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Title: Something of Men I Have Known
       With Some Papers of a General Nature, Political, Historical, and Retrospective

Author: Adlai E. Stevenson

Release Date: November 9, 2006  [eBook #19745]
[Last updated on May 30, 2007]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)


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SOMETHING OF MEN I HAVE KNOWN

With Some Papers of a General Nature, Political, Historical, and
Retrospective

by

ADLAI E. STEVENSON

Fully Illustrated

Second Edition








[Frontispiece]

[Publisher's logo]


Chicago
A. C. McClurg & Co.
1909

Copyright
A. C. McClurg & Co.
1909
Published October, 1909
Second Edition, December 17, 1909
The Lakeside Press
R. R. Donnelley & Sons Company
Chicago




TO MY WIFE
Letitia Green Stevenson
THE PATIENT LISTENER TO THESE
"TWICE-TOLD TALES"




FOREWORD

To write in the spirit of candor of men he has known, and of great
events in which he has himself borne no inconspicuous part, has
been thought not an unworthy task for the closing years of more
than one of the most eminent of our public men.  It may be that
the labor thus imposed has oftentimes enabled the once active
participant in great affairs submissively "to entertain the lag
end of his life with quiet hours."

Following the example of such at a great distance and along a
humbler path, I have attempted to write something of events of
which I have been a witness, and of some of the principal actors
therein during the last third of a century.

My book in the main is something of men I have personally known;
the occasional mention of statesmen of the past seems justified by
matters at the time under discussion.

With the hope that it may not be wholly without interest to some
into whose hands it may fall, I now submit this slight contribution
to the political literature of these passing days.

A. E. S.
BLOOMINGTON, ILLINOIS,
_August 1, 1909._




CONTENTS

CHAPTER
      I.  ON THE CIRCUIT
     II.  IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES
    III.  AGAIN IN CONGRESS
     IV.  THE VICE-PRESIDENT
      V.  THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES
     VI.  A TRIBUTE TO LINCOLN
    VII.  STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS
   VIII.  THE FIRST POLITICAL TELEGRAM
     IX.  ALONG THE BYPATHS OF HISTORY
      X.  THE CODE OF HONOR
     XI.  A PRINCELY GIFT
    XII.  THE OLD RANGER
   XIII.  THE MORMON EXODUS FROM ILLINOIS
    XIV.  A KENTUCKY COLONEL
     XV.  FORGOTTEN EVENTS OF THE LONG AGO
    XVI.  ROBERT G. INGERSOLL
   XVII.  A CAMP-MEETING ORATOR
  XVIII.  CLEVELAND AS I KNEW HIM
    XIX.  THE UNANIMOUS CHOICE FOR SPEAKER
     XX.  A LAWYER OF THE OLD SCHOOL
    XXI.  HIGH DEBATE IN THE MOUNTAINS
   XXII.  THE SAGE OF THE BAR
  XXIII.  "THE GENTLEMAN FROM MISSISSIPPI"
   XXIV.  AN OLD-TIME COUNTRY DOCTOR
    XXV.  A QUESTION OF AVAILABILITY
   XXVI.  A STATESMAN OF A PAST ERA
  XXVII.  NOT GUILTY OF PREACHING THE GOSPEL
 XXVIII.  AMONG THE ACTORS
   XXIX.  THE LOST ART OF ORATORY
    XXX.  THE COLONELS
   XXXI.  REMINISCENCES
  XXXII.  A TRIBUTE TO IRELAND
 XXXIII.  THE BLIND CHAPLAIN
  XXXIV.  A MEMORABLE CENTENNIAL
   XXXV.  COLUMBUS MONUMENT IN CENTRAL PARK
  XXXVI.  A PLATFORM NOT DANGEROUS TO STAND UPON
 XXXVII.  ANECDOTES OF GOVERNOR OGLESBY
XXXVIII.  THE ONE ENEMY
  XXXIX.  CONTRASTS OF TIMES
     XL.  ENDORSING THE ADMINISTRATION
    XLI.  ANECDOTES ABOUT LINCOLN
   XLII.  FIRST LEGISLATIVE ASSEMBLY IN AMERICA
  XLIII.  A NEW DAY ADDED TO THE CALENDAR
   XLIV.  A MOUNTAIN COLLEGE
    XLV.  DEDICATION OF A NATIONAL PARK
   XLVI.  A BAR MEETING STILL IN SESSION
  XLVII.  THE HAYNE-WEBSTER DEBATE RECALLED
 XLVIII.  IN THE HIGHLANDS
   XLIX.  ANECDOTES OF LAWYERS
      L.  OUR NOBLE CALLING
     LI.  THE "HOME-COMING" AT BLOOMINGTON


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

                        [facing] PAGE
   ADLAI E. STEVENSON  _Frontispiece_
   ADLAI E. STEVENSON AT 30         8
   JAMES S. EWING                   9
   GEORGE F. HOAR                  12
   SAMUEL J. TILDEN                13
   JAMES G. BLAINE                 18
   ROBERT E. WILLIAMS              19
   JAMES A. GARFIELD               22
   NATH. P. BANKS                  23
   WILLIAM R. MORRISON             26
   WILLIAM M. SPRINGER             27
   SAMUEL J. RANDALL               30
   ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS           30
   LUCIUS Q. C. LAMAR              30
   JAMES B. BECK                   30
   DAVID DUDLEY FIELD              31
   HENRY WATTERSON                 33
   SAMUEL S. COX                   34
   LEVI P. MORTON                  48
   JAMES A. McKENZIE               49
   WILLIAM McKINLEY                56
   SENATE TESTIMONIAL TO MR. STEVENSON AS PRESIDENT
     OF SENATE                     57
   ABRAHAM LINCOLN                 82
   ANDREW JOHNSON                  83
   ULYSSES S. GRANT               100
   HORATIO SEYMOUR                101
   STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS             126
   SAMUEL F. B. MORSE             127
   WILLIAM M. GWIN                170
   JAMES SHIELDS                  171
   JAMES SMITHSON                 174
   JOSEPH HENRY                   175
   JOHN REYNOLDS                  196
   JOSEPH SMITH                   197
   R. G. INGERSOLL                226
   PETER CARTWRIGHT               227
   CLEVELAND AND STEVENSON        240
   WILLIAM FREEMAN VILAS          241
   WILLIAM M. EVARTS              262
   JOE WHEELER                    263
   DAVID DAVIS                    286
   S. S. PRENTISS                 287
   EDWIN BOOTH                    304
   JOSEPH JEFFERSON               305
   RUFUS CHOATE                   312
   ISAAC N. PHILLIPS              313
   WILLIAM JENNINGS BRYAN         316
   W. H. MILBURN                  317
   R. J. OGLESBY                  346
   JOSEPH W. FIFER                347
   LAWRENCE WELDON                352
   THOMAS F. MARSHALL             353
   MATTHEW T. SCOTT               372
   ADLAI E. STEVENSON             373
   LYMAN TRUMBULL                 382
   HOME OF ADLAI E. STEVENSON, BLOOMINGTON, ILL.
                                  383



SOMETHING OF MEN I HAVE KNOWN



I
ON THE CIRCUIT

DEVELOPMENT OF THE COUNTRY AFTER THE CIVIL WAR--SLAVERY THE APPLE OF
DISCORD BEFORE THE WAR--LINCOLN AS A COUNTRY LAWYER--SOCIABILITY
OF THE LAWYERS OF THE PERIOD--THEIR EXCELLENCE AS ORATORS--HENRY
CLAY AS A PARTY LEADER--EULOGIUMS ON LAWYERS--LINCOLN'S ADMIRATION
FOR GENERAL WINFIELD SCOTT--THE WRITER'S ADDRESS ON THE LAW AND
LAWYERS.

The period extending from my first election to Congress in 1874,
to my retirement from the Vice-Presidency in 1897, was one of
marvellous development to the country.  Large enterprises were
undertaken, and the sure foundation was laid for much of
existing business conditions.  The South had recovered from the
sad effects of the Civil War, and had in a measure regained its
former position in the world of trade, as well as in that pertaining
to the affairs of the Government.  The population of the country
had almost doubled; the ratio of representation in the Lower House
of Congress largely augmented; the entire electoral vote increased
from 369 to 444.  Eight new States had been admitted to the Union,
thus increasing the number of Senators from seventy-four to ninety.

The years mentioned likewise witnessed the passing from the national
stage, with few exceptions, of the men who had taken a conspicuous
part in the great debates directly preceding and during the Civil War
and the reconstruction period which immediately followed.  By
the arbitrament of war, and by constitutional amendment, old
questions, for a half-century the prime cause of sectional strife,
had been irrevocably settled, and passed to the domain of history.
New men had come to the front, and new questions were to be discussed
and determined.

To the student of history, the years immediately preceding the
Civil War are of abiding interest.  In some of its phases slavery was
the all-absorbing subject of debate throughout the entire country.
It had been the one recognized peril to the Union since the formation
of the Government.  Beginning with the debates in the convention
that formulated the Federal Constitution, it remained for seventy
years the apple of discord,--the subject of patriotic apprehension
and repeated compromise.  The last serious attempt to settle
this question in the manner just indicated was by the adjustment
known in our political history as "the compromise measures of 1850."
These measures, although bitterly denounced in the South as well
as in the North, received the sanction in national convention of
both of the great parties that two years later presented candidates
for the Presidency.  It is no doubt true that a majority of the
people, in both sections of the country, then believed that the
question that had been so fraught with peril to national unity from
the beginning was at length settled for all time.  The rude
awakening came two years later, when the country was aroused, as it
had rarely been before, by impassioned debate in and out of Congress,
over the repeal of the Missouri Compromise.  It was a period of
excitement such as we shall probably not see again.  Slavery in
all its phases was the one topic of earnest discussion, both upon the
hustings and at the fireside.  There was little talk now of
compromise.  The old-time statesmen of the Clay and Webster, Winthrop
and Crittenden, school soon disappeared from the arena.  Men hitherto
comparatively unknown to the country at large were soon to the
front.

Conspicuous among them was a country lawyer whose home was at
Springfield, Illinois.  With the mighty events soon to follow, his
name is imperishably linked.  But it is not of Lincoln the President,
the emancipator, the martyr, we are now to speak.  It is of Lincoln
the country lawyer, as he stepped upon the arena of high debate,
the unswerving antagonist of slavery extension half a century
and more ago.

His home, during his entire professional life, was at the capital of
the State.  He was, at the time mentioned, in general practice as a
lawyer and a regular attendant upon the neighboring courts.  His
early opportunities for education were meagre indeed.  He had been
a student of men, rather than of books.  He was, in the most
expressive sense, "of the people,"--the people as they then were.
For,

  "Know thou this, that men are as the time is."

His training was, in large measure, under the severe conditions to
be briefly mentioned.  The old-time custom of "riding the circuit"
is to the present generation of lawyers only a tradition.  The few
who remember central Illinois as it was sixty years ago will readily
recall the full meaning of the expression.  The district in which Mr.
Lincoln practised extended from the counties of Livingston and
Woodford upon the north, almost to the Indiana line--embracing the
present cities of Danville, Springfield, and Bloomington.  The last
named was the home of the Hon. David Davis, the presiding judge of
the district.  As is well known, he was the intimate friend of Mr.
Lincoln, and the latter was often his guest during attendance upon
the courts at Bloomington.  At that early day, the term of court
in few of the counties continued longer than a week, so that much of
the time of the judge and the lawyers who travelled the circuit
with him was spent upon horseback.  When it is remembered that there
were then no railroads, but few bridges, a sparse population,
and that more than half the area embraced in that district was
unbroken prairie, the real significance of riding the circuit will
fully appear.  It was of this period that the late Governor
Ford, speaking of Judge Young,--whose district extended from Quincy,
upon the Mississippi River to Chicago,--said:  "He possesses in
rare degree one of the highest requisites for a good circuit judge,
--he is an excellent horseback rider."

At the period mentioned there were few law-books in the State.
The monster libraries of later days had not yet arrived.  The
half-dozen volumes of State Reports, together with the Statutes
and a few leading text-books, constituted the lawyer's library.
To an Illinois lawyer upon the circuit, a pair of saddle-bags was an
indispensable part of his outfit.  With these, containing the
few books mentioned and a change or two of linen, and supplied with
the necessary horse, saddle and bridle, the lawyer of the pioneer days
was duly equipped for the active duties of his calling.  The lack
of numerous volumes of adjudicated cases was, however, not an
unmixed evil.  Causes were necessarily argued upon principle.  How
well this conduced to the making of the real lawyer is well known.
The admonition, "Beware the man who reads but one book," is of deep
significance.  The complaint to-day is not of scarcity, but that
"of the making of many books there is no end."  Professor Phelps
is authority for the statement that "it is easy to find single
opinions in which more authorities are cited than were mentioned by
Marshall in the whole thirty years of his unexampled judicial life;
and briefs that contain more cases than Webster referred to in all
the arguments he ever delivered."

