these, about at the beginning of their administration, was
that of Mrs. Lord, Mrs. Harrison’s sister, a resident of Washington and
an employee of one of the government departments, who had also kept
house for their aged father, Dr. John Scott. Mrs. Harrison was untiring
in her devotion to her sister, and after Mrs. Lord’s death, took her
father and Mrs. Mary Lord Dimmick, Mrs. Lord’s widowed daughter, to the
White House to live.
Early in 1890, on February 2d, society was grieved over the death of
Secretary Blaine’s daughter, Mrs. Coppinger, and on the following day
the city was inexpressibly shocked by the terrible bereavement and
tragedy that came to Secretary Tracy in the fire that destroyed his
home on Farragut Square, causing the deaths of Mrs. Tracy, a daughter,
and a maid. Mrs. Tracy, in her terror of suffering, had jumped from the
window. The President was among the first to arrive on the scene and
at once took the Secretary and the other daughter, Mrs. Wilmerding, to
the White House, where Mrs. Harrison did her utmost to comfort them.
Later in the day, the bodies of the Secretary’s wife and daughter were
brought to the White House and the coffins placed side by side in
the East Room. The tragedy to this gracious matron and charming girl
affected his Cabinet group as an individual and personal affliction.
Those who attended the funeral in the East Room will never forget the
pathos of that service, so poignant in its atmosphere of sorrow that
even one of the little boy choristers was overcome and carried fainting
from the room.
“Baby McKee’s” fourth birthday was an occasion for a great family
celebration. The President and little Benjamin led the way to the small
dining room, where the round table was surrounded by fifteen high
chairs. The table was gaily decked with flags and flowers to please
childish eyes, and a luncheon was served consisting of bouillon, beaten
biscuits cut in the form of chickens with their wings outstretched, ice
cream, and cakes. Mothers and nurses attended and enjoyed the Virginia
reel which concluded the affair.
President Harrison had long been of the opinion that he himself would
gain much in the way of understanding his manifold problems and that
the people of the land would get a clearer grasp of his efforts in
administering his high office if he were to make a tour of the country.
Accordingly, he made his arrangements for a swing around a circle
that embraced practically one half of the United States. About twenty
persons outside of his immediate family accompanied him. Those most
important in the group were Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. McKee, Mr. and Mrs.
Russell Harrison, and Mrs. Dimmick of the family, and Secretary Rusk
and Postmaster General Wanamaker of the Cabinet.
They left on the night of April 14th and stopped at Roanoke, where the
President made his first speech. From there the itinerary took them
through Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and
California. In California, Harrison delivered more than forty speeches.
He then proceeded to Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, Colorado,
Nebraska, Kansas, Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, Ohio, Indiana, Maryland,
and Pennsylvania. Everywhere, at his arrival, there was an enthusiastic
ovation. In New Mexico, at one stop he was presented with a beautiful
case of silver made from ore mined in the vicinity.
On this trip, the President made one hundred and forty-two speeches,
most of them extemporaneous, built upon the issues of the hour and
around the problems of particular interest to the various sections of
the country through which he was travelling.
One of the prettiest Christmas incidents in which a President ever
figured occurred during this trip and shows that Harrison’s love of
children was not reserved entirely for his own grandchildren. While
passing through Richmond, Ind., the President was surprised in his car
by the visit of a tiny girl of four who, when he took her upon his
knee, threw her arms about his neck, kissed him impulsively, and thrust
a new penknife into his hand.
When the next holiday time came near, the President sent a letter and
a beautiful doll, both to be delivered to that same little girl on
Christmas Eve. And here is a copy of that letter:
MY DEAR LITTLE FRIEND:
When you came into my car at Richmond I did not see you until you
stood at my feet looking up to me so sweetly that I did not know but
a little fairy had come in through the window. But when I picked you
up and you gave me a kiss, then I knew it was a real little girl. The
pretty knife you handed me I will keep till you are a big girl, and
when I go back to Indiana to live you must come to see me and I will
show you that I have not forgotten you. The little doll which you will
find in the box with this letter is for you, and I hope you will think
it is pretty. If the doll could talk she would tell you how much I
love to be loved by the little children.
Affectionately yours,
BENJAMIN HARRISON.
The Tracy tragedies, coming so close upon the other griefs, had given
Mrs. Harrison’s already depleted strength a severe shock, from which
she really never entirely rallied. This exhaustion, or fatigue,
increased, but Mrs. Harrison would not admit being ill--“only tired.”
She loved the conservatory. She had always been interested in china
painting and had taken lessons in art. She spent much time there, after
she began to fail, in painting orchids, the odd blossoms that appeared
for the first time during her régime, and for the first time on a White
House table at a diplomatic dinner. She had also started collecting
relics of her predecessors. In her plans for enlarging and improving
the White House, she had arranged for their display.
In the spring of 1892, every member of the family save the President
contracted grippe. Mrs. Harrison supervised the nursing of all, even
doing a great deal of the actual work herself. Finally, she also
succumbed to the malady, which left her with a serious lung trouble,
and while she was pleased and proud of her husband’s renomination, she
could not participate personally in the rejoicings and celebrations.
She continued to fail, and early in the summer her family took her to
Loon Lake, in the Adirondacks, in the hope that the change of air would
create an improvement. This was a vain hope, and in October she was
brought back to the White House in the last stages of the disease. Too
worn and exhausted to rally, she never left her room after her return.
She passed her thirty-ninth marriage anniversary with her husband
at the White House five days before she died, on October 24, 1892,
after eight months of suffering. She did not live to know that he was
defeated by Cleveland, whom he had succeeded. Her death occurred in the
same room that had been occupied by President Garfield after he had
been wounded by Guiteau.
