We soon came to a city in Indiana where there was a large crowd to greet him, and following his orders, the train did not stop. He emerged from his drawing-room very angry because the train had not been stopped when a crowd was waiting to hear him. Afterwards we halted at almost every station on the line to Springfield, where we did not arrive until almost dusk. Probably a hundred thousand people had been gathered there during the day, and at least fifty thousand waited until we arrived; but it was so dark that the audience could scarcely see the speaker. He left for Chicago that night, hurrying through that city; hence to Wisconsin, I believe, making enemies rather than friends. He had gained the election by his Western tour, but lost it during his stay in New York City. "Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion," the Delmonico dinner, the old row with Conkling beginning in the Thirty-ninth Congress, caused his defeat. I told him afterwards that if he had broken his leg in Springfield and been compelled to remain as my guest there, he would have been elected. He agreed with me that he would.
Notwithstanding his defeat, however, he continued as one of the foremost leaders of the Republican party up to the time of his death. He might have been nominated at the Chicago Convention, when Mr. Harrison received the nomination the first time had he not retired to Europe, apparently so disgusted at his own defeat four years before that he had not the heart to make the race again.
I do not think Harrison ever did like Blaine, but he invited him to become the Premier of his cabinet, a position which Mr. Blaine had held for a few months under General Garfield. Harrison and Blaine never got along. As I say elsewhere in these recollections, Harrison seemed jealous of Blaine, and Blaine was not true to his chief. Mr. Blaine sent for me one evening, and I called at his house. He related to me with considerable feeling how the President had treated both his family and himself. He urged me to become a candidate for President, but I told him that I would not think of doing so. I afterwards supported Mr. Harrison for reasons personal to myself, and not because I was particularly fond of Mr. Harrison.
James G. Blaine retired to private life and died soon afterwards, a broken, disappointed man. He was one of the greatest men of his day, and was the most brilliant and probably the most popular man with the masses in the history of the Republican party.
Rutherford B. Hayes was the nineteenth President of the United States, and preceded General Garfield in that office. He was neither as great a man nor as great an orator as General Garfield, although he was a much better executive officer, and in my opinion gave a better administration than General Garfield would have given had he served the term for which he was elected. Rutherford B. Hayes was an inconspicuous member of the House, as I recollect him now. He was what I would term a very good, conscientious man, who never made any enemies; but I do not think that any one would say that he was a great man. He did not talk very much in the House, nor accomplish very much. I became quite friendly with him there. Subsequently he was nominated for Governor of Ohio, and he invited me to come to the State and campaign for him, which I did.
Thurman was his opponent, a very strong and able man, who subsequently became a Senator from Ohio, and was a nominee of the Democratic party for Vice-President. But Hayes defeated him for the Governorship, and was once re-elected. He was nominated for President at the Cincinnati Convention of 1876, when Blaine really should have been the nominee, and would have been had the permanent chairman of the convention, Edward McPherson, grasped the situation and held it with a firm hand.
McPherson, while a man of good intentions, earnest and sincere, was Clerk of the House for many years and had occupied what might be termed a subordinate position. The fact of the matter is that he permitted the convention to get away from him; an adjournment was secured, and the same night it was framed up to beat Blaine by nominating Hayes.
Hayes was just the kind of man for a compromise candidate. He was seriously handicapped all through his administration owing to the manner in which he secured the office. The Electoral Commission, an unheard-of thing, created by act of Congress, by eight to seven declared that Hayes was elected over Tilden. Very many people were of the opinion that Tilden was entitled to the office. The Electoral Commission never would have been agreed to by the Democrats had they known that Judge David Davis, of our own State, would retire from the Bench to take a place in the Senate; and it is almost certain that had Judge Davis remained on the bench he would have been a member of the Electoral Commission, and would have surely voted in favor of Tilden, which would have made him President.
While Hayes was President the "green-back craze" seemed to almost take possession of the country. I delivered an address at Rockford, Illinois, before an agricultural society, taking issue to some extent with the public sentiment of the country, and favoring sound money. The President was going through the country at that time on a speaking tour, and in the course of some of his addresses he commended what I had said. He, accompanied by General Sherman, visited Springfield, and I entertained them at the Executive Mansion.
President Hayes, himself realizing the embarrassment under which he entered the office of President, was not a candidate for renomination, and very wisely so. But as I have said, President Hayes was a good man; he made a very commendable record as President of the United States, and he was specially fortunate in the selection of his cabinet, showing rare discrimination in selecting some of the ablest men in the country as his advisers. Evarts was his Secretary of State, and John Sherman Secretary of the Treasury.
It is a rather peculiar coincidence that both James A. Garfield and R. B. Hayes were members of the Ohio delegation in the Thirty- ninth Congress, and both afterwards arrived at the Presidency.
James A. Garfield was a man of extraordinary ability. I was very intimate with him during our service in the House. He was an extremely likable man; I became very fond of him, and I believe the feeling was reciprocated. Also he was distinguished for his eloquence, and I have heard him make some of the most wonderfully stirring and impressive speeches in the House. He was probably not the orator that Robert G. Ingersoll was, but I should say that he was one of the most effective public speakers of his period; his speeches were deeper and more serious, uttered in a graver style than the beautiful poetic imagery of the great agnostic. President Lincoln liked Garfield, and he was one of the younger men in the House who always supported the President, and on whom the President relied. He entered the Thirty-eighth Congress and served many terms. He enjoyed the peculiar distinction of being a member of Congress from Ohio, Senator-elect from Ohio, and President-elect of the United States, all at the same time.
I attended the National Republican Convention of 1880, in whichGrant and Blaine were the leading candidates. I was at the timeGovernor of Illinois and a candidate for re-election myself;consequently I could not take any active part in the contest betweenBlaine and Grant, but of course, naturally, my sympathies were withGeneral Grant.
I was not a delegate to the National Convention, but I attended it, and it so happened that I occupied a room directly opposite that occupied by General Garfield.
One evening, leaving my room, I met General Garfield just as he was leaving his, and we dropped into general conversation and walked along together.
I have always been considered a pretty fair judge of a political situation in State and National conventions, and it struck me as soon as Garfield had completed one of the most eloquent of all his eloquent addresses, placing in nomination Mr. Sherman, that he was the logical candidate before that convention.
To digress for a moment, it is a peculiar coincidence that McKinley made his great reputation, in part, by nominating Mr. Sherman as a candidate for the Presidency in the Minneapolis convention of 1892. Like General Garfield in 1880, Mr. McKinley was perfectly willing to receive the nomination himself, although he was then, as Garfield was in 1880, the leader of the Sherman forces.
But to return. General Garfield and I walked down the hall together, and being very intimate friends, I used to call him by his first name, as he did me. I said: "James, if you will keep a level head, you will be nominated for the Presidency by this convention before it is over." This was a couple of days before he was actually nominated.
He replied: "No, I think not."
But as we walked along together discussing the matter, I contended that I was right.