The lawyers of the times whereof we write were, almost without
exception, politicians--in close touch with the people, easy of
approach, and obliging to the last degree.  Generally speaking,
a lawyer's office was as open to the public as the Courthouse
itself.  That his surroundings were favorable to the cultivation
of a high degree of sociability goes without saying.  Story-telling
helped often on the circuit to while away the long evenings at
country taverns.  At times, perchance,

  "the night drave on wi' sangs and clatter."

Oratory counted for much more then than now.  When an important
case was on trial all other pursuits were for the time suspended, and
the people for miles around were in prompt attendance.  This was
especially the case when it was known that one or more of the
leading advocates were to speak.  The litigation, too, was to a
large extent different from that of to-day.  The country was
new, population sparse; the luxuries and many of the comforts of
life yet in the future; post-offices, schools, and churches many
miles away.  In every cabin were to be found the powder-horn,
bullet-pouch, and rifle.  The restraints and amenities of modern
society were in large measure unknown; and altogether much was to
be, and was, "pardoned to the spirit of liberty."  There were no
great corporations to be chosen defendants, but much of the time
of the courts was taken up by suits in ejectment, actions for
assault and battery, breach of promise, and slander.  One, not
infrequent, was replevin, involving the ownership of hogs, when by
unquestioned usage all stock was permitted to run at large.  But
criminal trials of all grades, and in all their details, aroused
the deepest interest.  To these the people came from all directions,
as if summoned to a general muster.  This was especially true if
a murder case was upon trial.  Excitement then ran high, and the
arguments of counsel, from beginning to close, were listened to
with breathless interest.  It will readily be seen that such
occasions furnished rare opportunity to the gifted advocate.  In
very truth the general acquaintance thus formed, and the popularity
achieved, have marked the beginning of more than one successful
and brilliant political career.  Moreover, the thorough knowledge of
the people thus acquired by actual contact--the knowledge of their
condition, necessities, and wishes--resulted often in legislation of
enduring benefit to the new country.  The Homestead law, the law
setting apart a moiety of the public domain for the maintenance of
free schools, and judicious provision for the establishment of the
various charities, will readily be recalled.

Politics, in the modern sense--too often merely "for what there is
in it"--was unknown.  As stepping-stones to local offices and even
to Congress, the caucus and convention were yet to come.  Aspirants
to public place presented their claims directly to the people, and
the personal popularity of the candidate was an important factor
in achieving success.  Bribery at elections was rarely heard of.
The saying of the great bard,

  "If money go before,
  All ways do open lie,"

awaited its verification in a later and more civilized period.  As
late even as 1858, when Lincoln and Douglas were rival aspirants
to the Senate, when every voter in the State was a partisan of one
or the other candidate, and the excitement was for many months
intense, there was never, from either side, an intimation of the
corrupt use of a farthing to influence the result.

No period of our history has witnessed more intense devotion to
great party leaders than that of which we write.  Of eminent
statesmen, whose names were still invoked, none had filled larger space
than did Henry Clay and Andrew Jackson.  The former was the
early political idol of Mr. Lincoln; the latter, of Mr. Douglas.
Possibly, since the foundation of the Government, no statesman has
been so completely idolized by his friends and party as was
Henry Clay.  Words are meaningless when the attempt is made to
express the idolatry of the Whigs of his own State for their great
chieftain.  For a lifetime he knew no rival.  His wish was law
to his followers.  In the realm of party leadership a greater than
he hath not appeared.  At his last defeat for the Presidency strong
men wept bitter tears.  When his star set, it was felt to be the
signal for the dissolution of the great party of which he was
the founder.  In words worthy to be recalled, "when the tidings
came like wailing over the State that Harry Percy's spur was cold,
the chivalrous felt somehow the world had grown commonplace."

The following incident, along the line indicated, may be considered
characteristic.  While Mr. Clay was a Senator, a resolution, in
accordance with a sometime custom, was introduced into the Kentucky
House of Representatives instructing the Senators from that State to
vote in favor of a certain bill then pending in Congress.  The
resolution was in the act of passing without opposition, when a
hitherto silent member from one of the mountain counties, springing
to his feet, exclaimed:  "Mr. Speaker, am I to understand that this
Legislature is undertaking _to tell_ Henry Clay how to vote?"  The
Speaker answered that such was the purport of the resolution.
At which the member from the mountains, throwing up his arms,
exclaimed "Great God!" and sank into his seat.  It is needless
to add that the resolution was immediately rejected by unanimous
vote.

Two-thirds of a century ago the Hon. John P. Kennedy wrote of
the lawyers of his day:

"The feelings, habits, and associations of the bar in general, have
a very happy influence upon the character.  And, take it altogether,
there may be collected from it a greater mass of shrewd, observant,
droll, playful, and generous spirits, than from any other equal
numbers of society.  They live in each other's presence like a set
of players; congregate in courts like the former in the green room;
and break their unpremeditated jests, in the intervals of business,
with that sort of undress freedom that contrasts amusingly with
the solemn and even tragic seriousness with which they appear in
turn upon the boards.  They have one face for the public, rife with
the saws and learned gravity of the profession, and another for
themselves, replete with broad mirth, sprightly wit, and gay
thoughtlessness.  The intense mental toil and fatigue of
business give them a peculiar relish for the enjoyment of their
hours of relaxation, and, in the same degree, incapacitate them
for that frugal attention to their private concerns which their
limited means usually require.  They have, in consequence, a
prevailing air of unthriftiness in personal matters, which, however
it may operate to the prejudice of the pocket of the individual, has
a mellow and kindly effect upon his disposition.  In an old member
of the profession, one who has grown gray in the service, there is
a rich unction of originality that brings him out from the ranks
of his fellowmen in strong relief.  His habitual conversancy with the
world in its strangest varieties and with the secret history of
character, gives him a shrewd estimate of the human heart.  He
is quiet, and unapt to be struck with wonder at any of the actions
of men.  There is a deep current of observation running calmly
through his thoughts, and seldom gushing out in words; the confidence
which has been placed in him, in the thousand relations of his
profession, renders him constitutionally cautious.  His acquaintance
with the vicissitudes of fortune, as they have been exemplified in
the lives of individuals, and with the severe afflictions that have
'tried the reins' of many, known only to himself, makes him an
indulgent and charitable apologist of the aberrations of others.
He has an impregnable good humor that never falls below the level of
thoughtfulness into melancholy."

A distinguished writer, two generations ago, said of the early
Western bar:

"Not only was it a body distinguished for dignity and tolerance,
but chivalrous courage was a marked characteristic.  Personal
cowardice was odious among the bar, as among the hunters who had
fought the British and the Indians.  Hence, insulting language,
and the use of billingsgate, were too hazardous to be indulged
where a personal accounting was a strong possibility.  Not only
did common prudence dictate courtesy among the members of the bar,
but an exalted spirit of honor and well-bred politeness prevailed.
The word of a counsel to his adversary was his inviolable bond.
The suggestion of a lawyer as to the existence of a fact was accepted
as verity by the court.  To insinuate unprofessional conduct was
to impute infamy."

I distinctly recall the first time I saw Mr. Lincoln.  In September,
1852, two lawyers from Springfield, somewhat travel-stained with
their sixty miles' journey, alighted from the stage-coach in front
of the old tavern in Bloomington.  The taller and younger of the
two was Abraham Lincoln; the other, his personal friend and former
preceptor, John T. Stuart.  That evening it was my good fortune to
hear Mr. Lincoln address a political meeting at the old Courthouse
in advocacy of the election of General Winfield Scott to the
Presidency.  The speech was one of great ability, and but little
that was favorable of the military record of General Pierce remained
when the speech was concluded.  The Mexican War was then of recent
occurrence, its startling events fresh in the memory of all, and
its heroes still the heroes of the hour.  The more than half-century
that has passed has not wholly dispelled my recollection of Mr.
Lincoln's eloquent tribute to "the hero of Lundy's Lane," and his
humorous description of the military career of General Franklin Pierce.

The incident now to be related occurred at the old National Hotel in
Bloomington in September, 1854.  Senator Douglas had been advertised
to speak, and a large audience was in attendance.  It was his first
appearance there since the passage of the Kansas-Nebraska Bill.
The writer, then a student at the Wesleyan University, with his
classmate James S. Ewing and many others, had called upon Mr.
Douglas at his hotel.  While there the Hon. Jesse W. Fell, a
prominent citizen of Bloomington and the close friend of Mr.
Lincoln, also called upon Mr. Douglas, and after some conversation
with him said in substance, that inasmuch as there was profound
interest felt in the great question then pending, and the people
were anxious to hear both sides, he thought it would be well to
have a joint discussion between Judge Douglas and Mr. Lincoln.  To
which proposition Mr. Douglas at once demanded, "What party does
Mr. Lincoln represent?"  The answer of Mr. Fell was, "the Whig
party, of course."  Declining the proposition with much feeling Mr.
Douglas said, "When I came home from Washington I was assailed
in the northern part of the State by an old line abolitionist,
in the central part of the State by a Whig, and in Southern Illinois
by an anti-Nebraska Democrat.  I cannot hold the Whig responsible for
what the abolitionist says, nor the anti-Nebraska Democrat responsible
for what either of the others say, and it looks like dogging a man
all over the State."  There was no further allusion to the subject,
and Mr. Lincoln soon after called.  The greeting between Judge
Douglas and himself was most cordial, and their conversation,
principally of incidents of their early lives, of the most agreeable
and friendly character.  Judge Lawrence Weldon, just then at the
beginning of an honorable career, was present at the above interview,
and has in a sketch of Mr. Lincoln given its incidents more in
detail.

Courts of justice, and the law as a distinctive calling, are the
necessary outgrowths of civilization.  In his rude state, man
avenged his wrongs with his own strong arm, and the dogma, "Might makes
right," passed unchallenged.  But as communities assumed organic
form, tribunals were instituted for the administration of justice and
the maintenance of public order.  The progress of society, from
a condition of semi-barbarism and ignorance to a state of the
highest culture and refinement, may be traced by its advancement
in the modes of administering justice, and in the character and
learning of its tribunals.  The advance steps taken from time to
time in the history of jurisprudence are the milestones which stand
out on the highway of civilization.  All along the pathway of human
progress, the courts of justice have been the sure criteria by
which to judge of the intelligence and virtue of our race.

Truly it has been said:  "With the coming of the lawyer came a new
power in the world.  The steel-clad baron and his retainers were
awed by terms they had never before heard and did not understand, such
as precedent, principle, and the like.  The great and real pacifier
of the world was the lawyer.  His parchment took the place of
the battle-field.  The flow of his ink checked the flow of blood.
His quill usurped the place of the sword.  His legalism dethroned
barbarism.  His victories were victories of peace.  He impressed
on individuals and on communities that which he is now endeavoring
to impress on nations, that there are many controversies that it
were better to lose by arbitration than to win by war and
bloodshed."

It is all-important, never more so than now, that the people should
magnify the law.  Whatever lessens respect for its authority bodes
evil and only evil to the State.  No occasion could arise more
appropriate than this in which to utter solemn words of warning
against an evil of greater menace to the public weal than aught to
be apprehended from foreign foe.  In many localities a spirit of
lawlessness has asserted itself in its most hideous form.  The rule
of the mob has at times usurped that of the law.  Outrages have
been perpetrated in the name of summary justice, appalling to
all thoughtful men.  It need hardly be said that all this is in
total disregard of individual rights, and utterly subversive of
all lawful authority.

By the solemn adjudication of courts, and under the safeguards
of law, the fact of guilt is to be established, and the guilty
punished.  The spirit of the mob is in deadly antagonism to all
constituted authority.  Unless curbed it will sap the foundation
of civilized society.  Lynching a human creature is no less murder
when the act of a mob than when that of a single individual.  There
is no safety to society but in an aroused public sentiment that
will hold each participant amenable to the law for the consequences
of the crime he either perpetrates or abets.  This is the land
of liberty, "of the largest liberty," but let it never be forgotten
that it is liberty regulated by law.  Let him be accounted a public
enemy who would weaken the bonds of human society, and destroy what
it has cost our race the sacrifice and toil of centuries to achieve.

The sure rock of defence in the outstretched years as in the
long past, will be the intelligence, the patriotism, the virtue of
a law-abiding, liberty-loving people.  To a degree that cannot
be measured by words, the temple of justice will prove the city of
refuge.  "The judiciary has no guards, no palaces, no treasuries; no
arms but truth and wisdom; and no splendor but justice."