The funeral was exceedingly simple and was attended only by the family,
the Cabinet, the Supreme Court, and a little group of personal friends.
Orchids, her favourite flower, and roses completely covered the casket.
After the services, her body was taken to Indianapolis for interment.
About a month later, Dr. John W. H. Scott, Mrs. Harrison’s father, died
at the age of ninety-three. His funeral service was held in the East
Room. Although of such advanced years, he had discharged the duties of
his calling efficiently until President Harrison’s inauguration.
The closing days of President Harrison’s régime were dreary. In the
death of his wife, he had lost his lifetime companion, whose sweet
graciousness and womanly sympathy did so much to offset his own seeming
coldness and austerity. Many of Mrs. Harrison’s admirers believed that,
had she lived and kept her health, he would not have failed of a second
term.
The illness and death of their beloved President General who had won
the love of the membership was a personal sorrow to her associates in
the Daughters of the Revolution. At the Congress of 1894, two years
after her death, the beautiful portrait of her by Daniel Huntington
was unveiled and then presented to the White House as the gift of the
society to the nation.
In President Harrison’s administration there was a complete reversal
of policy on the tariff and pensions. A liberal pension policy was
adopted--so liberal that it was charged that the Commissioner of
Pensions hunted up groups to whom pensions might be extended. Finally,
an act was passed giving a pension to every soldier who had served
ninety days and was not able to be self-supporting, regardless of
whether or not the disability was due to his war service. Thus,
many thousands of pensioners were added to the roster in Harrison’s
four years, with the enormous increase of annual expenditure from
$89,000,000 to $159,000,000.
Much important legislation was enacted. Great was the satisfaction over
the admission of six new states, two of which, by the way, extended the
ballot to women and equal business rights. The states were Montana,
North Dakota, Idaho, South Dakota, Washington, and Wyoming.
The opening of Oklahoma marked another epoch in national progress.
The tract which had formed part of the Indian Territory was purchased
from the Indians in 1889. In the spring of that year, fully fifty
thousand people were eagerly waiting the word to enter and take up
lands in that region. President Harrison’s proclamation declared that
no one who entered and occupied lands in Oklahoma before twelve noon of
April 22, 1889, should be permitted to acquire rights to lands there
by such entrance and occupation. Hence, on the stroke of twelve, the
bugle announced that Oklahoma was open, and a vast multitude rushed
across the line, each endeavouring to get in ahead of the rest. Almost
overnight, towns of rough board shanties and tents sprang up like
mushrooms. Oklahoma City and Guthrie started thus; but five months
later, Guthrie was a real town, with several newspapers, banks, and a
street railway under construction. Such was the spirit of progress!
To the delight of the navy enthusiasts, the ninety old wooden ships
were being steadily replaced by battleships and steamers of steel
construction.
Most important to the business interests of the country were the three
acts passed by Congress in 1890: the new Pension Act, that added
400,000 names to the pension roster, the expense of which has already
been given; the McKinley Tariff, the principal object of which was the
protection of American products and American industries against foreign
competition; and the Sherman Silver Purchase and Coinage Act, which
provided that each month the treasurer should buy, if it were offered,
4,500,000 ounces, or more than 140 tons, of silver and coin it into
dollars.
The centennial census showed the population of the United States to
be more than 62,000,000, a gain over the first census of 1790 of
50,000,000 people. A centennial celebration was held by the Supreme
Court, and another by the Patent Office. This latter was especially
interesting because of the history it disclosed. The first patents
issued were for potash and soap in 1790. During the hundred years
that followed, 450,000 patents had been applied for and secured.
Inventors had endeavoured to enter every field of human skill, with the
result that America’s labour-saving machines led the world. A notable
and everyday utilitarian invention that has given satisfaction in
transportation to countless hundreds is the safety bicycle, which “Baby
McKee” learned to ride with his mother.
It was during this administration that national politics was invaded by
the Farmers’ Alliance. The immigration laws also came in for amendment.
An incident worthy of note was the great Carnegie Steel Strike at
Homestead, Pa., to which the governor finally had to send troops.
President Harrison could not fail to feel a satisfaction in the record
of accomplishment of his four years, and when he prepared to turn the
White House over to his successor, he resolved to go back to his law
practice, knowing that his future was established. He need accept only
such clients as appealed to him and would be able to meet his fees.
He went back to the lawyer’s office in Indianapolis where he had first
practised his profession. He accepted his defeat for reëlection in
1892 as final, and thereupon retired permanently from party politics.
His only reëntrance into national affairs was when he became a member
of the board of arbitration for Venezuela, which settled the historic
boundary dispute between Great Britain and the South American Republic.
After his presidential term General Harrison became less reserved. He
used to spend his vacations out of doors, and was most devoted to his
grandchildren, the McKees. He became a familiar figure at Cape May,
where the beach crowds often saw him romping in the surf with them.
On April 6, 1896, he married Mrs. Mary Scott Lord Dimmick, the niece
of his first wife, who had acted as Mrs. Harrison’s secretary during
her stay in the White House. The wedding took place at St. Thomas’s
Protestant Episcopal Church on Fifth Avenue, New York City, in the
presence of a small group of friends. Neither General Harrison’s son
nor his daughter was present. He took his bride to his Indiana home,
where a baby girl was born to them the following year. This marriage
estranged his family, as it was not at all pleasing to the children of
his first wife.
He died of acute pneumonia in Indianapolis, March 13, 1901, with his
immediate family and a few old friends around him. Although en route to
his side, neither Russell Harrison nor Mrs. McKee was with him at his
death.
Benjamin Harrison’s rêgime was one of dignity. It reflected honour upon
himself and the nation.