At the end of that memorable struggle between Grant and Blaine, in which the great Republican party refused to accept General Grant, the foremost Republican and soldier of his time, Garfield was nominated.
I remember vividly the form and features of Garfield in that convention. I see him placing Sherman in nomination, probably not realizing at the time that he was nominating himself. I see him taking an active part in all the debates, and as I look back now I do not think I ever saw a man apparently so affected as General Garfield was when it was announced that he was the nominee of the Republican party for the Presidency of the United States. Seemingly he almost utterly collapsed. He sank into his seat, overcome. He was taken out of the convention and to a room in the Grand Pacific, where I met him a very few minutes afterward.
After General Garfield was elected to the Presidency, but before his inauguration, I determined that I would urge upon him the appointment of Mr. Robert T. Lincoln as a member of his cabinet. I thought then that his selection would not only be an honor to the State, but that the great name of Lincoln, so fresh then in the minds of the people, would materially strengthen General Garfield's administration.
With this purpose in view, I visited Garfield at his home in Mentor. This journey was an extremely difficult one, owing to the circumstance that the snow was yet deep on the ground; so I arranged with the conductor to stop at the nearest point to General Garfield's house to let me off, which he did. I walked from the train through banks of snow, and after the hardest kind of a walk, finally reached his house.
I at once told him the mission on which I had come. We had quite a long talk, at the end of which he announced that he would appoint Mr. Lincoln his Secretary of War.
In this connection I desire to say a few words concerning Robert T. Lincoln. He is still living. I have known him from boyhood. He has the integrity and the character which so distinguished his father, and was marked in his mother's people as well. It is my firm conviction that long ago Robert T. Lincoln could have been President of the United States had he possessed the slightest political aspiration. He has never been ambitious for public office; but, on the contrary, it has always seemed to me that the Presidency was especially repugnant to him, which would be natural, considering the untimely death of his father, if for no other reason. He was almost forced to take an active interest in public affairs, but as soon as he was permitted to do so he retired to private life to engage in large business undertakings, and finally to become the head of the Pullman Company.
It seems strange to me that he should consider the presidency of a private corporation, no matter how great the emoluments, above the Presidency of the greatest of all Republics. How unlike his father! He was a most excellent Secretary of War, and one of General Garfield's cabinet officers whom General Arthur invited to remain in his cabinet, which he did.
Under President Harrison he consented to become Minister to England. Neither my colleague, Senator Farwell, nor I favored this appointment —not because of any antipathy for Mr. Lincoln, for whom I not only have the highest respect and admiration, but like personally as well; but Mr. Blaine, who was Harrison's Secretary of State, called on me one day and asked me to recommend some first-class man from Illinois for the post. After a consultation with my colleague, we determined to recommend an eminent lawyer and cultured gentleman of Chicago, John N. Jewett. We did recommend him, and assumed that his appointment was assured; but Harrison—probably to humiliate Mr. Blaine—called Senator Farwell and me to him one day and announced that he had determined to appoint Robert T. Lincoln Minister to England.
Farwell was extremely angry, and wanted to fight the nomination. However, I counselled moderation. I pointed out that no criticism could be made of Mr. Lincoln, and that since he was my personal friend I could not very well oppose him. So I was glad to favor the appointment, although I was as humiliated as my colleague at the cool manner with which Harrison had snubbed us after Mr. Blaine's overtures.
I recollect very well the telegram which Mr. Lincoln received when he was in Springfield, attending the business of the Pullman Company. It was from his office in Chicago. It stated that there was a letter there that demanded immediate attention, and asked whether it should be forwarded. He gave instructions to forward it to Springfield. It turned out to be the invitation of General Garfield to enter his cabinet as Secretary of War, and asking an immediate reply. He brought it to me in the Governor's office, where he sat down and wrote his reply accepting General Garfield's invitation.
But to return to General Garfield. He was not a strong executive officer. In the brief period in which he occupied the White House, he did not make a good President, and in my judgment would never have made a good one. He vacillated in the disposition of his patronage. When I visited him while he was yet President-elect, he told me that Mr. Conkling would be with him the next day, and asked my advice as to what he should say to him. It was understood that Conkling was coming to protest against the appointment of Blaine as Secretary of State. My advice was to let Mr. Conkling understand that he would appoint whomsoever he pleased as members of his cabinet; that he would run the office of President without fear or favor; and that he would appoint Mr. Blaine as Secretary of State because he considered him the very man best qualified for that high office. Garfield agreed with me, asserting that I had expressed exactly what he intended saying to Conkling; but if we are believe the stories of Senator Conkling's friends, he made far different promises to Senator Conkling in reference to this as also to other appointments.
But the culmination of the trouble between Garfield and Conkling was the appointment of Robertson as Collector of Customs at the Port of New York. The President took the ground, for his own reasons, that the Collector of Customs of New York was a National office, in which every State had an interest, and was not to be considered as Senatorial patronage. Conkling strenuously contended that it was exclusively Senatorial patronage, and in this he was sustained by precedents.
It so happened that I was in Washington when the trouble between Conkling and Garfield was at its height, over the appointment of Robertson. I called to see the President to pay my respects. He asked me if I knew what General Logan would do in reference to the nomination of Mr. Robertson. I told him I did not know, and he asked me if I could find out, and to come to breakfast with him next morning. I did find out that General Logan expected to stand by the President, and I so reported to him next morning.
I bade him good-bye and this was the last time that I ever saw him alive. I attended his funeral at Cleveland, and as I saw his body laid away, I thought of the strange caprice of fate. Was it premonition that made him so sad and castdown—so utterly crushed, as it seemed to me—when he became the Republican candidate for President before that great convention of 1880? Had he not been elected President, he would probably have enjoyed a long, useful, and highly creditable public career. He would have been one of the most distinguished representatives that Ohio ever had in the upper branch of Congress. He was to the most eminent degree fitted for a legislator. In the national halls of Congress his public life had been spent; there he was at home. He was not at all fitted for the position of Chief Executive of the United States. And I say this not in a spirit of hostility, but in the most kindly way, because I loved General Garfield as one of my earliest friends, in those days of long ago, when I served in the Thirty-ninth Congress.
There was no man in the Thirty-ninth Congress with whom I was afterwards so long and intimately associated as I was with the late Senator William B. Allison of Iowa, with whom I served in the Senate for a quarter of a century.
Senator Allison was quite a prominent member of the House when I entered Congress, and was serving then as a member of the important Ways and Means Committee. He was regarded as one of the ablest and most influential of the Western members.
From the very earliest time I knew him, Senator Allison was an authority on matters pertaining to finance. While he was in favor of a protective tariff, he was not particularly a high-tariff advocate; he, and the late General Logan who was then in the House, and I worked together on tariff matters, as against the high-tariff advocates, led by General Schenck.
On one occasion we defeated a high-tariff proposition that General Schenck was advocating. He was furious, and rising up in his place, declared:
"I might as well move to lay the bill on the table and to write as its epitaph—'nibbled to death by pismires!'"