II
IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES

NOTABLE MEMBERS OF THE FORTY-FOURTH CONGRESS--TRIAL OF GENERAL
BELKNAP--THE PRESIDENTIAL CONTEST BETWEEN HAYES AND TILDEN--CREATION
OF THE ELECTORAL COMMISSION--THE WRITER'S SPEECH ON THAT OCCASION--
PROMINENT MEMBERS OF THE HOUSE DURING THIS CONGRESS--ANECDOTES
OF MR. BLAINE--OTHER MEMBERS--ANECDOTES OF MR. HOAR--ELECTION OF
THE "BLIND PREACHER"--MR. LAMAR'S ERROR AT TABLE--"BLUE JEANS
WILLIAMS"--RETIREMENT OF DR. BUTLER FROM THE CHAPLAINCY--MR.
BLACKBURN'S SPEECH AT AN EXECUTION--MR. COX'S READY WIT--PROCTOR
KNOTT'S ABILITY AS A LAWYER--HIS SPEECH ON DULUTH--HIS REPLY TO
HIS COMPETITOR FOR THE GOVERNORSHIP.

The forty-fourth Congress--the first of which I was a member--
assembled December 6, 1875.  Among its members were many gentlemen
of distinction, some of whom had known active service in the field.
Political disabilities had been in large measure removed, and
the South was now, for the first time since the war, represented in
Congress by its old-time statesmen.  Of this number may be mentioned
Mr. Stephens of Georgia, Mr. Lamar of Mississippi, and Mr. Reagan of
Texas.  From the membership of this House were afterwards chosen
twenty-six Senators, ten members of the Cabinet, one Justice of
the Supreme Court, and from this and the House immediately succeeding,
three Vice-Presidents and two Presidents of the United States.  The
proceedings of this Congress marked an important epoch in our
history.  During its first session occurred the masterful debate
upon the General Amnesty Bill.  The very depths of partisan feeling
were stirred, and for many days it was indeed a titanic struggle.
The speeches attracting the greatest attention were those of Blaine
and Garfield upon the one side, and Hill of Georgia and Lamar upon
the other.  This great debate recalled vividly that of Webster and
Hayne, in the other wing of the Capitol, almost half a century before.

This session also witnessed the impeachment of a Cabinet officer, General
Belknap, Secretary of War.  The trial occurred before the
Senate, sitting as a court of impeachment during the closing weeks
of the session, and resulted in his acquittal, less than two-thirds
of the Senators voting for conviction.  General Belknap was
represented by an able array of counsel, chief of whom were
Judge Black of Pennsylvania and the Hon. Matthew H. Carpenter
of Wisconsin.  Mr. Knott of Kentucky, Mr. Hoar of Massachusetts,
and Mr. Lord of New York, conducted the prosecution in the main as
managers on the part of the House of Representatives.  The principal
contention on the part of the counsel for the accused was that there
could be no conviction, inasmuch as Belknap had resigned his office
before the article of impeachment had been preferred.  This view
seems to have been decisive of the final vote of many Senators,
and the accused stood acquitted at the bar of the Senate.

When the second session of this Congress convened, in December,
1876, the excitement throughout the country was intense over the
pending Presidential contest between Hayes and Tilden.  As will be
remembered, the electoral vote of two States, Louisiana and Florida,
was claimed by each of the candidates.  These votes were decisive of
the result.  As the days passed and the time approached for the
joint session of the Senate and the House, for the purpose of
counting the electoral votes and declaring the result, the tension
became greater, and partisan feeling more intense.  The friends of
Hayes were in the majority in the Senate; those of Tilden, in
the House.  With conflicting certificates, both purporting to give
the correct vote from each of the States named, and no lawful
authority existing to determine as to their validity, it can readily
be seen that the situation was one to arouse the grave apprehension
of all thoughtful men.  The condition was without a precedent in
our history.  Twice had there been a failure to elect a President by
the people, and by constitutional provision the election in each
instance devolved upon the House.  In the first-mentioned case, in
1801, Mr. Jefferson was chosen; and in the latter, in 1825, Mr.
John Quincy Adams.  In neither of the cases just mentioned had
there been a question as to _how_ any State had voted.  It was
simply that no person had received a majority of all of the electoral
votes cast.  The method of settlement was clearly pointed out by
the Constitution.  As already indicated, the case was wholly
different in the Hayes-Tilden controversy.  The question then was as
to _how_ certain States had voted.  It was for the purpose of
ascertaining this fact and certifying the same to the joint session
of the Senate and House, that the Electoral Commission was constituted.
The bill having this end in view originated in the House in January,
1877; the Commission was constituted, and the controverted questions
were soon thereafter determined.

The Electoral Commission was an imperative necessity.  As such
it was created,--consisting of five members each from the Senate, the
House of Representatives, and the Supreme Court.  Its decisions
were adverse to Mr. Tilden from the beginning, and resulted in the
finding that all disputed votes should be counted for his opponent.
This, it will be remembered, gave Hayes a majority of one on the
final count, and resulted in his induction into office.  Partisan feeling
was at its height, and the question of the justice of the decision
of the Electoral Commission was vehemently discussed.

To the end that there might be a peaceful determination of the
perilous question, that of disputed succession to the Presidency, I
was an earnest advocate of the bill creating the Commission.  Upon
the question of concurrence by the House of Representatives in the
final determination of the Commission, bitter opposition was
manifested upon the part of friends of Mr. Tilden, and a heated
partisan debate resulted, and during this debate I spoke as follows:

"When this Congress assembled in December, it witnessed the American
people from one end of the country to the other divided upon the
question as to which candidate had been lawfully elected to the
high office of President of the United States.  The business
industries of the country were paralyzed, public confidence destroyed,
and the danger of civil war was imminent.  That Mr. Tilden had
received a majority of more than two hundred thousand of the popular
vote was not disputed.  That he had secured a majority of the
Presidential electors in the several States, and was lawfully
entitled to be inducted into the great office, was the firm belief
of fully one-half of the people of this country.  The hour was one
of great peril to our institutions, and many were apprehensive that
we were but entering into the dark night of anarchy and confusion.
After many weeks of angry discussion, which resulted in still
further arousing the passions of the people, a measure of adjustment
was proposed.  It was believed that there was still patriotism
enough left in the American Congress to secure an honorable and fair
settlement of this most dangerous question.  We all recall how our
hopes revived, and how gladly we hailed the introduction of the
bill recommended by a joint committee of conference of the Senate and
House of Representatives.  It was welcomed as the harbinger of
peace by the entire people of our country.

"I gave that bill my earnest support.  It had in the House no friend
more ardent in its advocacy than myself.  I believed it to be a
measure in the interest of peace.  I believed that those who framed
it, as well as those who gave it their support upon the floor, were
honest in their statements, that no man could afford to take the
Presidency with a clouded title, and that the object of the bill was
to ascertain which of the candidates was lawfully entitled to
the electoral votes of Florida and Louisiana.  I never mistrusted for
a moment that statesmen of high repute could in so perilous an
hour, upon so grave a question, palter with words in a double sense.

"We who are the actors in this drama know, and history will record
the fact, that the Conference Bill became a law, and the Electoral
Commission was organized, not for the purpose of ascertaining which
candidate had _prima facie_ a majority of the electoral votes; not
for the purpose of ascertaining that the Governor of Florida,
and the _de facto_ Governor of Louisiana, had given certificates
to the Hayes electors.  It was never dreamed that a tribunal,
consisting in part of five judges of the highest court on earth,
was to be constituted, whose sole duty was to report a fact known to
every man in the land, that the returning-board of Louisiana had
given the votes of that State to the Hayes electors.  The avowed
object of that bill was to ascertain which candidate had received a
majority of the legal votes of those States.  The avowed object of
the bill was the secure the ends of justice; to see that the will of
the people was executed; that the Republic suffered no harm; to
see that the title to this great office was not tainted with fraud.
How well the members of this tribunal have discharged the sacred
trust committed to them, let them answer to history.

"The record will stand that this tribunal shut its eyes to the
light of truth; refused to hear the undisputed proof that a majority
of seven thousand legal votes in the State of Louisiana for Tilden
was by a fraudulent returning-board changed to eight thousand
majority for Hayes.  The Republican Representative from Florida,
Mr. Purman, has solemnly declared upon this floor that Florida had
given its vote to Tilden.  I am not surprised that two distinguished
Republican Representatives from Massachusetts, Mr. Seelye and Mr.
Pierce, have in such thrilling tones expressed their dissent from the
judgment of this tribunal.  By this decision fraud has become one of
the legalized modes of securing the vote of a State.  Can it be
possible that the American people are prepared to accept the doctrine
that fraud, which vitiates all contracts and agreements, which
taints the judgments and decrees of courts, which will even annul the
solemn covenant of marriage--fraud, which poisons wherever it enters
--can be inquired into in all the relations of human life save only
where a returning-board is its instrument, and the dearest rights of
a sovereign people are at stake?

"But we are told that we created this tribunal and must abide by
its arbitrament.  I propose to do so in good faith.  I have, from the
beginning, opposed every movement that looked only to delay.  I
have voted against all dilatory motions.  But the decision of this
tribunal is too startling and too far-reaching in its consequences
to pass unchallenged.  That the returning-board of Louisiana
will find no imitators in our future history is more than I dare
hope.  The pernicious doctrine that fraud and perjury are to be
recognized auxiliaries in popular elections is one that may return
to plague its inventors.  The worst effect of this decision will
be its lesson to the young men of our country.  Hereafter old-fashioned
honesty is at a discount, and villainy and fraud the legalized
instruments of success.  The fact may be conceded, the proof
overwhelming, that the honest voice of a State has been overthrown
by outrage and fraud, and yet the chosen tribunal of the people
has entered of solemn record that there is no remedy.

  'O Judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts!'

"My criticism of the decision of this tribunal rests upon its
finding in the cases of Louisiana and Florida; upon the Oregon case
I have no criticism to offer.  It is true that but two votes of
that State could have been given to Hayes had the decision first
adopted by the Commission been followed in the case of Oregon.
However inconsistent it may be with other rulings of the Commission,
standing alone it is in the main correct.  The sanctity of seal of
State and certificate of Governor applied only to Louisiana and
Florida; the Governor of Oregon was not of the household of the
faithful.

"The people of Oregon cast a majority of their votes for Hayes,
and no vote or act of mine shall stand in the way of its being
so recorded.  Such have been my convictions from the beginning,
and the great wrong done in Louisiana and Florida cannot warp my
convictions at this hour.

"We have now reached the final act in this great drama, and the
record here made will pass into history.  Time, the great healer, will
bring a balm to those who feel sick at heart because of this grievous
wrong.  But who can estimate, what seer can foretell, the evils
that may result to us and our children from this judgment?  Fortunate,
indeed, will it be for this country if our people lose not faith
in popular institutions; fortunate, indeed, if they abate not their
confidence in the integrity of that high tribunal, for a century the
bulwark of our liberties.  In all times of popular commotion and
peril, the Supreme Court of the United States has been looked to
as the final arbiter, its decrees heeded as the voice of God.  How
disastrous may be the result of decisions so manifestly partisan, I
will not attempt to forecast.

"Let this vote be now taken and the curtain fall upon these scenes
forever.  To those who believe, as I do, that a grievous wrong has
been suffered, let me entreat that this arbitrament be abided in
good faith, that no hindrance or delay be interposed to the execution
of the law, but that by faithful adherence to its mandates, by
honest efforts to revive the prostrate industries of the country, by
obedience to the constituted authorities, we will show ourselves
patriots rather than partisans in the hour of our country's
misfortune."

Some mention will now be made of prominent members of the House
during this Congress.  The Hon. Michael C. Kerr of Indiana was
elected Speaker of the House.  The vote of the Republican minority
was given to the Hon. James G. Blaine, who had been Speaker during
the three Congresses immediately preceding.  Mr. Kerr was a gentleman
of high character and recognized ability.  He had been for many
years a member of the House, and was familiar with the details
of its business.  He was in failing health at the time of his
election, and died before the close of the first session of that
Congress.  He was physically unable to preside during the greater part
of the session, and was frequently relieved from the onerous duties
of the Chair by two new members who were yet to achieve distinction
in that body, Mr. Blackburn of Kentucky and Mr. Springer of
Illinois.

Mr. Blaine, the leader of the minority, had been for twelve years a
member of the House, having been first elected at the age of
thirty-three.  He was a brilliant debater, well versed in parliamentary
law, and at all points fully equipped for the conflict.  With the
exception of Henry Clay, the House of Representatives has probably
never known his equal as a party leader.  That he possessed a touch
of humor will appear from the following.  While the discussion was
at its height upon his amendment excluding Jefferson Davis
from the benefit of the General Amnesty Bill, Mr. Blaine,
looking across to the opposite side of the Chamber, said:
"I confess to a feeling of commiseration for some gentlemen
upon the other side, who represent close districts.  Surrounded by
their Southern associates here, and with intense Union constituencies
at home, their apprehension, as they are called to vote upon
this amendment, is indeed deplorable.  It remind me of a Hibernian
procession I once saw moving down Broadway, where the serious
question was how to keep step to the music, and at the same time
to dodge the omnibuses!"

My seat was just across the aisle from that of Mr. Blaine.  When
introduced, I handed him letters of introduction from two of his
college classmates, the Hon. Robert E. Williams and the Rev. John Y.
Calhoun.  After reading the letters and speaking most kindly of
his old Washington College classmates, he brusquely inquired, "What
are John Y. Calhoun's politics?"

