Autobiography of Seventy Years Part 42

Perhaps I may as well add in this connection that I believed I recommended the first married woman ever appointed postmaster in this country, shortly after I entered the House.

When Colonel Chenoweth, who had been on General Grant's staff, a most brilliant and able officer of the War, died in office as Consul at Canton, China, to which he was appointed by President Grant, I urged very strongly upon Grant the appointment of the widow to the place. She had, during her husband's illness, performed a great part of the duties very well, and to the great satisfaction of the merchants doing business there.

I told General Grant the story. He said he would make the appointment--to use his own phrase--if Fish would let him.

But Mr. Fish was inexorable. He thought it would be a very undignified proceeding. He also urged, with great reason, that a Consul had to hold court for the trial of some grave offences, committed often by very bad characters, and that it was out of the question that a delicate lady should be expected to know or to have anything to do with them. So the proposal fell through.

Daniel W. Voorhees of Indiana served in the House with me.

I had with him there one very angry conflict. But it did not interrupt our friendly relations. He was a man of a good deal of eloquence, very popular in his own State, and said to have been a very successful and able lawyer, especially in arguing cases to juries. His political speeches in the Senate were carefully prepared, very able statements of his side, and very severe denunciations of his antagonists. But he was a very kind-hearted man indeed, always willing to do a kindness to any of his a.s.sociates, or to any person in trouble.

If he could not be relied on to protect the Treasury against claims of doubtful validity, when they were urged by persons in need, or who in any way excited his sympathy, it ought to be said in defence of him, that he would have been quite as willing to relieve them to the extent of his power from his private resources.

Bainbridge Wadleigh of New Hamps.h.i.+re succeeded to the Chairmans.h.i.+p of the Committee on Privileges and Elections after Mr. Morton's death in the summer of 1869. He was a modest, quiet and unpretending man, of stainless integrity, of great industry in dealing with any matter for which he had direct responsibility, and of great wisdom and practical sense. I formed a very pleasant friends.h.i.+p with him, and regretted it exceedingly when he left the Senate, after serving a single term. There was at the time a very bad practice in New Hamps.h.i.+re of frequently changing her Senators. So few of the very able men who have represented her in the Senate for the last fifty years have made the impression upon the public service, or gained the fame to which their ability would have ent.i.tled them, if they had had longer service. Mr. Wadleigh was an excellent lawyer, and the Senate gave him its confidence in all matters with which his important Committee had to deal.

David Davis of Illinois was a very interesting character.

He had been a successful lawyer, an eminent Judge in his State, and a very admirable Judge of the Supreme Court of the United States, to which office he was appointed by Abraham Lincoln.

He entered the Senate when I did, and served one term of six years. His service in the Senate did not add at all to his distinction. The one thing he had done in life of which he was very proud and which was of most importance, was bringing about the nomination of Abraham Lincoln at Chicago. Of that he liked to discourse whenever he could get a listener, and his discourses were always so entertaining that everybody listened who could.

David Davis thought that but for him Lincoln would not have been nominated. I have little doubt that he was right. He had many able and bright men to help him. But he was the leader, director and counsellor of all the forces. He threw himself into it with all the zeal of a man fighting for his life. He made pledges right and left, seeming to discover every man's weak point, and used entreaty, flattery and promises without stint, and, if he were himself to be believed, without much scruple. When somebody said to him in my hearing, "You must have used a good deal of diplomacy, Judge, at that Convention."

"Diplomacy," replied Davis, "My dear man, I lied like the devil." He had that sense of humor peculiar to Americans, which likes to state in an exaggerated way things that are calculated to shock the listener, which our English and German brethren cannot comprehend. So I do not think this statement of Davis's is to be taken without many grains of salt. I suppose he thought the man to whom he said it would not take it too literally.

Judge Davis was a man of very warm sympathy. He liked to give accounts of cases he had tried, sitting in equity, or I think sometimes in divorce cases, where he had invented a curious rule of law, or had stretched his discretion, to save some poor widow, or wronged wife, or suffering orphan, a share of an estate to which their legal t.i.tle was in considerable doubt. If he were led by his sympathies ever to be an unjust Judge, at least the poor widow had no need to worry him by her importunities. He avenged her speedily the first time.