The remark made General Logan terribly angry; but Senator Allison, who had a quiet, keen sense of humor, and I were very much amused, —as much at the fury of Logan as at the remark of Schenck.
As a member of the House, Senator Allison followed the more radical element against President Johnson. He was much more radical than I was in those days, and he attacked President Johnson repeatedly on the floor of the House, in tone and manner utterly unlike himself when later he served in the Senate.
In the upper body he was decidedly a conservative. He never committed himself until he was absolutely certain. He was always regarded as a wise man, and he exercised an extraordinary control over members, in settling troublesome questions and bringing about harmony in the Senate. He had powerful influence, not only with members of his own party, but with members of the opposition. Every one had confidence in him. His statements were accepted without question. He never attempted oratory, but by cool statement of facts he moulded the opinions of legislators. He was one of those even tempered, level-headed, sound, sensible men to whom we naturally turned when there were difficult questions to settle.
There has been no man in our history who had a longer or more distinguished public career, and I do not know of any man who was more often invited to enter the cabinets of different Presidents than was Senator Allison. The Secretaryship of the Treasury was urged and almost forced upon him repeatedly. I visited Indianapolis to see the President-elect, Mr. Harrison, and it so happened that Senator Allison and I entered together, Mr. Harrison having sent for him. I saw Harrison first, and he told me that he was going to ask Senator Allison to become his Secretary of the Treasury. I assured him that I was confident that he would decline the office —an assertion that occasioned much surprise, even a display of temper. Mr. Harrison seemed to think that it was Senator Allison's duty to accept the place. When Senator Allison saw him a short time later, the office was tendered him and he promptly declined to accept it. Nothing that Mr. Harrison could do or say would induce him to change his mind.
Mr. McKinley was anxious to have Senator Allison in his cabinet, and I do not think I shall be violating any confidence, now that they are both dead, in saying that in declining the appointment Allison urged McKinley, as he afterwards told me, to appoint me as Secretary of the Treasury, and McKinley gave him so strong an assurance that he intended to invite me to enter his cabinet, that when Allison saw me in Washington at the beginning of the session, I being a member of his Committee on Appropriations, he said: "Cullom, you are to enter the cabinet; now you will not be able to do much work on the Appropriations Committee, and you had better devote your time to getting your affairs in shape preparing to leave the Senate and become Secretary of the Treasury."
I had urged President McKinley to beg Senator Allison to enter his cabinet. Coming from the source that Allison's assurance did, I naturally took it more or less seriously, but I did not give the matter much thought.
The nearest that Mr. McKinley came to inviting me to enter the cabinet, was an inquiry he made of me, which position I would prefer in a cabinet, Secretary of State or Secretary of the Treasury. I replied that, personally, I should prefer the Treasury, as I had at that time no particular interest or training in foreign affairs. I know now that Mr. McKinley did fully intend to tender to me the Treasury portfolio, and I also know, but I do not feel at liberty at this time to reveal, the influence in Illinois which induced him to change his mind. I am very glad now that the position was not tendered to me, as I might have accepted it, because of the known desire of certain friends in this State to secure my seat in the Senate, in which event I should have been long since retired to private life.
Senator Allison was the trusted adviser of President after President —Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Arthur, Harrison, McKinley, Roosevelt all called upon him. There was no Senator who had to a greater extent their confidence. Had he lived he would have been as close, if not closer to President Taft. He served in the Senate longer than any other man in all our history. He broke Benton's long record. He broke the long record of Senator Morrill. He served eight years in the House and more than thirty-five years in the Senate, a total of forty-three years and five months in Congress. For forty-three years the history of his life embodies the complete financial legislative history of the United States.
Another conspicuous member of the Thirty-ninth Congress was Nathaniel P. Banks of Massachusetts. He had a long, varied, and interesting career, both in public and private life. He was many times elected to Congress from Massachusetts, and in 1856, after a long contest which lasted more than two months, was elected Speaker of the House of Representatives. He was Governor of his State, and in 1861, for a short time, president of the Illinois Central Railroad, from which position he resigned to enter the Union army as a major- general, serving throughout the war.
I did not know him when he was stationed at Chicago but I became very well acquainted with him in Congress. He was Chairman of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, of which committee I was a member. Not only was General Banks a polite, agreeable man, but he was an exceptionally effective speaker, and very popular in the House.
There occurs to me a little controversy which he had with the lateSenator Dawes, who was at that time a member of the House fromMassachusetts.
General Banks was undertaking to pass a bill to which Mr. Dawes objected. Banks was nettled. Taking the floor, he accused his colleague of always objecting to bills he attempted to pass. Dawes arose in his place, and in the most ponderous fashion, turned to Banks.
"I appeal to my colleague," he asked, "when did I ever before object to any bill which he was attempting to pass?"
Banks jumped to his feet, and said in his high-pitched voice: "I do not know that my colleague ever did, but I always thought that he was just about to."
General Banks served during the six years that I was a member of the House, and several terms afterwards, his public service ending with the Fifty-first Congress. He died at his home in Massachusetts, in 1894.
Daniel W. Voorhees was another celebrated member of the Thirty- ninth Congress, and was later a Senator from Indiana. Senator Voorhees was a very able man and a zealous, consistent Democrat. He was charged, and I have no doubt at all that it was true, with being a Rebel sympathizer, and a prominent member of the Knights of the Golden Circle. A fine, gifted speaker, a kind-hearted gentleman, he was very popular with the people of Indiana. Dan Voorhees and Thomas A. Hendricks, who was afterward Vice-President of the United States, were the two most prominent Democrats of Indiana in all its history, and indeed were two of the foremost Democrats of the North.
Senator Voorhees' seat, as a member of the House in the Thirty- ninth Congress, was successfully contested; and I can see him now, with his imposing presence, making his final speech in the House, after the result of the contest had become known. Garbed in a long cloak, he defended his right to his seat with the greatest dignity. The vote was taken; his opponent was seated; then he drew his cloak about him, and with the air of a king, walked out of the House, almost triumphantly. I had voted against him, but the dignity with which he carried off the occasion certainly commanded my deepest admiration.
He was a great admirer of Mr. Lincoln. He knew him well; had been associated with him in many lawsuits on the circuit, at Danville, and in the eastern part of the State; and although they belonged to opposing political parties, he evinced for Lincoln a very warm feeling.
Senator Voorhees once told me a rather interesting story in connection with President Lincoln. It was the occasion of the dedication of what was known as the Foundery Methodist Church in Washington. Mr. Lincoln was present, Voorhees was there, and Bishop Simpson delivered the dedicatory address. The bishop was an eloquent speaker and his sermon was a characteristic one. The President was seated in an armchair in front of the pulpit, with his back to the minister, and after the sermon was over, an effort was at once made to raise funds to pay the debt of the church. This phase of the meeting was tiresomely protracted, the minister, in the customary style, earnestly urging an unresponsive congregation to contribute until nearly every inducement had been exhausted. Finally someone started a movement to raise a certain definite amount of money, the achievement of which would make the President a life member of some church society. But even this scheme was not accepted with much enthusiasm, and Bishop Simpson renewed his plea for donations. At last Mr. Lincoln, who had been growing tired and bored at the performance, craned his head around toward Bishop Simpson, and said in a tone that everybody heard: "Simpson, if you will stop this auction I will pay the money myself."