I answered, "He is a Democrat."

Blaine instantly replied, "Well, how strangely things do come around
in this world!  When we were in college together, Calhoun was
the strongest kind of Presbyterian."

I intimated that his sometime classmate was still of that eminently
respectable persuasion.  The reply was, in manner indicating apparent
surprise, "Is it possible that out in your country a man can be
a Presbyterian and a Democrat at the same time?"

I was a member of the Board of Visitors to West Point in June,
1877.  Mr. Blaine and Bishop Quintard of Tennessee were also members.
General Hancock was with our Board for some days at the little West
Point Inn, and delivered the address to the graduating class of
cadets.  He was then in excellent health, and as superb in appearance
as he had been courageous in battle.  I have never heard more
brilliant conversation than that at our table, in which the chief
participants were Gail Hamilton, Bishop Quintard, General Hancock,
Senator Maxey, and Mr. Blaine.  The last named, "upon the plain
highway of talk," was unrivalled.

While the Board was in session, Mr. Blaine and I spent some hours with
the Hon. Hamilton Fish, late Secretary of State, at his country
home near West Point.  Near by was still standing the historic
Beverly Robinson House, the home of Benedict Arnold when he was in
command of the Colonial forces at West Point.  As we passed through
the quaint old mansion, Mr. Blaine, whose knowledge of our
Revolutionary history was all-embracing, described graphically the
conditions existing at the time of Arnold's treason, and just where
each person sat at the breakfast table in the old dining-room in
which we were then standing, on the fateful morning when the courier
from the British camp hurriedly announced to General Arnold the
capture of Major Andre.

Mr. Blaine and I were once passing along Pennsylvania Avenue, a
third of a century ago, when he remarked that the old building just
to our right had once been a high-toned gambling house; that there
were traditions to the effect that some well-known statesmen were not
wholly unadvised as to its exact location and uses.  He then told me
that during his first term in Congress he was early one morning
passing this building on his way to the Capitol.  Just as he reached
the spot where we were then standing, the Hon. Thaddeus Stevens
came down the steps of the building mentioned, and, immediately
after his cordial greeting to Mr. Blaine, was accosted by a
negro preacher, who earnestly requested a contribution toward
the building of a church for his people.  Promptly taking a roll
from his vest pocket, Mr. Stevens handed the negro a fifty-dollar bill,
and turning to Blaine solemnly observed,

  "God moves in a mysterious way
  His wonders to perform!"

At the time first mentioned, Mr. Blaine was in excellent health,
buoyant in spirits, aggressive to the last degree, and full of hope
as to the future.  The disappointments and bereavements that saddened
the closing years of his life had as yet cast no shadow upon his
pathway.

Next in leadership to Mr. Blaine, upon the Republican side, was
the Hon. James A. Garfield.  He possessed few of the qualities
of brilliant leadership so eminently characteristic of Blaine, but
was withal one of the ablest men I have ever known.  Gifted with
rare powers of oratory, with an apparently inexhaustible reservoir
of information at his command, he knew no superior in debate.
At one period of his life he was the recipient of public honors
without a parallel in our history.  While yet a Representative in
Congress, he was a Senator-elect from Ohio, and the President-elect
of the United States.  For once, it indeed seemed that "fortune
had come with both hands full."  In the words of the Persian poet,
"he had obtained an ear of corn from every harvest."  And yet, a
few months later, in the words of his great eulogist, "the stately
mansion of power had become to him the wearisome hospital of pain,
and he begged to be taken from its prison walls, from its oppressive,
stifling air, from its homelessness and its hopelessness."

My personal acquaintance with Mr. Garfield began early in January,
1876, when we were members of the House Committee appointed by the
Speaker to convey the remains of a deceased member to his late
home, Norwich, Connecticut, for burial.  Another member of the
Committee was Representative Wheeler of New York.  It was late
Saturday afternoon when we were conveyed by carriages from the
crossing at Jersey City to the depot where the Norwich train was
in waiting.  Our route lay for some distance along Broadway, through
the very heart of the great metropolis.  As we passed the hurrying
throngs that crowded the great thoroughfare that sombre winter
evening, Mr. Garfield remarked that it was a scene similar to
the one we were then witnessing that suggested to Mr. Bryant one
of the most stirring of his shorter poems.

At our request and in tones that linger even yet in my memory,
he then repeated these lines:

  "Let me move slowly through the street
  Filled with an ever shifting train,
  Amid the sound of steps that beat
  The murmuring walks like autumn rain.

  How fast the flitting figures come,
  The mild, the fierce, the stony face;
  Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some
  Where secret tears have left their trace!

  They pass to toil, to strife, to rest,
  To halls in which the feast is spread,
  To chambers where the funeral guest
  In silence sits beside the dead.

  Each where his tasks or pleasures call
  They pass, and heed each other not.
  There is Who heeds, Who holds them all
  In His large love, and boundless thought.

  These struggling tides of life that seem
  In wayward, aimless course to tend,
  Are eddies of the mighty stream
  That rolls to its appointed end."

Norwich, the home of the deceased member, Mr. Starkweather, and
where he was laid to rest, is a beautiful city and one of much
historic interest.  It was here that Benedict Arnold was born, and
the ruins of his early home were still to be seen.  Of greater
interest was a monument standing in an old Indian burying-ground
near the centre of the city,--"Erected to the Memory of Uncas."
It was within the memory of the oldest inhabitant that the President
of the United States and his Cabinet were in attendance at the
dedication of this monument, and deeply interested in the impressive
ceremonies in honor of "the last of the Mohicans."

An exceedingly courteous gentleman upon the same side of the chamber
was the Hon. Nathaniel P. Banks of Massachusetts.  He had been a
Major-general during the late war and was an ex-Governor of his
State.  He first achieved national distinction in the thirty-fourth
Congress, when after a protracted and exciting struggle, he was elected
Speaker of the House of Representatives.  In the body over which he had so
ably presided in ante-bellum days, he had again taken his seat.
While by no means taking the highest rank as a debater, he was
familiar with the complicated rules governing the House, and his
opinion challenged the highest respect.  He and Mr. Blaine were
the only members of that House who had previously held the position
of Speaker.

Near General Banks sat the Hon. William D. Kelley of Pennsylvania.
He had known many years of legislative service, and was long
"the father of the House."  One of the features of its successive
organization, as many old members will recall, was the administration
of the official oath to the Speaker-elect by the member who had known
the longest continuous service--"the gentleman from Pennsylvania."
When in the fulness of times he passed to "the house not made with
hands," his mantle fell upon Judge Holman of Indiana.

The House probably contained no member of rarer attainments in
scholarship than Julius H. Seelye of Massachusetts.  He stood in
the front ranks of the great educators of his day, and was President
of Amherst College during the latter years of his life.  His
political service was limited to one term in Congress.  His speech
near its beginning upon the General Amnesty Bill challenged the
profound attention of the House, and at once gave him honored place
in its membership.

The Congressional career of the Hon. George W. McCrary, of Iowa,
terminated with this Congress.  He was recognized as one of the
ablest lawyers of the House, and was one of its most agreeable and
courteous members.  During the presidency of Hayes he held the
position of Secretary of War, and was later a Judge of the
United States Circuit Court.

The Hon. Joseph G. Cannon of Illinois, the present Speaker, was
just at the beginning of his long Congressional career.  For
many years he has been an active leader of the House and a prominent
participant in its important debates.  His characteristic patience
and long-suffering courtesy have no doubt at times been sorely
tried by attempts to enlarge the sum total of appropriation
bills reported by the Committee of which he was chairman.  To
the important post of "watch-dog of the Treasury," he was, _nem.
con.,_ the successor to the lamented Holman.  In this connection
a suggestive incident is recalled.  One of the guides of the Capitol,
when some years ago showing a visitor through the Vice-President's
chamber, called attention to a little old-fashioned mirror upon
its walls.  The guide explained that this mirror was purchased at a
cost of thirty dollars when John Adams was Vice-President, but when
the bill for its payment was before the House, Mr. Holman objected.
A Western member, who had just been defeated upon a proposed
amendment to an appropriation bill, by reason of a fatal point
of order raised by the chairman, promptly exclaimed, "I move to
strike out Holman and insert Cannon."

The sagacity and untiring industry of Mr. Cannon have elevated him
to the Speakership, and possibly yet higher honors await him.
It is a significant fact in this connection, however, that
notwithstanding the brilliant array of ambitious statesmen who have
held the Speakership for more than a century, only one, Mr. Polk, has
ever reached the Presidency.

The forty-fourth Congress was the last of which the Hon. William A.
Wheeler of New York was a member.  He was elected Vice-president
in 1876, and the duties of that office have rarely been discharged
by an abler or more courteous officer.  He was highly esteemed
by his associates during his long service in the House.  His
principle in action seemed ever to be, "there is nothing so kingly
as kindness."

Messrs. Hale and Frye of Maine, Aldrich of Rhode Island, Money
of Mississippi, Taylor of Tennessee, and Elkins of West Virginia, were
members of this House; all of whom are now Senators of marked
ability, and well known to the entire country.

A member of this House, who at a later date, and in the other wing
of the Capitol, achieved yet greater distinction, was the Hon.
George F. Hoar of Massachusetts.  At the close of this Congress he
was transferred to the Senate, where for more than a quarter of
a century he was a prominent leader.  His ability and attainments were
of the highest, and he was the worthy successor of Webster in
the great body of which he was so long an honored member.

In addition to more solid qualities, Mr. Hoar was gifted with a
keen sense of humor, as will appear from one or two incidents to
be mentioned.  In the House, Mr. Springer, in order to prevent the
reconsideration of resolutions and debate thereupon under the rules,
had frequently cut off the possibility of such debate by the timely
interposition of the words, "Not to be brought back on a motion to
reconsider."  Now, it so fell out that upon a certain day Mr.
Springer received a telegram calling him home just as the roll-call
was ordered upon an important bill.  Earnestly desiring to vote--
which owing to the early departure of his train was impossible
if he waited until his name was regularly reached upon the roll
--he moved to the front of the Speaker, and after brief explanation,
asked unanimous consent to vote at once.  Permission was of course
granted, his name at once called, and his vote given.  Grateful
for the courtesy, he bowed repeatedly to each side of the Chamber,
and, hurrying up the aisle, was about to take his exit, when Mr.
Hoar, pointing his finger at the retreating figure, solemnly
exclaimed, "Not to be _brought back_ upon a motion to reconsider!"

At a much later day the Senate was "advising and consenting" over the
appointment of a distinguished gentleman whose name had just
been sent in for confirmation as Ambassador to an important European
Court.  The gentleman in question had voted for the then incumbent
of the great office, but his former political affiliations had been
wholly with the opposing party.  The nomination was about being
confirmed without objection when Mr. Hoar, arising with apparent
reluctance, said:

"As this is in some measure a family affair, Mr. President, I
hesitate to interfere.  If our friends upon the opposite side of
the Chamber are satisfied with this appointment, I certainly shall
interpose no objection.  The gentleman named is well qualified,
and has more than once held high place at the hands of the party
which he has but recently deserted, and to which he will no
doubt return in due time.  We have, however, in New England an
old-time custom, as sacred as if part of the written law, that if a
man is so unfortunate as to lose his companion he will not marry
again within one year.  Now sir, I have always thought this rule, as
to time, might well be applied to the matter of office-seeking.
Where a man has been repeatedly honored by his party as this
appointee has been, but where, prompted by motives purely unselfish
no doubt, he has gone over to the camp of the enemy, I think a due
sense of modestly should impel him _to serve in the ranks at least
one year_ before being an applicant for high office at the hands
of his newly found friends."

Coming over to the Democratic side of the Chamber, well to its
front sat the Hon. William R. Morrison of Illinois.  By virtue
of his position as Chairman of the Committee on Ways and Means
he was the traditional leader of the House.  Possessing little
of the brilliancy of the leader of the minority, Colonel Morrison was
none the less one of the ablest and most useful members of that
body.  He had for many sessions been a member of the House, and
had been a soldier in the Mexican and in the Civil War.  His record
was honorable, both as soldier and legislator.  He was the author of
the Tariff Bill which was fully debated during the first session
of that Congress, and was in some measure a determining factor
in the Presidential campaign that soon followed.  At a later
day, Colonel Morrison was a prominent candidate for nomination
as President by the national convention of his party.  His personal
friendships and antagonisms were well known.  It is related of him
that during a serious illness, apprehending that the dread messenger
was in near waiting, arousing himself to what appeared to be a last
effort, he said in scarcely audible tones to a sorrowing colleague
at his bedside:  "I suppose when this is all over they will have
something to say about me, as is the custom, in the House.  Well, if
Springer, and Cox, and Knott, and Stevenson want to talk, let them
go ahead, but if old Spears tries to speak _just cough him down."_

Never in any political gathering has there been a more effective
speech, of a single sentence, than that in which Colonel
Morrison presented to the Democratic caucus of the House members
the name of the "Blind Preacher" for Chaplain.  Three or four
candidates were already in nomination when Morrison arose and said:
"Mr. Chairman, I present for the office of Chaplain of the House
the name of Doctor Milburn, a man who loves God, pays his debts, and
votes the Democratic ticket!"  Before the applause that followed
had entirely died away the names of his competitors were withdrawn,
and the "Blind Preacher" was nominated by acclamation.