He was a Republican before and during the War, and a steadfast supporter of Lincoln's policies. His opinion had been in general in support of the liberal construction of the Const.i.tution, under which the National powers had been exerted to put down the Rebellion.

He was elected to the Senate after resigning his place on the Supreme Court Bench, by a union of Democrats of the Illinois Legislature with a few discontented Republicans, defeating Logan. When he came to the Senate he preserved his position as an Independent. He did not go into the caucuses of either party. He had no sympathy with the more radical element among the Democrats. Yet he liked to be considered a special representative of the Labor Party in the country. I think he hoped that there might be a union or coalition of the Democrats and Labor men in the Presidential election of 1880, and that in that way he would be elected President.

His seat was on the Republican side. When there was a division, if he voted with the Republicans, he sat in his seat, or rose in his seat if there was a rising vote; but when, as not unfrequently happened, he voted with the Democrats, he always left his seat and went over to the Democratic side of the Chamber, and stood there until his name was called, or his vote counted.

As he pa.s.sed Conkling one day in one of these movings, Conkling called out, "Davis, do you get travel for all these journeys?"

When the Senate came together in special session, on Monday, October 10, 1881, it was found that the Democrats had a majority of two. One Senator only was present from Rhode Island, one only from Nevada, and the two newly elected Senators from New York had not been admitted to their seats. A motion of Mr. Edmunds that the oath prescribed by law be administered to the Senators from New York was laid on the table. On that vote the Democrats had a majority of two, Mr. Davis voting with the Republicans. On a resolution that Thomas F. Bayard, a Senator from Delaware, be chosen President pro tempore, Mr. Edmunds moved an amendment by striking it all out and inserting a resolution that the oath of office be administered to Mr. Miller and Mr. Lapham of New York, and Mr. Aldrich of Rhode Island, by Mr. Henry B. Anthony the senior Senator of the Senate. That resolution was lost by a vote of thirty- four to thirty-three, Mr. Davis voting with the Republicans.

Mr. Edmunds then moved to add to the resolution declaring Mr. Bayard President pro tempore, the words "for this day."

That was lost by one vote, Mr. Davis voting with the Republicans.

After several other unsuccessful attempts, Mr. Bayard was chosen President pro tempore, the resolution being carried by a majority of two votes, Mr. Davis not voting. Thereupon Mr. Bayard accepted the office in a speech, brief, but which clearly implied an expectation on his part to continue in it for a considerable period of time.

The next day, being Tuesday, October 11, Mr. Aldrich of Rhode Island, Mr. Lapham and Mr. Miller of New York, were admitted to their seats. This left a majority of two for the Republicans, if Mr. Davis acted with them, and the two parties tied, if Mr. Davis acted with the Democrats.

The Democrats had succeeded in electing their President pro tempore, whom the Republicans could not displace, and there was left before the body a struggle for the organization of the Senate, including the executive officers and the Committees, in which no progress could be made without Mr. Davis's help.

That being the condition of things, the Republicans called a caucus, in which Senator Logan, Mr. Davis's colleague, appeared with a message from Mr. Davis. This substance of the message was that Mr. Davis thought that the Republicans ought to leave the organization, so far as the executive offices were concerned, in the hands of the Democrats, who had elected the existing officers during the previous Congress, and that the Committees should be appointed with Republican majorities. Mr. Logan further announced that if the Republicans should see fit to elect Mr. Davis President pro tempore, he would vote in accordance with that understanding. Mr. Ingalls of Kansas and I were quite unwilling to accede to this arrangement.

But at that time the Committees lasted only for the session for which they were appointed. So the Senate could transact no business of importance, and the office of Secretary, and Sergeant-at-Arms, and Door-keeper, and all the important offices of the Senate would continue in Democratic hands. So, very reluctantly, we yielded to the desire of our a.s.sociates.

Whereupon a resolution was adopted continuing the standing Committees for the session as they had come over from the last session, and indeed from the session before, Mr. Davis voting with the Republicans. This vote was pa.s.sed by a majority of two votes. General Logan then introduced the following resolution: That David Davis, a Senator from Illinois, is hereby chosen President pro tempore of the Senate. This was also pa.s.sed by a majority of two votes, Mr. Davis and Mr.