And since Bishop Simpson's name has been mentioned, another incident in which he figured is suggested, which might as well be related here.
In the Methodist Church Bishop Simpson's name is a household word. He was one of its most prominent divines, and in sympathy with that branch which remained loyal to the Union. Naturally he was a great admirer of Mr. Lincoln—in fact, so close was he to the President that it was his influence that secured the appointment of Senator Harlan of Iowa as Secretary of the Interior. What follows will demonstrate that this statement is not made on hearsay.
Several prominent men of Illinois, and other parts of the country, were in Washington trying to secure the appointment of Uncle Jesse K. Dubois (the father of Senator Dubois of Idaho who served in the United States Senate two terms with great credit to himself and State), as Secretary of the Interior. Uncle Jesse Dubois was there himself, and we all met one evening at the National Hotel, at which meeting I was designated to go to the White House and use my influence with President Lincoln in Uncle Jesse's behalf. Uncle Jesse had no business coming to Washington when he was being pushed for a cabinet office; but he did, nevertheless, and he was not in good health. About ten o'clock at night I saw the President, and laid before him Uncle Jesse's claims. His reply was:
"I cannot appoint him. I must appoint Senator Harlan. I promised Bishop Simpson to do so. The Methodist Church has been standing by me very generally; I agreed with Bishop Simpson to give Senator Harlan this place, and I must keep my agreement. I would like to take care of Uncle Jesse, but I do not see that I can as a member of my cabinet."
I replied: "If you have determined it, that is the end of the matter, and I shall so report to the friends who are gathered at the National, so that Uncle Jesse may go on home."
President Lincoln seemed much affected. He followed me to the door, repeating that he would like to take care of Uncle Jesse, but could not do so.
Jesse Dubois went home to Springfield, but he remained as stanch a friend to Lincoln as ever, and was one of the committee sent from Springfield to accompany the remains of the immortal President to their last resting-place.
George S. Boutwell was another member of the Thirty-ninth Congress who merits some attention. He afterward became very influential among the radical element, and was one of the managers on the part of the House in the impeachment of President Johnson. It is hard to understand in a man of his sober, sound sense; but I am convinced that he firmly believed President Johnson to have been a conspirator in securing the assassination of Mr. Lincoln. He was Secretary of the Treasury under President Grant, who had for him the greatest respect and confidence. I never was very intimate with him, but I knew him fairly well, and considered him one of the leading public men of Massachusetts of his day.
One of the leading members of the Pennsylvania delegation in the Thirty-ninth Congress was William D. Kelley. He was a prominent member of the House, a good speaker, although he always prepared his addresses at great length, principally on the tariff; but he did not confine himself to his manuscripts entirely. His specialty in Congress was the tariff. He was called "Pig-iron Kelley" because he was for high duties on pig-iron and, in fact, everything manufactured in Pennsylvania. That State, as everybody knows, is the great iron and steel manufacturing State of the Union, and its representatives in Congress were in that day, as they are in this, the highest of high protective tariff advocates.
Before entering Congress, William D. Kelley for a number of years had been a judge of one of the more important courts of Philadelphia. He was elected to and kept in the House, without any particular effort on his own part, because he was considered one of the most valuable men in Congress in matters pertaining to the tariff. When I was a candidate for re-election to the House he visited my district and made several very able speeches for me at my request, and, with his wife, was my guest in Springfield for several days. At that time Republicans were for a high protective tariff, and it was not considered then, as it seems to be in these days of so-called insurgency, a crime for a Republican to stand up and say that he was in favor of high tariff duties. In any event, Judge Kelley did me much good in the speeches he made in my district.
We occupied apartments in the same house in Washington—on F Street near the Ebbitt House, at which hotel we took our meals. F Street is now the heart of the business centre, but it was then one of the principal residence streets, and many Representatives and Senators lived in that vicinity. The only objection I had to living in the same house with Judge Kelley was that he was always preparing speeches, and when he got ready to deliver a speech he would insist on reading it all over to me; and as his speeches were generally two or three hours long, and always on the tariff, in which I did not take an extraordinary amount of interest, I became pretty tired of hearing them.
On one occasion when he was making quite an eloquent speech in the House, he was interrupted by a member from Kentucky, whose name I do not remember. He had already answered him once or twice and then gone on. He was interrupted again, and this time he answered: "Oh, don't interrupt me when the glow is on." The "glow" did happen to be on at that time, and naturally he did not desire to be interrupted.
In the same Pennsylvania delegation there were two members named Charles O'Neill and Leonard Myers, who were very short in stature. For some reason or other, some wag dubbed them "Kelley's ponies." They heard of it and became very angry, and on every occasion, when there was half a chance, they watched to see how Judge Kelley voted and would then vote the opposite.
They were both good men and good Republicans, and O'Neill served the same number of terms as Judge Kelley—fifteen—but O'Neill remained his full fifteen terms and retired from Congress. Judge Kelley was serving his fifteenth term when he died in Washington, in 1890.
Samuel J. Randall was one of the prominent Democrats of his day; but strange to say he favored a protective tariff. He also served about fifteen terms, two of them in the Speaker's chair. He had an anxious solicitude for the success of his party, and made many political speeches. He was a young member when I first knew him, away back in the sixties, but even then he occupied an influential position.
I remember meeting him in Mr. Blaine's office one day, when the latter was Secretary of State, and Mr. Blaine not being in, we sat on the settee and had a talk. He was in poor health, but curious respecting the relations between President Harrison and his party. I told him they were not getting along very well; that he satisfied his party about as well as Mr. Cleveland satisfied his when he was in the White House.
"I think," he observed, "he is better than our President. We never could do much with Cleveland." Then he added this characteristic remark: "If you want an army to fight, you must feed it. It is the same with a political party: if a party is to take care of itself, its workers must be recognized in the distribution of its patronage."
I never saw Samuel J. Randall afterwards.
Judge Godlove S. Orth was one of my most intimate friends in the House of Representatives. He was a splendid man, and was regarded as an honorable and able member. He and I saw much of each other every day, as we roomed in the same neighborhood and generally visited the departments together. We were seen with each other so often on the streets, in fact, that when we were separated, friends would ask either one or the other of us: "What has become of your partner?" At one time I canvassed his district for him and he was re-elected.
He had a peculiar name, "Godlove." I never heard of a man named Godlove, either before or since. The story was told of a lady sitting in the gallery, listening to the proceedings of the House. She could not hear very well. When the roll was being called, and she heard the name "Godlove" called by the clerk, she did not understand it; she wend down stairs and told her friends that the House of Representatives was a most pious body; that every time they called the roll, and the clerk got about half way through, he would stop and exclaim: "God love us all!"