The Hon. William M. Springer, of the same State, had just entered upon
his twenty years of continuous service in the House.  He came
promptly to the front as a ready debater and skilful parliamentarian.
He was thoroughly educated, ambitious, and withal an excellent
speaker, and was the possessor in full measure of the _suaviter in
modo._  His personal popularity was great, and a more obliging,
agreeable, and pleasing associate it would have been difficult to
find.  He was optimistic to the last degree.  To him every cloud
had a silver lining,--the lining generally concealing the cloud.
It was said of him by one of his colleagues that when the election
returns were coming in, showing overwhelming defeat to his party,--
even before they were fully summed up,--Mr. Springer with
beaming countenance would promptly demonstrate by figures of his
own how we were sure to be victorious four years later.

The Hon. Carter H. Harrison was a prominent member of the Illinois
delegation.  He soon took high rank as an orator, and never failed
to command the attention of the House.  Few speeches delivered
during that session of Congress were so generally published, or
more extensively quoted than were those of Mr. Harrison.  At the
end of four years' service in Congress he was elected Mayor of
Chicago, an office he filled most acceptably for many years.
His tragic death, upon the concluding day of the great Exposition,
was universally deplored throughout the entire country.

The Hon. John H. Reagan, of Texas, was a Representative in Congress
before the war.  At its beginning he resigned his seat in the House,
and cast in his fortunes with the South.  He was early selected
a member of the Davis Cabinet, and continued to discharge the duties
of Postmaster-General until the fall of the Confederacy.  He was
a citizen of Texas while it was yet a Republic, and took an active
part in securing its admission to the Federal Union.  Judge Reagan
was a gentleman of recognized ability, and of exceedingly courteous
and dignified bearing.

An old-time statesman, on the same side of the Chamber, was the
Hon. Fernando Wood of New York.  A generation had passed since
he first entered Congress.  He was a Representative in the old hall
of the Capitol while Webster, Calhoun, and Clay were in their prime.
Erect, stately, faultless in his attire, and of bearing almost
chivalric, Mr. Wood was long one of the active and picturesque
personages of the House.  At the time whereof we write, his sands were
almost run, but, courageous to the last, he was in his accustomed seat
but a little time before the final summons came, and he died, as
was his wish, with the harness on.  All in all, we shall hardly
see his like again.

Surrounded by his colleagues near the centre of the hall sat one
of the most remarkable men of his day, philosopher, jurist, statesman,
orator, Lucius Q. C. Lamar of Mississippi.  In his early manhood
he was a member of the House, and even then was recognized as one of
the most brilliant of the many brilliant men his section had sent to
the national councils.  During the war his services in field and
council were given to the South, and something less than a decade
after the return of peace, Mr. Lamar, still in his prime, again
took his seat in the hall where his first laurels had been won.
His great speech--one that touched all hearts--was not long delayed;
the occasion was the day set apart in the House for tributes to
the memory of the lamented Sumner.  Many eulogies were delivered; that
of Lamar still lingers in the memory of all who heard it.  "The
theme was worthy the orator; the orator, the theme."  As a splendid
tribute to a great tribune, as a plea for peace,--abiding, eternal,
between all sections of a restored union,--it stands unsurpassed
among the great masterpieces of ancient or modern eloquence.

Later, Mr. Lamar was a prominent participant in one of the fiercest
debates the Senate has ever known.  A leading Senator upon the
opposite side of the chamber, in advocating the passage of the
"Force bill," reflected bitterly upon Mississippi and her Senators.
In replying to the personal portion of the speech, Lamar said, "the
Senator has uttered upon this floor a falsehood--knowing it to
be such.  The language I have used, Mr. President, is severe.
It was so intended.  It is language, sir, that no honest man would
deserve, _and that no brave man will wear!"_

Mr. Lamar was one of the most absent-minded of men.  A number of
years ago, by invitation of the Faculty, he delivered an address
to the graduating class of Centre College, Kentucky.  The day
was quite warm, the exercises somewhat protracted, and, at the
close of his able and eloquent address, he was very much exhausted.

An excellent collation, prepared by the ladies connected with
the College, was served in the chapel near by, at the close of the
exercises.  Seated upon the platform, with Mr. Lamar at the head
of the table, were Doctor Young, the President, Justice Harlan,
Governor Knott, the Rev. Doctor Bullock, Chaplain of the Senate,
Judge McCormick, and others.

At the plate of each guest a large tomato was in readiness and,
excellent itself, was, moreover, the earnest of better things to
come.  Immediately upon being seated, Mr. Lamar "fell to" and,
wholly oblivious of the surroundings, soon made way with the one
viand then in visible presence.  Just as its last vestige disappeared,
the President of the College arose and, with a solemnity eminently
befitting the occasion, called upon Doctor Bullock to offer thanks.
Deeply chagrined, Mr. Lamar was an attentive listener to the
impressive invocation which immediately followed.  At its conclusion,
with troubled countenance, he turned to Knott and said, "I am
humiliated at my conduct.  I should have remembered that Presbyterians
always say grace before meals, but I was very hungry and exhausted,
and the tomato very tempting; I have really disgraced myself."  To
which Knott replied, "You ought not to feel so, Mr. Justice; the
blessing of Doctor Bullock's was broad and general; in large measure
retrospective as well as prospective.  It reminds me of a little
incident that occurred on the 'Rolling Fork.'  An old-time deacon down
there was noted for the lengthy blessing which at his table was
the unfailing prelude to every meal.  His hired man, Bill Taylor, an
unconverted and impatient youth, had fallen into the evil habit of
commencing his meal before the blessing thereon had been fully
invoked.  The frown and rebuke of the good deacon were alike
unavailing in effecting the desired reform.  Righteously indignant
thereat, the deacon, in a spirit possibly not the most devout,
at length gave utterance to this petition, 'For what we are _about
to_ receive, and for what William Taylor _has already_ received,
accept our thanks, O Lord!"

In cheery tones the great orator at once replied, "Knott, you
are the only man on earth who could have thought of such a story
just at the opportune moment."  The temporary depression vanished;
Lamar was himself again, and was at once the brilliant conversationalist
of the delighted assemblage.

The surviving members of that Congress will recall a little chair that
daily rolled down the aisle to the front to the Speaker's desk.
It contained the emaciated form of a man whose weight at his best was
but ninety pounds--Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia, "whose little
body lodged a mighty mind."  No one who saw Mr. Stephens could ever
forget him.  He looked as though he had just stepped out from
an old picture, or dropped down from the long-ago.  There was
probably as little about him "of the earth, earthy" as of any mortal
this world has known.  Upon his weak frame time had done its work,
and, true it is, "the surest poison is time."  And yet, his feeble
piping voice--now scarcely heard an arm's length away--was potent in
the contentions of the great hall when he was the honored associate of
men whose public service reached back to the formation of the Government.
In the old hall near by--now the Valhalla of the nation--he had
sat with John Quincy Adams and contemporaries whose names at
once recall the Revolutionary period.  After serving as Vice-President
of the Confederacy, whose rise and fall he had witnessed, Mr.
Stephens, with the shadows falling about him, was, by unanimous
voice of his people, again, in his own words, "in our father's
house."  His apartments in the old National Hotel, as he never
failed to explain to his visitors, were those long ago occupied by
his political idol, Henry Clay.  His couch stood in the exact spot
where Mr. Clay had died; and he no doubt thought--possibly wished--
that his own end might come just where that great Commoner had
breathed his last.  This, however, was not to be.  His last hours were
spent at the capital of his native commonwealth, which had, with
scarce a dissenting voice, just honored itself by electing him
to its chief executive office.

The Hon. Samuel J. Randall, of Pennsylvania, was the successor
of the lamented Kerr as Speaker of the House.  As such he presided
during the last session of the forty-fourth Congress, and during
the two Congresses immediately succeeding.  He had long been a
member, coming in with Blaine and Garfield just before the close
of the war.  Able, courageous, and thoroughly skilled in parliamentary
tactics, he had achieved a national reputation as the leader of the
minority in the forty-third Congress.  During the protracted and
exciting struggle near its close, over the Force Bill--the House
remaining in continuous session for fifty-six hours--Mr. Randall
had displayed wonderful endurance and marvellous capacity for
successful leadership.  He was more than once presented by his
State in Democratic national conventions for nomination to the
Presidency.  He was an excellent presiding officer, prompt,
often aggressive, and was rarely vanquished in his many brilliant passages
with the leaders of the minority.  One incident is recalled, however,
when the tables were turned against the Speaker, no one joining
more heartily than himself in the laugh that followed.  Mr. Conger,
of Michigan, with great earnestness and persistency, was urging
the consideration of a resolution which the Speaker had repeatedly
declared out of order.  By no means disconcerted by the decision, Mr.
Conger, walking down the aisle, was vehement in his demand for the
immediate consideration of his resolution.  At which the Speaker
with much indignation said, "Well, I think the Chair has a right
to exercise a little common sense in this matter."  To which Mr.
Conger instantly responded, "Oh, if the Chair has the slightest
intention of _doing anything of that kind,_ I will immediately take
my seat!"

The Hon. David Dudley Field, elected to fill a vacancy, was a
Representative from the city of New York during the closing session
of the forty-fourth Congress.  He was an eminent lawyer, and, at
the time, stood at the head of the American bar.  His name is
inseparably associated with many important reforms in legal procedure
during the last half century.  He had been instrumental in securing
the appointment of a committee of distinguished jurists, chosen
from the leading nations, to prepare the outlines of an international
code.  His report accompanying the plan, to the preparation of
which he had given much thought and time, received the earnest
commendation of leading publicists and jurists in Europe, as well as
in his own country.  His untiring efforts, looking to the substitution
of international courts of arbitration for war, have given his name
honored place among the world's benefactors.

Mr. Field was the eldest of four brothers, whose names are known
wherever our language is spoken.  The family was distinguished for
talents of the highest order.  It would indeed be difficult to find
its counterpart in our history.  One of the brothers, Stephen J.
Field, was for a third of a century a distinguished justice of the
Supreme Court of the United States.  The youngest, Dr. Henry M.
Field, was eminent alike as theologian and author.  The name of
the remaining brother, Cyrus W. Field, is, and will continue, a
household word in two hemispheres.  After repeated failures, to
the verge even of extremity, "the trier of spirits," the dream of his
life became a reality.  The Atlantic cable was laid, and, in the words
of John Bright, Mr. Field had "moored the New World alongside the Old."

The Hon. Henry Watterson, of Kentucky, was a representative during
the closing session of Congress.  As the editor of a great journal,
Mr. Watterson was already well known to the country.  His talents were
of a high order.  In his chosen field he had no superior.  For many
years he was a recognized leader of his party, and one of the chief
managers in all its national conventions.  His contributions to the
literature of three decades of political campaigns were almost
unparalleled.  As a forcible, trenchant writer he is to be mentioned
with Greeley, Raymond, Prentice, and Dana.  His career, too, as
a public lecturer, has been both successful and brilliant.  The
Congressional service of Mr. Watterson terminated with the session
just mentioned.  His speech, near its close, upon the bill creating
an electoral commission to determine the Tilden-Hayes Presidential
controversy was listened to with earnest attention, and at once
gave him high place among the great debaters of that eventful
Congress.

While a passenger on a train to Washington, to be present at the
opening of Congress, my attention was directed to a man of venerable
appearance, who entered the sleeping-car at a station not many
miles out from Cincinnati.  He was dressed in "Kentucky jeans" and
had the appearance of a well-to-do farmer.  Standing in the aisle near
me, he was soon engaged in earnest conversation with the porter,
endeavoring to secure a berth.  The porter repeatedly assured
him that this was impossible, as every berth was taken.  He told the
porter that he was quite ill, and must get on his journey.  I then
proposed that he share my berth for the night.  He gladly did so
until other accommodations were provided.

On the Monday following, when the House was in the process of
organization, the name of James D. Williams of Indiana being called,
my sleeping-car acquaintance, still attired in blue jeans, stepped
forward with his colleagues to the Speaker's desk and was duly
sworn in as a member of Congress.  This was his first term, but he
soon became quite well known to the country.  As chairman of the
Committee of Accounts, having to do with small expenditures, he
closely scrutinized every claim presented, and scaled to the lowest
many pet measures.  His determination to economize, as well as his
peculiarity of dress and appearance, soon made him an especial
object of amusement to newspaper correspondents.  He was the butt of
many cheap jokes; one being his alleged complaint that hundreds of
towels were being daily used by members at the Capitol, at the
public expense, while at his home, on his farm, one towel would
last a week, with eleven in the family.  Despite, however, all
jokes and gibes, he soon became the most popular man in his State.
"Blue Jeans Williams" became a name to conjure with; and in the
celebrated campaign of 1876, after an exciting contest, he was
elected Governor, defeating an able and popular leader, who, twelve
years later, was himself elected President of the United States.