Bayard not voting. Mr. Bayard descended from the elevation he had occupied for so short a time, amid general laughter in which he good-naturedly joined, and Mr. Davis ascended the throne. He made a brief speech which began with this sentence: "The honor just conferred upon me comes, as the seat in this body which I now hold did, without the least expectation on my part. If it carried any party obligation, I should be constrained to decline this high compliment. I do not accept it as a tribute to any personal merit, but rather as a recognition of the independent position which I have long occupied in the politics of the country."

So, it was Mr. Davis's fortune to hold in his hands the determination between the two parties of the political power of the country, on two very grave occasions. But for his choice as Senator from Illinois, he would have been on the Electoral Commission.

I do not think, in so important a matter, that he would have impaired his great judicial fame by dissenting from the opinion which prevailed. But if he had, he would have given the Presidency to Mr. Tilden. And again, but for the arrangement by which he was elected to the Presidency of the Senate, the Republicans would not have gained control, so far as it depended on the Committees.

He did not make a very good presiding officer. He never called anybody to order. He was not informed as to parliamentary law, or as to the rules of the Senate. He had a familiar and colloquial fas.h.i.+on, if any Senator questioned his ruling, of saying, "But, my dear sir"; or, "But, pray consider." He was very irreverently called by somebody, during a rather disorderly scene in the Senate, where he lost control of the reins, the "Anarch old."

But, after all, the office of presiding over the Senate is commonly not of very great consequence. It is quite important that the President of the Senate should be a pleasant-natured gentleman, and the gentleman in the Senator will almost always respond to the gentleman in the Chair. Senators do not submit easily to any vigorous exercise of authority. Vice-Presidents Wheeler, Morton and Stevenson, and more lately, Mr. Frye, a.s.serted their authority with as little show of force as if they were presiding over a company of guests at their own table. But the order and dignity of the body have been preserved.

Mr. Davis's fame must rest on his long and faithful and able service as a wise, conscientious and learned Judge. In writing these recollections, I have dwelt altogether too much on little foibles and weaknesses, which seem to have something amusing in them, and too little, I am afraid, on the greater qualities of the men with whom I have served. This is perhaps true as to David Davis. But I have said very much what I should have said to him, if I had been chatting with him, as I very frequently did, in the cloak room of the Senate.

He was a man of enormous bulk. No common arm chair would hold him. There is a huge chair, said to have been made for Dixon H. Lewis of Alabama, long before the Civil War, which was brought up from the bas.e.m.e.nt of the Capitol for his use.

The newspaper correspondents used to say that he had to be surveyed for a new pair of trousers.

I was one night in the Chair of the Senate when the session lasted to near three o'clock in the morning. It was on the occasion of the pa.s.sage of the bill for purchasing silver.

The night was very dark and stormy and the rain came down in torrents. Just before I put the final question I sent a page for my coat and hat, and, as soon as I declared the Senate adjourned, started for the outer door. There were very few carriages in waiting. I secured one of them and then invited Davis and his secretary and another Senator, when they came along, to get in with me. When we stopped to leave Judge Davis at the National Hotel, where he lived, it was found impossible to get the door of the hack open.

His great weight pressed it down, so that the door was held tight as in a vise. The hackman and the porters pulled on the outside, and the pa.s.sengers pushed and struggled from within; but in vain. After fifteen or twenty minutes, it occurred to some one that we within should all squeeze ourselves over to one side of the carriage, and those outside use their whole strength on the opposite door. This was successful.

We escaped from our prison. As Davis marched into the hotel the hackman exclaimed, as he stared after him: "By G.o.d, I should think you was eight men."

Eli Saulsbury of Delaware was a very worthy Southern gentleman of the old school, of great courage, ability and readiness in debate, absolutely devoted to the doctrines of the Democratic Party, and possessed of a very high opinion of himself. I knew him very intimately. He was Chairman of the Committee on Privileges and Elections, and was a member of it when I was Chairman. We went to New Orleans together to make what was called the Copiah investigation. We used to be fond of talking with each other. He always had a fund of pleasant anecdotes of old times in the South. He liked to set forth his own virtues and proclaim the lofty morality of his own principles of conduct, a habit which he may have got from his eminent colleague, Senator Bayard, who sometimes announced a familiar moral principle as if it were something the people who listened to him were hearing for the first time, and of which he in his youth had been the original discoverer. I once told Saulsbury, when he was discoursing in that way, that he must be descended from Adam by some wife he had before Eve, who had nothing to do with the fall. He was fond of violently denouncing the wicked Republicans on the floor of the Senate, and in Committee. But his bark was worse than his bite.