Judge Orth has been dead for many years, but I have always remembered with great pleasure our friendship when we served as colleagues in the House, nearly half a century ago.
Oakes Ames of Boston was a prominent member of the House. He had charge of the Union Pacific Railroad construction, and it was charged—and proven, I believe, afterwards—that he secured the concessions for the railroad by undue influence,—the use of money, gifts of stock, etc.,—and the whole thing finally culminated in what is known as theCrédit Mobilierscandal, the exposure of which came after I retired from the House.
Ames was a member of the Thirty-eighth, Thirty-ninth, Fortieth, Forty-first, and Forty-second Congresses, and I knew him very well during my six years' service. I was made chairman of the Committee on Territories in the Forty-first Congress, by Mr. Blaine, who was then Speaker. Ames annoyed me very much by coming to me almost every day in the interest of legislation in the Territories affecting the Union Pacific, and I asked him one day, being a little out of temper, whether he was so absorbed in the Pacific Railroad that he had not time to devote to anything else. He made some light rejoinder; sometime later the exposure came, and I found that he was engaged in most unfortunate and unlawful practices in securing legislation in the interest of his road.
I never believed that Oakes Ames was naturally a dishonest man, but the proof was against him, and the scandal resulted in his death, as it also did in the death of James Brooks, of New York, and the ruination of other public men.
I knew S. S. Cox ("Sunset" Cox, as he was called), as a member of the Forty-first Congress. He had served in some previous Congress as a member from Ohio; but when I knew him he was serving as a member from New York.
Cox was an able man, as a speaker, a writer, and a diplomat. He was always listened to with great respect and attention when he addressed the House, but a considerable amount of fun was poked at him after a certain occasion when he had interrupted General Butler a time or two in debate, and the General, finally losing patience, replied to one of his questions with the admonition: "Shoo, fly, don't bodder me!" I was present at the time; the galleries were filled, as they always were in those days; and when General Butler uttered this reproof the whole House, galleries, and floor, was in an uproar, maintaining the confusion for some minutes. When it seemed like subsiding, it would break out again and again, and so it continued for quite a while. When order was finally restored Cox undertook to reply; but he could not do so. He had been so crippled by the response of the audience to Butler's remark that he never recovered from it.
Cox was a splendid man. He always thought in those days that he had not been quite appreciated by his friends in the Democratic party, and they thought the same way; but he was so good-humored, and such a whole-souled man and so fond of wit that he really never did get what he was entitled to.
I was trying to pass a bill which I had prepared for the purpose of prohibiting and wiping out polygamy in Utah. I had reported the bill from the Committee on Territories, and I was doing my best to pass it. For some reason or other (afterwards I learned it was an ulterior reason to help out a friend), General Schenck undertook to defeat the measure, and for this purpose he asked to have it referred to the Committee on Judiciary. This committee probably had jurisdiction over the subject; I did not think so at the time, and believed that such a reference would kill the bill. He seemed to be making some headway with the Republicans, when Cox came over to me from the Democratic side of the House, and proposed that if I would yield to him for five minutes he would help me to pass the bill. I told him to go back to his seat and that I would yield to him directly. When I did Cox took the floor, and to my utter astonishment he denounced the bill as the most outrageous bill that had ever been brought before the House, declaring in the most spirited manner that of course it ought to be referred to the Judiciary Committee, because every one knew that such a reference would kill it.
But he was shrewder than I apprehended at the moment. His talk had the desired effect, for the Republicans who had been following Schneck determined that they would not be responsible for killing the bill; they came back to me, and the measure was passed through the House by a substantial majority.
As I look back now over the vista of years that have come and gone, it seems to me that I entered the Lower House of Congress just at the beginning of the most important period in all our history. The great President had been assassinated; the war was over; Andrew Johnson, a Union Democrat, was President of the United States. Reconstruction was the problem which confronted us, how to heal up the Nation's wounds and remake a Union which would endure for all time to come. These were the difficult conditions that had to be dealt with by the Thirty-ninth Congress.
Andrew Johnson was the queerest character that ever occupied the White House, and, with the exception of Lincoln only, he entered it under the most trying and difficult circumstances in all our history; but Lincoln had, what Johnson lacked, the support and confidence of the great Republican party. Johnson was never a Republican, and never pretended to be one. He was a lifelong Democrat, and a slave-holder as well; but he was loyal to the Union, no man living more so. As a Senator from Tennessee, alone of all the Southern Senators he faced his colleagues from the South in denouncing secession as treason. His subsequent phenomenal course in armed opposition to the rebellion brought about his nomination for the Vice-Presidency as a shrewd stroke to secure the support of the War Democrats of the North and the Union men of his State and section.
He came to the Presidency under the cloud of President Lincoln's assassination, when the majority of the North believed that a Southern conspiracy had laid the great President low. The seceding States hated him as a traitor to his own section; the North distrusted him as a Democrat. At first I believe the very radical element of the Republican party in Congress, led by old Ben Wade of Ohio, than whom there was no more unsafe man in either house of Congress, were disposed, if not openly to rejoice, which they dared not do, to see with some secret satisfaction the entrance of Johnson into the White House. It is well known that Wade did say in his first interview with President Johnson, when, as a member of the committee on the conduct of the war, he waited on him, "Johnson, we have faith in you. By the gods, there will be no more trouble in running the Government."
I have already, in another chapter, described the scene which took place in the Senate chamber when Johnson was inducted into office as Vice-President; the exhibition he made of himself at the time of taking the oath of office, in the presence of the President of the United States and the representatives of the Governments of the world. All this, advertised at the time in the opposition press, added to the prejudice against Johnson in the North and made his position more trying and difficult.
There were two striking points in Johnson's character, and I knew him well: First, his loyalty to the Union; and, second, his utter fearlessness of character. He could not be cowed; old Ben Wade, Sumner, Stevens, all the great leaders of that day could not, through fear, influence him one particle.
In 1861, when he was being made the target of all sorts of threats on account of his solitary stand against secession in the Senate, he let fall this characteristic utterance:
"I want to say, not boastingly, with no anger in my bosom, that these two eyes of mine have never looked upon anything in the shape of mortal man that this heart has feared."
This utterance probably illustrates Johnson's character more clearly than anything that I could say. He sought rather than avoided a fight. Headstrong, domineering, having fought his way in a State filled with aristocratic Southerners, from the class of so-called "low whites" to the highest position in the United States, he did not readily yield to the dictates of the dominating forces in Congress.
Lincoln had a well-defined policy of reconstruction. Indeed, so liberal was he disposed to be in his treatment of the Southern States, that immediately after the surrender of Richmond he would have recognized the old State Government of Virginia had it not been for the peremptory veto of Stanton. Congress was not in session when Johnson came to the Presidency in April, 1865. To do him no more than simple justice, I firmly believe that he wanted to follow out, in reconstruction, what he thought was the policy of Mr. Lincoln, and in this he was guided largely by the advice of Mr. Seward.