No sketch of "the American Commons" during the last fifty years
would be in any measure complete that failed to make mention of
the man who was nineteen times elected a Representative, the
Hon. William S. Holman, of Indiana.  Whatever the ups and downs of
party supremacy, despite all attempts by gerrymandering to relegate
him to the shades of private life, Judge Holman, with unruffled
front, "a mien at once kindly, persuasive, and patient," held
sturdily on his way.  Amid political upheavals that overwhelmed
all his associates upon the ticket, his name, like that of Abou Ben
Adhem, led all the rest.  From Pierce to McKinley--whatever the
issues, and howsoever determined--at each successive organization of
the House "the gentleman from Indiana" was an unfailing respondent
to the opening roll-call.  An old English stanza comes to mind:

  "And this is law, that I'll maintain
  Until my dying day, sir,
  That whatsoever King shall reign,
  Still I'll be vicar of Bray, sir."

His integrity was unquestioned; his knowledge of public business,
phenomenal.  With no brilliancy, little in the way of oratory, Judge
Holman was nevertheless one of the most valuable members ever known to
the House of Representatives.  The Lobby regarded him as its mortal foe.
He was for years the recognized "watch-dog of the Treasury."  Personal
appeals to his courtesy, to permit the present consideration of private
bills, had, in the main, as well have been made to a marble statue.
His well known and long to be remembered, "I object, Mr. Speaker,"
sounded the knell of many a well devised raid upon the Treasury.  It
may be that he sometimes prevented the early consideration of meritorious
measures, but with occasional exceptions his objections were
wholesome.  He kept in close touch with the popular pulse, and
knew, as if by instinct, which would be the safe and which the
dangerous side of the pending measure.  It sometimes seemed that
he could even "look into the seeds of time and tell which grain
will grow and which will not."

It has been said that even great men have at times their little
weaknesses.  An incident to be related will show that possibly
Judge Holman was no exception to that rule.  The consideration
of sundry bills for the erection of post-office buildings in a
number of districts having "gone over" by reason of his objection,
the members having the bills in charge joined forces and lumped
the several measures into an "omnibus bill" which was duly presented.
The members especially interested in its passage, to "make assurance
doubly sure," had quietly inserted a provision for the erection of a
Government building in one of the cities of Holman's district.  When
the bill was read, Judge Holman, as he sat busily writing at his
desk, was, without solicitation upon his part, the closely observed
of every member.  Apparently oblivious, however, to all that was
occurring, he continued to write.  No objection being made, the
bill was in the very act of passing when an exceedingly bright
member from Wisconsin, "being moved and instigated by the devil," no
doubt, rushed to the front and exclaimed, "Mr. Speaker, I desire
to call the attention of the gentleman from the fourth district of
Indiana to the fact that the Treasury is being robbed!"  Unmoved
by the appeal, the Judge continued to write, and, as one of his
colleagues afterwards remarked, "was chewing his tobacco very fine."
After a moment of suspense, and amid applause in which even the
galleries took part, the member from Wisconsin, in tragic tones,
exclaimed, "Ah, Mr. Speaker, our watch-dog of the Treasury, like
all other good watch-dogs, _never barks when his friends are
around!"_

Mr. Blackburn, of Kentucky, began his long and eventful legislative
career as a member of this Congress.  As the representative of the
Ashland District, he was the successor of Clay, Crittenden, Marshall,
Breckenridge, Beck--illustrious names in the history of the State and
of the nation.  He was worthy of the succession, and, at the close
of ten years' service in the House, was elected to the Senate.  He
came within a few votes of being chosen as the candidate of his
party for Speaker at the opening of the forty-sixth Congress.  He
was a born orator.  It was as natural for him to speak as to breathe.
Wake him up at any hour of the night, and he would be ready upon
the instant for an eloquent speech of any length, upon any subject.
Thoroughly familiar with all that pertained to our political history,
with a voice easily heard above the storm, he was ever in the
forefront of the hurly-burly of heated partisan debate.  There was
little that was conciliatory about him.  He neither gave nor asked
quarter.  A born fighter, he had rather

  "Follow his enemy through a fiery gulf,
  Than flatter him in a bower."

Possessing neither the keen wit of his colleague, McKenzie, nor
the profound humor of Knott, he was nevertheless the hero of
more interesting narratives than any member who ever crossed the
Blue Ridge Mountains.

The incident to be related may have suggested the witty reply of
Senator Proctor to the Vice-President when invited by the latter
to come into the devotional exercises:  "Excuse me, I am _paired_ with
Blackburn on prayers."  This equals his reply when asked by Senator
Hale what he thought of Senator Chandler:  "I _like_ him, but it
is an acquired taste."

Upon the occasion of the retirement of the Rev. Dr. Butler from
the Chaplaincy of the Senate--a position he had filled most acceptably
for many years--many of the Senators spoke regretfully of his
retirement.  The speech of Mr. Blackburn, for beauty of expression
and pathetic eloquence, was unrivalled.  He spoke most tenderly of
the faithfulness of the venerable man of God; how for long years
he had gone in and out before us; of his daily walk and conversation;
how, like the Blessed Master, his only thought was of doing good;
of how he had often invoked the Divine blessing upon us and our
loved ones, and lifted us as it were in his arms up to the very
throne of grace.  The orator seemed inspired, as though his lips
were indeed touched with a live coal from the altar.  The counterpart
of the scene that followed his closing words had never been witnessed
in legislative assembly.  All were in tears.  It was even said that
venerable Senators, who had never shed a tear since the ratification
of the treaty of Ghent, actually sobbed aloud, and refused to be
comforted.  At length, amid silence that could be felt, an adjournment
was effected, and the Senators passed sadly out to their homes.
As he passed the Chair, Senator Vest, in undertone, remarked to
the Vice-President, _"Jo never saw him!"_

The next day, in the absence of his successor, "the blind chaplain,"
Dr. Butler again, and for the last time, officiated, simply repeating
in manner most solemn and impressive, the Lord's Prayer.  At its
conclusion, Senator Blackburn, who had been a most attentive
listener, came forward to the desk and remarked to Vice-President
Stevenson:  "I tell you, sir, I like that new chaplain of ours.
What a splendid prayer!  There is something _original_ about that man!"

Thirty years and more ago, when first a candidate for Congress,
Mr. Blackburn attended a public execution--in common parlance "a
hanging"--in one of the counties in his district.  Being a gentleman
of great distinction, and a candidate for Congress, he was
appropriately invited by the sheriff to occupy a seat with the
prisoner and his spiritual adviser upon the gallows.  At the
near approach of the fatal hour, the sheriff, with watch in hand, amid
the sea of upturned faces, stated to the prisoner that he had
yet five minutes to live, and it was his privilege if he so desired
to address the audience.  The prisoner meekly replied that he
did not wish to speak.  Whereupon Mr. Blackburn, stepping promptly
to the front of the scaffold, said:  "As the gentleman does not
wish to speak, if he will kindly yield me his time, I will take
this occasion to remark that I am a candidate for Congress, regularly
nominated by the Democratic Convention," etc.  This incident being
told in the presence of Mr. Marshall, the opposing candidate,
the latter remarked that he remembered it well, and could vouch
for its truth.  He then added that when Mr. Blackburn proposed
to speak out the prisoner's time, the latter turned to the Sheriff
and inquired who that was.  To which the officer replied, "Captain
Blackburn."  At this the prisoner, who had amid all the exciting
scenes of his arrest and trial, and even up to the present moment,
with his open coffin beside him, displayed marvellous fortitude,
suddenly exhibiting deep emotion, piteously exclaimed, "Please hang
me first, _and let him speak afterwards!"_

When, in the tide of time, will the House of Representatives witness
the like of "Sunset" Cox?  Beginning a Congressional career, which
was to terminate only with his death, when scarcely of the
constitutional age, he was in close succession a representative
from two great States,--in his early manhood from the Capital
district of Ohio, and in his maturer years, even down to old age, the
most prominent of the delegation from the great State of New York.
Mr. Cox was gifted as few men have been in this world.  His literary
attainments were of a high order, and some of the books of which
he was the author will no doubt furnish instructive and entertaining
reading for many generations to come.  He was an indefatigable
student, and seemed, as did Lord Bacon, to have "taken all knowledge
for his province."  His accurate knowledge of the history of all
countries and times was a marvel, and, all at his instant command,
placed him upon rare vantage ground in the many forensic struggles
in which he took part.  Woe betide the unfortunate antagonist whose
record was other than faultless.  He was a born debater, full of
resources, and aggressive to the last degree.  He never waited for
opportunities, but sought them.  In great emergencies he was often
put forward by his political associates for the fierce encounter
with the great leaders upon the opposite side of the Chamber.
He was withal one of the most kindly of men.  He was the soul of
personal and official honor.  His integrity could know no
temptation.  It may truly be said of him that--

  "Whatever record leaps to light,
  He never can be shamed."

His sympathies were deeply enlisted for the safety of those "who
go down to the sea in ships."  For years he was the earnest advocate
of a thorough life-saving system.  Much of the present efficiency of
this humane branch of the public service is due to his untiring
efforts.  He had travelled to all countries, and even to the islands
of the sea.  He was of sunny disposition, and believed that "whatever
places the eye of Heaven visits are to the wise man ports and happy
havens."

Mr. Cox was one of the most genial and delightful of associates.
With him and Vance, Knott, and Randolph Tucker as companions for
the social hour, the night would flee away like a shadow.  His wit
was of the rarest order.  He would have been on terms of recognized
kinship with Sydney Smith and Charles Lamb.  He once said of a
vinegar-visaged member that the only regret he had on earth was
that there were no more commandments to keep; what few there were he
kept so easily.  As illustrating his readiness and elasticity,
whatever the emergency, two instances, out of the many that crowd
upon memory, will be given.  During an all-night session of the
House, amid great confusion, the roll-call was ordered.  The first
name, "Mr. Archer," was called, and the response "Aye" was given.
The clerk, failing to hear the response, immediately repeated, "Mr.
Archer," to which the latter, in tones heard above the din of many
voices, again answered "Aye."  Instantly Mr. Cox exclaimed:
"Insatiate Archer, would not one suffice?"

A new member from a district far to the westward entered the House.
His advoirdupois was in keeping with the vast territorial area
he represented.  As a wit, he was without a rival in his section.
The admiration of his constituents over the marvellous attainments
of the new member, scarcely exceeded his own.  Only the opportunity
was wanting when the star of the gentleman from New York should go
down and his own be in the ascendant.  The opportunity at length
came.  Mr. Cox was the victim of the hour; the recipient of many
compliments much more fervid than kind.  The seven vials of wrath were
opened upon him.  A vast storehouse of wit, ancient and modern,
was literally exhausted for the occasion.  Even the diminutive size
of the New York member was mentioned in terms of disparagement.
The speech caused much merriment in the House during its delivery,
and its author with an air of self-satisfaction rarely witnessed
even in that body, resumed his seat.  Mr. Cox at once took the
floor.  No attempt will be made to do justice to his speech.
The manner, the tone of voice, which caused an uproar upon the
floor and in the galleries, can never find their way into print.
Referring to the ill-mannered allusion to his size, he said "that his
constituents preferred a representative with brains, rather than
one whose only claims to distinction consisted in an abnormal
abdominal development."  In tragic tones he then pronounced a
funeral eulogy over his assailant, and suggested, as a fitting
inscription for his tombstone, the pathetic words of Byron,

  "'T is Greece, but living Greece no more!"

Soon after the nomination of Tilden for President, Mr. Cox was
invited to attend a political meeting at the State capital, and
address the Democracy of Vermont.  When the scarcity of Democrats in
the Green Mountain State is taken into account, the significance
of Mr. Cox's reply will readily appear.  His telegram was to the
effect that pressing engagements prevented his attending, but
"if the Democracy of Vermont _will drop into my library_ any
afternoon, about four o'clock, I will address them with great
pleasure."

In attempting to write something of a member so long and so favorably
known to the House as the Hon. J. Proctor Knott of Kentucky, I
am reminded of the opening sentences of the touching tribute of
Judge Baldwin to an honored associate:

"I nib my pen and impart to it a fine hair stroke in order that
I may give the more delicate touch which can alone show forth
the character of this distinguished gentleman.  If I hold the pen in
hand in idle reverie, it is because my mind rests lovingly upon
a picture I feel incapable of transcribing with fidelity to the
original; and therefore I pause a moment to look once more at
the original, before it is obscured by the rude counterpart."