When the Kellogg case was investigated by the Committee on Privileges and Elections, when I first entered the Senate, Mr. Saulsbury rose in the first meeting of the Committee and proceeded to denounce his Republican a.s.sociates. He declared they came there with their minds made up on the case, a condition of mind which was absolutely unfit for a grave judicial office, in the discharge of which all party considerations and preconceived opinions should be banished.

He said we should have open minds to hear the arguments and the evidence to be introduced, as if it were a solemn trial in a court of justice. When he was in the midst of a very eloquent and violent philippic, the Chairman of the Committee, Bainbridge Wadleigh, said quietly, "Brother Saulsbury, haven't you made up your mind?" Mr. Saulsbury stopped a moment, said, "Yes, I have made up my mind," broke into a roar of laughter, and sat down.

He was a confirmed and incorrigible bachelor. There was in New Orleans, when we were there, a restaurant famous all over the country, kept by a very accomplished widow. The members of the Committee thought it would be a good thing if we could have such a restaurant as that in Was.h.i.+ngton. We pa.s.sed a unanimous vote requesting Mr. Saulsbury to marry the widow, and bring her to Was.h.i.+ngton, as a matter of public duty. He took the plan into consideration, but nothing came of it.

Some mischievous newspaper correspondent circulated a report, which went through the country, that Mr. Saulsbury was very much in love with a lady in Was.h.i.+ngton, also a charming widow.

It was said that he visited her every evening; that she had a rare gift of making rum punch; that she always gave him a gla.s.s, and that afterward, although he was exceedingly temperate in such things, he fell on his knees, offered himself to the widow, and was refused; and that this ceremony had been repeated nightly for many years. I once mentioned this story to him, and he didn't deny it. But, on the other hand, he didn't admit it.

When he was chosen to the Senate he had two brothers who competed with him for the office. One of them was then Senator. The Senate had a good deal of difficulty in getting through its business before the 4th of March, when the new Administration came in, and the term of the elder Mr. Saulsbury ended. There had been an all-night session, so some of the Senators had got worn out and overcome by the loss of sleep. Just before twelve o'clock at noon Senator Willard Saulsbury put his head down on this desk and fell asleep. The Senate was called to order again for the new session, the roll called, and Mr.

Saulsbury's brother Eli had been sworn in. Willard waked up, rose, and addressed the Chair. The presiding officer quietly replied: "The gentleman from Delaware is no longer a member of the Senate." Whereupon he quietly withdrew.

Matthew C. Butler of South Carolina was another Southern Democrat, fiery in temper, impatient of control or opposition, ready to do battle if anybody attacked the South, but carrying anger as the flint bears fire. He was zealous for the honor of the country, and never sacrificed the interest of the country to party or sectional feeling. He was quite unpopular with the people of the North when he entered the Senate, partly from the fact that some of his kindred had been zealous Southern champions before the War, at the time of some very bitter sectional strifes, and because he was charged with having been the leader and counsellor in some violent and unlawful conduct toward the colored people after the War. I have not investigated the matter. But I believe the responsibility for a good deal of what was ascribed to him belonged to another person of the same name. But the Republicans of the Senate came to esteem and value Senator Butler very highly. He deserves great credit, among other things, for his hearty and effective support of the policy of enlarging the Navy, which, when he came into public life, was feeble in strength and antiquated in construction. With his departure from the Senate, and that of his colleague, General Wade Hampton, ended the power in South Carolina of the old gentry who, in spite of some grave faults, had given to that State an honorable and glorious career. When the Spanish War broke out, General Butler was prompt to offer his services, although he had lost a leg in the Civil War.

James B. Beck came into the House of Representatives when I did, in 1869. He served there for six years, was out of public life for two years, and in 1877 came to the Senate when I did.