But there was this difference. Johnson was, probably in good faith, pursuing the Lincoln policy of reconstruction; but when the Legislatures and Executives of the Southern States began openly passing laws and executing them so that the negro was substantially placed back into slavery, practically nullifying the results of the awful struggle, the untold loss of life and treasure, Mr. Lincoln certainly would have receded and would have dealt with the South with an iron hand, as Congress had determined to do, and as General Grant was compelled to do when he assumed the Presidency.
From April to the reassembling of Congress in December, Johnson had a free hand in dealing with the seceded States, and he was not slow to take advantage of it. He seemed disposed to recognize the old State Governments; to restrict the suffrage to the whites; to exercise freely the pardoning power in the way of extending executive clemency not only to almost all classes, but to every individual who would apply for it. The result was, it seemed to be certain that if the Johnson policy were carried out to the fullest extent, the supremacy of the Republican party in the councils of the Nation would be at stake.
To express it in a word, the motive of the opposition to the Johnson plan of reconstruction was the firm conviction that its success would wreck the Republican party, and by restoring the Democrats to power bring back Southern supremacy and Northern vassalage. The impeachment, in a word, was the culmination of the struggle between the legislative and the executive departments of the Government over the problem of reconstruction. The legislative department claimed exclusive jurisdiction over reconstruction; the executive claimed that it alone was competent to deal with the subject.
This is a very brief summary of the conditions which confronted us when I entered the Thirty-ninth Congress. Representatives of the eleven seceding States were there to claim their seats in Congress. The Republican members met in caucus the Saturday evening preceding the meeting of Congress on Monday. I, as a member-elect, was present, and I remember how old Thaddeus Stevens at once assumed the dominating control in opposition to the President's plan. Stevens was a most remarkable character,—one of the most remarkable in the legislative history of the United States. He believed firmly in negro equality and negro suffrage. As one writer eloquently expresses it:
"According to his creed, the insurgent States were conquered provinces to be shaped into a paradise for the freedman and a hell for the rebel. His eye shot over the blackened southern land; he saw the carnage, the desolation, the starvation, and the shame; and like a battered old warhorse, he flung up his frontlet, sniffed the tainted breeze, and snorted 'Ha, Ha!'"
It was at once determined by the Republican majority in Congress that the representatives of the eleven seceding States should not be admitted. The Constitution expressly gives to the House and Senate the exclusive power to judge of the admission and qualification of its own members.
We were surprised at the moderation of the President's message, which came in on Tuesday after Congress assembled. In tone and general character the message was wholly unlike Johnson. It was an admirable state document, one of the finest from a literary and probably from every other standpoint that ever came from an Executive to Congress. It was thought at the time that Mr. Seward wrote it, but it has since been asserted that it was the product of that foremost of American historians, J. C. Bancroft, one of Mr. Johnson's close personal friends.
There existed three theories of dealing with the Southern States: one was the President's theory of recognizing the State Governments, allowing the States to deal with the suffrage question as they might see fit; the Stevens policy of wiping out all State lines and dealing with the regions as conquered military provinces; and the Sumner theory of treating them as organized territories, recognizing the State lines.
Johnson dealt in a masterful manner with the subject in his message.He said:
"States, with proper limitations of power, are essential to the existence of the Constitution of the United States.
"The perpetuity of the Constitution bring with it the perpetuity of the States; their mutual relations makes us what we are, and in our political system this connection is indissoluble. The whole cannot exist without the parts nor the parts without the whole. So long as the Constitution of the United States endures, the States will endure; the destruction of the one is the destruction of the other; the preservation of the one is the preservation of the other.
"The true theory is that all pretended acts of secession were, from the beginning, null and void. The States cannot commit treason, nor screen the individual citizens who may have committed treason, any more than they can make valid treaties or engage in lawful commerce with any foreign power. The States attempting to secede placed themselves in a condition where their vitality was impaired but not extinguished, their functions suspended but not destroyed."
It was but the Johnson theory which we presented to the world, denying the right of any State to secede; asserting the perpetuity, the indissolubility of the Union.
But the question was, whether the members from the seceding States should be admitted to the Senate and House; and he dealt with this most difficult problem in a statesmanlike way. He said:
"The amendment to the Constitution being adopted, it would remain for the States whose powers have been so long in abeyance, to resume their places in the two branches of the National Legislature, and thereby complete the work of restoration. Here it is for you, fellow citizens of the Senate, and for you, fellow citizens of the House of Representatives, to judge, each of you for yourselves, of the elections, returns and qualifications of your own members."
On the suffrage question, he said:
"On the propriety of making freedmen electors by proclamation of the Executive, I took for my counsel the Constitution itself, the interpretations of that instrument by its authors, and their contemporaries, and the recent legislation of Congress. They all unite in inculcating the doctrine that the regulation of the suffrage is a power exclusively for the States. So fixed was this reservation of power in the habits of the people, and so unquestioned has been the interpretation of the Constitution, that during the Civil War the late President never harbored the purpose,—certainly never avowed it,—of disregarding it; and in acts of Congress nothing can be found to sanction any departure by the Executive from a policy which has so uniformly obtained."
Aside from the worst radicals, the message pleased every one, the country at large and the majority in Congress; and there was a general disposition to give the President a reasonably free hand in working out his plan of reconstruction. But as I stated, the Legislatures of the Southern States and their Executives assumed so domineering an attitude, practically wiping out the results of the war, that the Republican majority in Congress assumed it to be its duty to take control from the Executive.
What determined Johnson in his course, I do not know. It was thought that he would be a radical of radicals. Being of the "poor white" class, he may have been flattered by the attentions showered on him by the old Southern aristocrats. Writers of this period have frequently given that as a reason. My own belief has been that he was far too strong a man to be governed in so vital a matter by so trivial a cause. My conviction is that the radical Republican leaders in the House were right; that he believed in the old Democratic party, aside from his loyalty to the Union; and was a Democrat determined to turn the Government over to the Democratic party, reconstructed on a Union basis.
I cannot undertake to go into all the long details of the memorable struggle. As I look back over the history of it now, it seems to me to bear a close resemblance to the beginning of the French Revolution, to the struggle between the States General of France and Louis XVI. Might we not, if things had turned differently, drifted into chaos and revolution? If Johnson had been impeached and refused to submit, adopting the same tactics as did Stanton in retaining the War Department; had Ben Wade taken the oath of office and demanded possession, Heaven only knows what might have been the result.
But reminiscing in this way, as I cannot avoid doing when I think back over those terrible times, I lose the continuity of my subject.
An extension to the Freedman's Bureau bill was passed, was promptly vetoed by the Executive, the veto was as promptly overruled by the House, where there was no substantial opposition, but the Senate failed to pass the bill, the veto of the President to the contrary notwithstanding.