It was worth while to have known Proctor Knott, to have been his
cotemporary in public life, the sharer of his confidence, the guest
at his hearthstone.  In the highest sense of the expression, he
was a gentleman of the old school.  To him there was rare meaning in
the words, "Old wood to burn!  Old wine to drink!  Old friends
to trust!"

He was as familiar with the Bible, with Shakespeare, and Burns, as
though he had written them.  His quotations, whether in private
conversation, or in public speech, were always timely.  There
was little in the way of the best literature, ancient or modern,
that he had not read.  As was truly said of the gifted Prentiss:

"His imagination was colored and imbued with the light of the
shadowy past.  He lingered spell-bound among the scenes of mediaeval
chivalry.  His spirit had dwelt until almost naturalized in the
mystic dreamland of the Paladins, Crusaders, and Knights Templars;
with Monmouth and Percy, with Bois-Guilbert and Ivanhoe and the
bold McGregor; with the Cavaliers of Rupert, and the iron enthusiasts
of Fairfax."

He was the inveterate hater of shams of all kinds, and of mere
pretenders of every description.  He ever avoided the short cuts, and
kept steadily along in the old way.  His heroes, like those of
Dickens, were taken from the common walk; the men he had met in
the road and at the hustings, at whose firesides he had passed many
hours.  Whatever concerned them, whatever involved in any manner
their welfare, was of deep interest to him.  If he had chosen
his own epitaph it might have read:

  "In common ways, with common men,
  I served my race and time."

He was both an artist and a poet.  He loved flowers, and there was
to his ears no music so sweet as the merry laughter of children.
And, whether in private life, or in his great executive office
as "the arbiter of human fate," the tale of woe never failed to
touch a sympathetic cord.  He had in very deed,

  "A tear for pity, and a hand open as day to melting
  charity."

He was welcome at every hearthstone, as one "who cometh unto you
with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the
chimney corner."

Soon after his admission to the bar, Mr. Knott removed to Missouri,
where he was almost immediately elected to the responsible position
of Attorney-General of the State.  In due time he returned to
his native State, and was for six terms a representative in Congress.
Yet later, and as the shadows were beginning to fall to the eastward,
he was, almost by common acclaim, called to the chief executive
office of the commonwealth.  It may truly be said of him that "with
clear head, and with clean hands, he faithfully discharged every
public trust."

Mr. Knott entered Congress just at the close of the great Civil
War.  It was a period of excitement throughout the entire country,
and of intense foreboding to the section he represented.  In the
debates of that stormy period he bore no mean part.  He was counted
a foeman worthy the steel of the ablest who entered the lists.
A thorough student from the beginning, of all that pertained to
Magna Charta, the Bill of Rights, and the Federal Constitution, he
was equipped as few men have been, for forensic contests that have
left their deep impress upon history.  The evidence of his ability
as a lawyer is to be found in the satisfactory manner in which for
three Congresses he discharged the duties of the trying position
of Chairman of the Judiciary Committee of the House of Representatives.
The ablest lawyers of both political parties constituted this great
committee, and its chairman, if possessing only mediocre talents
or attainments, would have been sadly out of place.

But with his heavy armor laid aside, the genius of Knott was
made manifest along more pleasing lines.  Few speeches ever delivered
in Congress have been so generally read, or so thoroughly imbedded
into current literature, as one he delivered soon after his
first admission to the House.  Duluth awoke the morning after
its delivery to find itself famous.  As, "the zenith city of the
unsalted seas," it has been known and read of all men.  As such,
it will probably continue to be known for ages to come.  The speech
hopelessly defeated a bill making a land grant to a proposed
railroad, of which Duluth was to be the terminus.  His mirthful
prediction, however, as to its marvellous future has been fulfilled.
How true it is that "jesters do oft prove prophets!"  Bearing in
mind that the great city of to-day then had no place even upon the
map, the words quoted from the speech will be appreciated:

"Duluth, Duluth!  The word fell upon my ear with peculiar and
indescribable charm, like the gentle murmur of a brook stealing
forth in the midst of roses, or the soft sweet accent of an angel's
whisper in the bright joyous dream of sleeping innocence.  Duluth!
'T was the name for which my soul had panted for years, as the hart
panteth for the water brooks.  I was convinced that the greatest
calamity that ever befell the benighted nations of the ancient
world was their having passed away without a knowledge of the actual
existence of Duluth; that their fabled Atlantis, never seen save
by the hallowed vision of inspired poesy, was in fact but another name
for Duluth; that the golden orchard of the Hesperides was but a
poetical synonym for the beer-gardens in the vicinity of Duluth.  As
that name first fell upon my ear, a resplendent scene of ineffable
glory opened before me, such as I imagine burst upon the enraptured
visions of the wandering Peri through the opening gates of
Paradise."

Mr. Knott was often the sad and silent man.  His real intimacies
were few, and to strangers he was reserved.  But to those who came
within the circle of his personal friendship he was one of the most
delightful of companions.  No man was ever given less to a
parade either of his friendships or of his animosities.  His enemies
--and it would have been strange if, passing through the eventful scenes
he did, he had had none--knew just where to find him.  He was,
in very truth,

  "Lofty and sour to them that loved him not;
  But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer."

The cause often of mirth in others, he was at times far from being
joyous himself.  Few men have been the possessors in so rare degree
of the gift of humor, the sure indication of the humane and
sympathetic in our nature; that "which blends the pathetic with
the ludicrous, and by the same stroke moves to laughter and to
tears."  As Emerson says, "Both an ornament and a safeguard--genius
itself."  The line of separation between wit and humor is shadowy,
not easily defined.  There may be in the same individual, in
some measure, a blending of the two.  As has been said:  "While
wit is a purely intellectual thing, into every act of the humorous
mind there is an influx of the moral nature.  Humor springs up
exuberantly, as from a fountain, and runs on, its perpetual game
to look with considerate good-nature at every object in existence,
and dismiss it with a benison."  While wit, the purely intellectual
quality, sparkles and stings, humor, "touched with a feeling of
our infirmity," would "gently scan thy brother man," remembering
ever that

  "What's done we partly may compute,
  But know not what's resisted."

It is not strange, then, that he who in large degree possesses
or is possessed by this subtle quality should be subject to moods,
it may be melancholy--"the effect of that humor that sometime hath
his hour with every man."  That Governor Knott was deeply endowed with
humor in its best sense, no one who knew him could doubt.  In
relating incidents that convulsed his listeners, he gave no
sign; his own features remained as solemn as if he were attending the
obsequies of his dearest friend.  There is something that is
suggestive in the lines of Thomas Hood,

  "There's not a string attuned to mirth
  But has its chord in melancholy."

While Governor of Kentucky, he sent to the Hon. Stoddart Johnson
a certificate, officially signed and bearing the impress of the
great seal of State, duly commissioning him as "Mister," a distinctive
and honorable title that no Kentuckian had previously borne.  This
recalls the witty remark of Max O'Rell:  "The only thing that
Mr. Ingersoll appears to hold in common with his countrymen _is
the title of Colonel."_

Many years ago McCullough, the tragedian, was giving his
splendid impersonations of the two masterpieces of Shakespeare
at the national Capital.  The morning following one of these,
Mr. Knott and I, passing along the avenue on our way to the House,
were stopped by an exceedingly solemn-visaged individual who,
addressing the former, said:  "Mr. Knott, I would like to have your
judgment as to which is the best play, _Hamlet_ or _Macbeth."_

Gazing earnestly at his inquisitor, and in a tone at once deprecatory
and inimitable, Knott replied:  "My friend, don't ask me that
question.  I am a politician, and a candidate for re-election to
Congress; my district is about equally divided; Hamlet has his
friends down there, and Macbeth his, and I am unwilling _to take
any part between them!"_

When in joint canvass with his competitor for the Governorship
of the State, Mr. Knott, having, by appointment, at one of the
county seats in "the Purchase," made the opening speech, was seated
near by to listen to that of the opposing candidate.  The latter, a
gentleman having a high sense of propriety, and a dignity of bearing
that would have done no discredit to an assembly of divines, had
been exceedingly annoyed by Knott's speech, which had in very truth
kept the audience in an uproar during its entire delivery.  Beginning
his reply, he said:

"Fellow-citizens, I will endeavor to indicate to you the kind of
a man who, in my judgment, should be elected to the position of
Governor of this grand old commonwealth.  In the first place, that
exalted position would never be filled by one who, for lack of
serious argument, constantly appeals to the risibilities of his
audience; never by a wit, a mere joker, a story-teller; in other
words--if you will pardon me, my fellow-citizens--by a mere buffoon.
On the contrary, the incumbent of the exalted position of chief
executive of this grand old commonwealth should be a gentleman
of character, of ability, the worthy successor of Shelby, of
Morehead, of Crittenden; he should be a gentleman of scholastic
attainments and of dignified bearing, well versed in classic lore
and a thorough student of the higher order of state-craft.  In a
word, fellow-citizens, you should elect as your Governor a gentleman
of lofty character, of ripe scholarship, of commanding dignity, of
exalted statesmanship, of ----"

At this point, Knott, interrupting, said, in manner and tone the
exact counterpart of that of the speaker, "Pardon me, Colonel Smith,
but I am too modest a man to listen longer to the beautiful and
truthful description _you have just given of me!"_

Whereupon, amidst the wildest applause, he retired from the hall, as
did the audience, and the speaking for the day, and the joint
discussion for the campaign, were closed.



III
AGAIN IN CONGRESS

CHANGES IN THE PERSONNEL OF THE HOUSE CONTRASTED WITH THOSE IN THE
BRITISH HOUSE OF COMMONS--LEVI P. MORTON--MR. COVERT AND MR. SHELLEY
--GEN. JOSEPH E. JOHNSTON--TWO NOTABLE SPEECHES BY JAMES A. McKENZIE
--JOHN E. KENNA--BENJAMIN BUTTERWORTH--MR. KEIFER OF OHIO--MR.
CARLISLE OF KENTUCKY--SPEAKER REED--PRESIDENT McKINLEY--THE WRITER'S
SPEECH AT THE PEACE JUBILEE BANQUET, 1898.

After an absence of two years I was returned to the forty-sixth
Congress.  Circumstances over which I had no control had prevented
my taking a seat in the intervening Congress, my successful competitor
being the Hon. Thomas F. Tipton.  In politics, however, as in
other things, "the whirligig of time brings in his revenges," and I
was in turn the successful competitor of my late opponent in his
candidacy for re-election.

Meanwhile, many changes had occurred in the personnel of the House.
Many familiar names had been dropped from its roll.  Of these, nine
had been transferred to that of the Senate, a former member was
now in the Cabinet, and Mr. Wheeler of New York was Vice-President.
A significant fact in this connection, and one illustrating the
uncertainty of the tenure by which place is held in that body, was
that more than one-third of those with whom I had so recently served
were now in private life.  Possibly no feature of our governmental
system causes more astonishment to intelligent foreigners than the
many changes biennially occurring in the membership of the House
of Representatives.  There is marked difference between the British
House of Commons, and the popular branch of the American Congress.
A seat lost in the latter--it may be by a single unfortunate
utterance, or unpopular vote--is usually a seat lost forever; while
in the former, membership may continue for an almost indefinite
period, and until an "appeal to the country" by the Ministry upon a
new and vital issue.  If defeated by one constituency, the member of
Parliament may soon be returned by another, the question of residence
having no significance.  In fact if possessing superior talents,
the member is liable to be chosen by two or more constituencies at
the same election, the choice then resting with himself as to which
he will represent.  Such has been the experience of the most eminent
of British statesmen.  The names of Burke, Peel, Gladstone, and
Balfour, quite recently, will readily be recalled in this connection.
In the little island the aspirant to legislative honors has several
hundred constituencies from which to choose, or be chosen, while
in the larger America his political fortunes are usually bound
up in his own residence district.

Upon the roll of the House in the new Congress, called in
special session in March, 1879, in addition to some heretofore
mentioned, were names well known to the country.  Of these none is
more worthy of honorable mention than that of the Hon. Levi P.
Morton of New York.  In the business world his name was a synonym for
integrity.  The head of a great banking house, he was almost as
well known in the principal cities of Europe as in the great city of
his residence.  At the time of his first election to Congress
Mr. Morton was, by appointment of the President, an honorary
commissioner to the Paris Exposition.  At the close of his legislative
career he held successively the honored positions of Ambassador to
France, Vice-President of the United States, and Governor of New
York.  In Congress, Mr. Morton was the able representative of a
great constituency; as chief executive of his State his name is
worthy of mention with the most eminent of those who have been
called to that exalted station; as ambassador to a foreign court
the honor of his country was ever in safe keeping; as Vice-President,
he was the model presiding officer over the greatest deliberative body
known to men.