I do not think any two men ever disliked each other more than we did for the first few years of our service. He hated with all the energy of his Scotch soul,--the _perfervidum ingenium Scotorum,_--everything I believed. He thought the New England Abolitionists had neither love of liberty nor care for the personal or political rights of the negro. Indeed he maintained that the forefathers of the New England abolitionists were guilty of bringing slavery into this continent. He hated the modern New England theological heresies with all the zeal of his Scotch Presbyterian forbears. He hated the Reconstruction policy, which he thought was inspired by a desire to put the white man in the place where the negro had been. He hated with all the energy of a free-trader the protection policy, which he deemed the most unscrupulous robbery on a huge scale.

He considered the gold standard a sort of power press with which the monopolists of the East were trying to squeeze the last drop of blood out of the farmers and workingmen of the South. He thought the public debt was held by men who had paid very little value for it, and who ought to be paid off in the same cheap money which was in vogue when it was originally incurred. He hated New England culture and refinement, which he deemed a very poor crop coming from a barren intellectual soil. He regarded me, I think, as the representative, in a humble way, of all these things, and esteemed me accordingly.

I was not behindhand with him, although I was not quite so frank, probably, in uttering my opinions in public debate.

But I found out, after a little while, that the Northern men who got intimate with him on committees, or in private intercourse, found him one of the most delightful companions, fond of poetry, especially of Burns, full of marvellous stores of anecdotes, without any jot of personal malice, ready to do a kindness to any man, and easily touched by any manifestation of kindly feeling toward him, or toward his Southern neighbors and const.i.tuents.

My colleague, Mr. Dawes, served with him on some of the great committees of the Senate and in the House, and they established a very close and intimate friends.h.i.+p. I came to know Mr.

Beck later. But he had changed his feeling toward me, as I had toward him, long before either found out what the other was thinking about. So one day--it was the time of Mr. Dawes's last reelection to the Senate--he came over to my side of the Chamber, took my hand and said with great emotion: "I congratulate you on the reelection of Mr. Dawes. He is one of my dearest friends, and one of the best men I ever knew in my life." And then, as he turned away, he added: "Mr.

h.o.a.r, I have not known you as well. But I shall the same thing about you, when your reelection takes place."

He had a powerful and vigorous frame, and a powerful and vigorous understanding. It seemed as if neither could ever tire. He used to pour out his denunciation of the greed of the capitalists and monopolists and protectionists, with a fund of statistics which it seemed impossible for the industry of any man to have collected, and at a length which it would seem equally impossible for mortal man to endure. He was equally ready on all subjects. He performed with great fidelity the labor of a member of the Committee on Appropriations, first in the House, and afterward in the Senate. I was the author of a small jest, which half amused and half angered him. Somebody asked in my hearing how it was possible that Mr. Beck could make all those long speeches, in addition to his committee work, or get time for the research that was needed, and how it was ever possible for his mind to get any rest; to which I answered, that he rested his intellect while he was making his speeches. But this was a sorry jest, with very little foundation in fact. Anybody who undertook to debate with him, found him a tough customer. He knew the Bible--especially the Psalms of David--and the poems of Burns, by heart. When he died I think there was no other man left in the Senate, on either side, whose loss would have occasioned a more genuine and profound sorrow.

When I came into the Senate one of the most conspicuous characters in American public life was Oliver P. Morton of Indiana. He had been Governor of Indiana during the War. There was a large and powerful body of Copperheads among the Democrats in that State. They were very different from their brethren in the East. They were ugly, defiant and full of a dangerous activity. Few other men could have dealt with them with the vigor and success of Governor Morton. The State at its elections was divided into two hostile camps. If they did not resort to the weapons of war, they were filled with a hatred and bitterness which does not commonly possess military opponents.

Gov. Morton, in spite of the great physical infirmity which came upon him before the War ended, held the State in its place in the Union with an iron hand. When he came to the Senate he found there no more powerful, brave or unyielding defender of liberty. He had little regard for Const.i.tutional scruples. I do not think it should be said that he would willingly violate his oath to support the Const.i.tution. But he believed that the Const.i.tution should be interpreted in the light of the Declaration of Independence, so as to be the law of life to a great, powerful and free people. To this principle of interpretation, all strict or narrow criticism, founded on its literal meaning, must yield.

His public life was devoted to two supreme objects:

1. Preservation of the Const.i.tutional authority of the Government.