I had not the remotest idea that Johnson would dare to veto the Freedman's Bureau bill, and I made a speech on the subject, declaring a firm conviction to that effect. A veto at that time was almost unheard of. Except during the administration of Tyler, no important bill had ever been vetoed by an Executive. It came as a shock to Congress and the country. Excitement reigned supreme. The question was: "Should the bill pass the veto of the President regardless thereof?"
Not the slightest difficulty existed in the House; Thaddeus Stevens had too complete control of that body to allow any question concerning it there. The bill, therefore, was promptly passed over the veto of the President.
But the situation in the Senate was different. At this time the Sumner-Wade radical element did not have the necessary two-thirds majority, and the bill failed to pass over the veto of the President. The war between the executive and legislative departments of the Government had fairly commenced, and the first victory had been won by the President.
The Civil Rights bill, drawn and introduced by Judge Trumbull, than whom there was no greater lawyer in the United States Senate, in January, 1866, on the reassembling of Congress, was passed. Then began the real struggle on the part of the radicals in the Senate, headed by Sumner and Wade, to muster the necessary two-thirds majority to pass a bill over the veto of the President.
Let me digress here to say a word in reference to Charles Sumner. For ten years he was chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee of the United States Senate, and no man, by education, experience, knowledge of world politics, and travel, was ever more fitted to occupy that high position. He was one of the most cultivated men of his day, a radical, and filled one of the most important places in the history of his time. When he entered the Senate, the South dominated this Government; the great triumvirate, Webster, Clay, and Calhoun, had just passed. The day he entered, Clay for the last time, feeble, emaciated, appeared on the Senate floor. Compromise was the word, and the Southerners so dominated that it was considered treason to mention the slavery question. Charles Sumner was an abolitionist; he was not afraid, and at the very first opportunity he took the floor and denounced the institution in no unmeasured terms. Chase and Seward were present that day, and quickly followed Sumner's lead. Seward, however, was far more conservative than either Sumner or Chase.
It was the mission of Charles Sumner to awake the public conscience to the horrors of slavery. He performed his duty unfalteringly, and it almost cost him his life. Mr. Lincoln was the only man living who ever managed Charles Sumner, or could use him for his purpose. Sumner's end has always seemed to me most pitiful. Removed from his high position as chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee of the Senate, followed relentlessly by the enmity of President Grant, than at the very acme of his fame; drifting from the Republican party, his own State repudiating him, Charles Sumner died of a broken heart.
But to return to the struggle between the President and Congress. Trumbull, Sumner, Wade, and the leaders were bound in one way or another to get the necessary two-thirds. The vote was taken in the Senate: "Shall the Civil Rights bill pass the veto of the President to the contrary notwithstanding?" It was well understood that the vote would be very close, and the result uncertain.
The excitement was intense. The galleries were crowded; members of the House were on the Senate floor. The result seemed to depend entirely upon the vote of Senator Morgan, of New York, and he seemed to be irresolute, uncertain in his own mind which way he would vote. The call of the roll proceeded. When his name was reached there was profound silence. He first voted nay, and then immediately changed to yea. A wonderful demonstration burst forth as it was then known that the bill would pass over the veto of the President, and that the Republican party in Congress at last had complete control. Senator Trumbull made a remarkable speech on that occasion, and I was never prouder of any living man.
So the struggle went on from day to day and year to year, growing all the time more intense. I have always been disposed to be conservative; I was then; and it was with profound regret that I saw the feeling between the President and Congress becoming more and more strained.
I disliked to follow the extreme radical element, and when the row was at its height, Judge Orth, a colleague in the House from Indiana, and I concluded to go and see the President and advise with him, in an attempt to smooth over the differences. I will never forget that interview. It was at night. He received us politely enough, and without mincing any words he gave us to understand that we were on a fool's errand and that he would not yield. We went away, and naturally joined the extreme radicals in the House, always voting with them afterwards.
The row continued in the Fortieth Congress. Bills were passed, promptly vetoed, and the bills immediately passed over the President's veto. Many of the bills were not only unwise legislation but were unconstitutional as well. We passed the Tenure of Office bill; we attempted to restrict the President's pardoning power; and as I look back over the history of the period, it seems to me that we did not have the slightest regard for the Constitution. Some of President Johnson' veto messages were admirable. He had the advice and assistance of one of the ablest lawyers of his day, Jeremiah Black.
To make the feeling more intense, just about this time Johnson made his famous "swing around the circle," as it was termed. His speeches published in the opposition press were intemperate and extreme. He denounced Congress. He threatened to "kick people out of office," in violation of the Tenure of Office act. He was undignified in his actions and language, and many people thought he was intoxicated most of the time, although I do not believe this.
The radicals in both the House and Senate determined that he should be impeached and removed from office. They had the votes in the House easily, and they thought they could muster the necessary number in the Senate, as we had been passing all sorts of legislation over the President's veto. When the subject was up, I was doubtful, and I really believe, strong Republican that I was, that had it not been for Judge Trumbull I would have voted against the impeachment articles. I advised with the Judge, for whom I had profound respect. I visited him at his house. I explained to him my doubts, and I recall very clearly the expression he used in reply. He said: "Johnson is an obstruction to the Government and should be removed." Judge Trumbull himself changed afterwards, much to the astonishment of every one, and denounced the impeachment proceeding as unworthy of a justice of the peace court.
It seems to me difficult to realize that it was as far back as March 2, 1868, that I addressed the House in favor of the impeachment articles. I think I made a pretty good speech on that occasion and supported my position very well. I took rather an extreme view in favor of the predominance of the legislative department of the Government, contending that the executive and judiciary departments of the Government, while they are finally responsible to the people, are directly accountable to the legislative department.
The first and principal article in the impeachment proposed by the House was the President's issuance of an order removing Edwin M. Stanton as Secretary of War, he having been duly appointed and commissioned by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, and the Senate having been in session at the time of his removal.
I contended then, on the floor of the House, that such a removal was a violation of the Constitution and could not be excused on any pretext whatever, in addition to being a direct violation of the Tenure of Office act.
I do not intend to go into the details of the various articles proposed by the House; suffice it to say that they were mainly based on the attempted removal of Mr. Stanton, and the appointment of Mr. Thomas as Secretary of War.
I was very serious in concluding my speech. My words were:
"Mr. Chairman: The administration of Mr. Johnson since he became President of the United States has been characterized by an utter disregard of the laws and Constitution of the United States. And, sir, I am of the opinion that there should be another article adopted by this House, and sent to the Senate, upon which he should be tried, the substance of which should be that Andrew Johnson, President of the United States, is guilty of high crimes in office, in that he violated the Constitution and laws of the United States, by using his influence, patronage and power of said office to hinder, delay and prevent a restoration of the States lately in rebellion against the Government, to their proper practical relations to the Union. Congress provided by law for the reconstruction of the rebel States. The President, from whatever motives it matters not, stands in his Executive Office, and by all his influence and power opposes restoration according to law. As an Executive Officer, he has no such right, and his opposition to the laws of Congress on the subject of reconstruction has cost this Nation thousands of loyal men who have been murdered in the South on account of their devotion to the Flag, and millions of money which is to be added to the enormous public debt to be cast upon the necks of the people. Shall the Nation endure it longer? Shall we struggle on and on until the welcome day comes when his term shall expire? The people say 'No'; men struggling in business say 'No'; men longing for peace and harmony in the land say 'No'; the loyal men of the South, who have been abused and hunted by wicked rebels, say 'No'; and I trust that the answer of all these may be the answer of this House to-day, and the answer of the Senate of the United States within a reasonable time after these articles shall be sent to them."
Needless for me to say, that as the subject continued feeling remained at a high pitch in the House. It was debated from day to day. Stevens was urging the impeachment with all the force at his command; some were doubtful and holding back, as I was; some changed —for instance, James G. Blaine, who was taunted by Stevens and sneered at for his change of front.
Under the law then existing the President of the Senate succeeded a Vice-President who became, by the death or removal of the President, President of the United States. The radicals in complete control —and I have no doubt that Stevens had a hand in it—elected the most radical of their number as President of the Senate—Ben Wade, of Ohio. Johnson removed, Wade would have been President, and the extreme radicals would have been in supreme control of the legislative and executive departments of the Government.
This condition is what made Mr. Blaine hesitate. He told me on one occasion: "Johnson in the White House is bad enough, but we know what we have; Lord knows what we would get with old Ben Wade there. I do not know but I would rather trust Johnson than Wade." But in the end Blaine supported the impeachment articles, just as I did, and as Senator Allison and other somewhat conservative members did, all feeling at the same time not a little doubtful of our course.
Stevens, Logan, Boutwell, Williams, and Wilson were appointed managers on the part of the House, and solemnly and officially notified the Senate of the action of the House in impeaching the President of the United States. The Senate proceeded without long delay to resolve itself as a High Court of Impeachment, for the purpose of trying the President of the United States for high crimes and misdemeanors. The most eminent counsel of the Nation were engaged. Mr. Evarts was President Johnson's principal counsel. He was ably assisted by lawyers of scarcely less renown.
The trial dragged along from day to day. Part of the time the Senate considered the matter in executive session. The corridors were crowded; and I remember with what astonishment we heard that Judge Trumbull had taken the floor denouncing the proceeding as unworthy of a justice of the peace court. The Illinois delegation held a meeting, and Logan, Farnsworth, and Washburne urged that we unite in a letter to Judge Trumbull, with a view to influencing his vote for conviction, or of inducing him to withhold his vote if he could not vote for conviction. A number of our delegation opposed it, and the letter was not sent.
I do not think that it would have made the slightest effect on Judge Trumbull had we sent it. All sorts of coercing methods were used to influence wavering Senators. Old Bob Schenck was the chairman of this movement, and he sent telegrams broadcast all over the United States to the effect that there was great danger to the peace of the country and the Republican cause if impeachment failed, and asking the recipients to send their Senators public opinion by resolutions and delegations. And responses came from all over the North, urging and demanding the impeachment of the President.
It is difficult now to realize the intense excitement of that period. General Grant was there, tacitly acknowledged as the next nominee of the Republican party for the Presidency. He took no active part, but it was pretty well understood, from the position of his friends such as Logan and Washburne, that the impeachment had his sympathy; and in the Senate Conkling was especially vindictive. Grimes, Fessenden, and Trumbull led the fight for acquittal. Many were noncommittal; but in the end the struggle turned on the one doubtful Senator, Edmund G. Ross of Kansas.
It was determined to vote on the tenth article first, as that article was the strongest one and more votes could be mustered for it than any other. It was well understood that the vote on that article would settle the matter.
More than forty-three years have passed into history since that memorable day when the Senate of the United States was sitting as a Court of Impeachment for the purpose of trying the President of the United States for high crimes and misdemeanors. The occasion is unforgettable. As I look back now, I see arising before me the forms and features of the great men who were sitting in that high court: I see presiding Chief Justice Chase; I see Sumner, cold and dignified; Wade, Trumbull, Hendricks, Conkling, Yates; I see Logan as one of the managers on the part of the House; I see old Thad Stevens, weak and wasted from illness, being carried in—all long since have passed to the beyond, the accused President, the members of the high court, the counsel. Of all the eminent men who were present on that day, aside from the Hon. J. B. Henderson, I do not know of a single one now living.
As the roll was called, there was such a solemn hush as only comes when man stands in the presence of Deity. Finally, when the name of Ross was reached and he voted "No"; when it was understood that his vote meant acquittal, the friends of the President in the galleries thundered forth in applause.
And thus ended for the first, and I hope the last, time the trial of a President of the United States before the Senate, sitting as a Court of Impeachment for high crimes and misdemeanors.
After my six years' service in the Lower House of Congress, I returned home, not expecting ever again to take office, or engage in politics. There was a contest going on in the State over the location of the State Capitol. The State had committed itself to the erection of a new Capitol building, and had really made considerable progress on its construction.
In the meantime, the question of changing the location from Springfield to some other city was agitated. Peoria made a very strong effort for the removal to that city. The work on the new building, as an immediate result, was stopped. The Legislature had adjourned, and another election of members was to occur. This condition of local affairs existed when I returned home after my service was finished in Washington.
The friends in my home county, in which the State Capitol is located, waited on me and expressed a desire that I should allow my name to be used as a candidate for the Legislature. I made known my resolve not to enter politics again; but they based the proposal upon a ground that made it extremely difficult and embarrassing not to accede, to-wit: they had been with me for anything I had ever wanted, and now they wanted me to reciprocate, and do astheydesired. I did not feel that I could disregard their wishes, and so yielded to their demand; it was nothing less.
They then went to the Hon. Milton Hay, who was a great lawyer, and as good a man as I ever knew, and made the same demand upon him. He was under no special obligation to yield to their wishes, for he had never asked for office at the hands of the people. He declined; but they also declined to take "No" for an answer. The result was that both Hay and I became candidates, were both elected, and the contest over the removal of the State Capitol was renewed.
I was chosen Speaker. Mr. Hay was the foremost lawyer of the Legislature. One million dollars was reported from the proper committee of the House, and passed without opposition, and the work on the Capitol was once more taken up.
Finding myself again in politics, I determined to become a candidate for Governor. To be successful, it seemed to be important that I should go back into the Legislature, which I did. After my re- election I was supported by the Republican party for Speaker for my second term.
However, the House of Representatives was in control of the opposition, composed of Democrats and Independents, the latter being more generally wrong than the Democrats, and much less reliable. The combination organized the House, the Hon. Elijah Haines being elected Speaker, and the Republicans casting their united vote for me. This Legislature has ever since been known as the "Haines Legislature," the most notorious Legislature ever known in the State. Haines was a man of ability—especially, to stir up strife and produce confusion.