One of the brightest members of the New York delegation was the
Hon. James W. Covert of Flushing.  Altogether he served ten years in
the House, and became in time one of its leading members.  He was an
excellent lawyer, a delightful associate, and an able and ready debater.
That he was gifted with a touch of the humorous will appear from the
following.  The House was passing through the agony of an all-night
session.  Confusion reigned supreme.  During it all, Mr. Shelley, from
one of the Gulf States, stood at his desk and repeatedly made the point
of order upon Covert, Springer, Kenna, McKenzie, and others, as they
successively addressed the Chair, that "The gentleman is not speaking
from his desk."  The point of order was as repeatedly sustained by
the Speaker, the rules requiring members to address the Chair only
from their respective desks.  The confusion at length became so
great that many members, in their eagerness to be heard, pressed
to the front.  The voice of Mr. Shelley, however, was heard above the
din still calling for the enforcement of the rule; to which the
Speaker, his patience exhausted, now turned a deaf ear.  Desperate
beyond measure, Mr. Shelley at length _left his own desk,_ and
taking his position immediately in front of the clerk's desk fiercely
demanded, "Mr.  Speaker, I call for the enforcement of the rule."
At which Covert immediately exclaimed, "Mr. Speaker, I call for the
enforcement of _the rule in Shelley's case!"_

Almost directly in front of the Speaker's desk sat a gentleman,
small in stature, and of quiet dignified bearing, "The silent man,"
"whose voice was in his sword," General Joseph E. Johnston of
Virginia.  Until this, his first election to Congress from the
Capital District of the Old Dominion, he had known none other than
military public service.  He was a born soldier.  No one who saw
him could mistake his calling.  Napoleon did not more truly look
the soldier than did General Johnston.  A graduate of West Point, his
first service was in the Black Hawk War, and later in Mexico.  For
gallant conduct at the battle of Cerro Gordo, he was brevetted
colonel in the regular army.  His last service was when, as
Lieutenant-General of the Confederate Army, he surrendered to
Sherman, thus ending the great Civil War.  He had already reached the
allotted threescore years and ten when he entered Congress, and
its ordinary details apparently interested him but little.  He
earnestly desired the return of the era of good feeling between
the North and South, and upon his motion the House duly adjourned in
honor of the day set apart for the decoration of the graves of
Union soldiers.

No member of this House attracted more attention than did the Hon.
James A. McKenzie of Kentucky, the representative from what in
local parlance was known as "the pennyryle district."  He was
the youngest member of the body, tall, erect, and handsome.  Mr.
McKenzie rendered a valuable service to his constituents and the
country during this Congress, by securing the passage of a bill
placing quinine upon the free list.  His district was seriously
afflicted with the old-time fever and ague, and the reduction by
his bill to a nominal cost of the sure and only specific placed
his name high upon the list of benefactors.

Two of his kinsmen, one from Illinois, the other from Florida,
occupied seats immediately in his front.  Addressing them one day,
he said:  "It seems strange, indeed, that we three cousins--one
from Illinois, one from Florida, and one from Kentucky--are all
here together in Congress"; and then added, with apparent gravity,
"and _ours not an office-seeking family either!"_

As the session drew near its close, he made repeated efforts to
obtain unanimous consent for the consideration of a bill for the
erection of a Government building in the principal city of his
district.  The interposition of the stereotyped "I object" had,
however, in each instance, proved fatal.  During a night session, near
the close of the Congress, requests for recognition came to the
Speaker from all parts of the chamber.  In the midst of the tumult
Mr. McKenzie arose and, addressing the Chair, stated with great
solemnity of manner that he arose to a question of personal
privilege.  This at once arrested the attention of the Speaker,
and he requested the gentleman from Kentucky to state his question
of privilege.  "I rise, Mr. Speaker," said McKenzie, "to a question
of the _highest_ privilege, one pertaining to the right of a member
to a seat upon this floor--_in the next Congress._  If I don't get
that post-office bill through now, my seat will be imperilled.
I beg the House for unanimous consent for its immediate consideration."
The House was convulsed; no objection was interposed, the bill was
considered and passed, and McKenzie's seat was safe for many years
to come.

Has there ever been a more feeling two-minutes' speech, than that of
McKenzie in the National Convention of 1892, when he arose to second
the nomination of Cleveland?  After a night of intense excitement,
the convention was still in session at three o'clock in the morning.
A storm was raging without, while within, thousands in the great
hall were impatiently and loudly demanding an immediate vote.  More
than one of the chief orators of the party,--men well known to the
country--had in vain attempted to be heard.  Chaos seemed to
have come again at the crucial moment that McKenzie, standing upon
his chair in the centre of the vast enclosure, began:  "If I speak
longer than two minutes, I hope that some honest half-drowned
Democrat will suspend my carcass from one of the cross-beams of
this highly artistic, but terribly leaky auditorium.  Cleveland
needs no nomination from this convention.  He has already been
nominated by the people all along the line--all the way from
Hell Gate to Yuba Dam!"

The bedlam that now broke loose exceeded all that had gone before.
The uproar drowned the voice of the orator within, and even, for
the time, called a halt upon the raging elements without.  The
speech was never concluded.  What might have been the closing words
of McKenzie's speech, with such a beginning, can never be known.
The effect of his opening, however, was instantaneous.  It was the
immediate prelude to the overwhelming nomination of his candidate.

The Hon. John E. Kenna, of West Virginia, was just at the beginning
of a remarkably brilliant career.  He was under thirty years of
age when he first entered Congress.  At the close of his third term
in the House, he was elected to the United States Senate, and held
his seat in that body by successive elections until his death at
the early age of forty-four.  He possessed rare gifts as a speaker,
and was an active participant in many of the important debates
during that eventful period.  Senator Kenna was the beloved of his
State, and his early death brought sorrow to many hearts.

His manners were pleasing, and he was companionable to the last
degree.  He often related an amusing incident that occurred in the
convention that first nominated him for Congress.  His name was
presented by a delegate from the Crossroads in one of the mountain
counties, in substantially the following speech:  "Mr. President, I
rise to present to this convention, as a candidate for Congress,
the name of John E. Kenna--the peer, sir, _of no man_ in the State
of West Virginia."

Among the new members elected to this Congress was the Hon. Benjamin
Butterworth of Ohio.  His ability as a lawyer and his readiness in
debate soon gave him prominence, while his abundant good-nature
and inexhaustible fund of anecdotes made him a general favorite in
the House.  One of his stories was of a Western member whose daily
walk and conversation at the national Capital was by no means up
to the orthodox home standard.  The better element of his constituents
at length became disgusted, as reports derogatory to their member from
time to time reached them.  A bolt in the approaching Congressional
convention was even threatened, and altogether serious trouble was
brewing.  The demand was imperative upon the part of his closest
friends that he at once come home and face his accusers.  Homeward
he at length turned his footsteps, and was met at the depot by a
large concourse of his friends and constituents.  Hurriedly alighting
from the train and stepping upon the platform, with beaming
countenance and heart made glad by such an enthusiastic reception,
he thus began:

"Fellow-citizens, my heart is deeply touched as my eyes behold this
splendid assemblage of my constituents and friends gathered here
before and around me.  During my absence in Congress my friends
have spoken in my vindication.  I am here now to speak for myself.
Vile slanders have been put in circulation against me.  I have been
accused of being a defaulter; I have been accused of being a
drunkard; I have been accused of being a gambler; but, thank
God, fellow-citizens, _no man has ever dared to assail my good
moral character!"_

One incident is related by Butterworth of a judge in his State who,
becoming thoroughly disgusted with the ease with which naturalization
papers were obtained, determined upon a radical reform.  That
the pathway of the reformer--along this as other lines--was by
no means one of flowers will appear from the sequel.  Immediately upon
taking his seat, the judge, with great earnestness of manner,
announced from the bench that thereafter no applicant could receive
from that court his final papers, entitling him to the exercise of
the high privilege of citizenship, unless he was able to read
the Constitution of the United States.  A few mornings later,
Michael O'Connor, a well-known partisan of the Seventh Ward, appeared
in court accompanied by a diminutive-looking countryman, Dennis
Flynn by name.  Mr. O'Connor stated to the judge that his friend
Dennis Flynn had already taken out his first papers, and the legal
time had passed, and he now wanted His Honor to grant him his final
papers.  With much solemnity of manner the judge inquired whether
Mr. Flynn had ever read the Constitution of the United States.
Somewhat abashed by the unusual interrogatory, Mr. O'Connor looked
inquiringly at Mr. Flynn, at which the latter, wholly unconscious of
the purport of the inquiry, looked appealingly to Mr. O'Connor.
The latter then replied that he presumed he had not, at which
the judge, handing the applicant a copy of the revised statutes
containing the Constitution, admonished him to read it carefully.
Mr. Flynn, carrying the volume in his arms, and followed by his
patron, sadly left the court-room.  Just eight minutes elapsed,
the door suddenly opened and both reappeared, Mr. O'Connor in front,
bearing the book aloft, and exclaiming, "Dinnie couldn't rade it,
Your Honor, but I rid it over to him, _and he is parefictly deloighted
wid it!"_

Three gentlemen, each of whom at a later day reached the Speakership,
had served but a single term in the House at the opening of the
forty-sixth Congress:  Mr. Keifer of Ohio, Mr. Carlisle of Kentucky,
and Mr. Reed of Maine.  Mr. Keifer was a gentleman of ability and of
exceedingly courteous manners.  He took a prominent part in debate,
and was the immediate successor of Mr. Randall in the chair.  After
an absence of twenty years he has again been returned to his seat in
the House.

Few abler men than Mr. Carlisle have been in the public service.
He was a recognized leader of his party from his first appearance in
the House, and an authority upon all questions pertaining to tariff
or finance.  During his long service as Speaker he established
an enduring reputation as an able presiding officer; as possessing
in the highest degree "the cold neutrality of the impartial Judge."
While a Senator, he was appointed by President Cleveland to the
important position of Secretary of the Treasury.  The duties of
that great office have never been discharged with more signal
ability.

Mr. Reed stood alone.  He was unlike other men, a fact which probably
caused him little regret.  Self-reliant, aggressive, of will
indomitable, he was a political storm centre during his entire
public career.  His friends were devoted to him, and he was
never forgotten by his enemies.  Whoever was brought into close
contact with him, usually carried away an impression by which to
remember him.  Upon one occasion, in the House, when in sharp debate
with Mr. Springer, the latter quoted the familiar saying of Henry
Clay, "Sir, I would rather be right than be President."  Mr. Reed,
in a tone far from reassuring, retorted, "The gentleman from Illinois
_will never be either!"_

The retort courteous, however, was not always from the lips of the
Speaker.  Mr. Springer, having at one time repeatedly attempted,
but in vain, to secure the floor, at length demanded by what right
he was denied recognition.  The Speaker intimated that such ruling
was in accord with the high prerogative of the Chair.  To which
Springer replied:

  "Oh, it is excellent
  To have a giant strength; but 't is tyrannous
  To use it like a giant."

Of immense physical proportions, towering above his fellows,
with voice by no means melodious, a manner far from conciliatory, a
capacity for sarcastic utterance that vividly recalled the days of
John Randolph and Tristram Burgess, and, withal, one of the ablest
men of his generation, Mr. Reed was in very truth a picturesque
figure in the House of Representatives.  He apparently acted upon the
supposition of the philosopher Hobbes that war is the natural state
of man.  The kindly admonition,

  "Mend your ways a little
  Lest they may mar your fortunes,"

if ever given him, was unheeded.  In very truth,

  "He stood,
  As if a man were author of himself,
  And knew no other kin."

No man in his day was more talked of or written about.  At one time
his star was in the ascendent, and he seemed to be on the highroad
to the Presidency.  His great ambition, however, was thwarted by
those of his own political household.  At the close of a turbulent
session, while he was in the Chair, the usual resolution of thanks
to the Speaker "for the able, fair, and courteous manner in which he
had presided" was bitterly antagonized, and finally adopted only
by a strictly party vote.  It was an event with a single antecedent
in our history, that of seventy-odd years ago, when the Whig minority
in the House opposed the usual vote of thanks to Speaker Polk upon
his retirement from the Chair.  In the latter case, the cry of
persecution that was instantly raised had much to do with Mr. Polk's
almost immediate election to the Governorship of his State, and
his subsequent elevation to the Presidency.  The parallel incident
in Mr. Reed's career, however, failed to prove "the prologue to
the swelling act."

The Hon. William McKinley, of Ohio, was a member of this Congress.
He was one of the most pleasing and delightful of associates, and my
acquaintance with him was of the most agreeable character.  One of
his earliest official acts as President was my appointment as a
member of the Bimetallic Commission to Europe.

Mr. McKinley was in very truth one of Fortune's favorites:  five
times elected a member of the House of Representatives, three times
Governor of his State, and twice elevated to the Presidency.  He
was the third of our Presidents to fall by the hand of an assassin.
His tragic death is yet fresh in our memories.

The last time I met President McKinley was at the Peace Jubilee
Banquet at the Auditorium in Chicago, on the evening of October
19, 1898.  On this occasion, following the toast to the President of
the United States, I spoke as follows:

"The incumbent of this great office holds with unchallenged title the
most exalted station known to men.  Monarchs rule by hereditary
right, or hold high place only by force of arms.  The elevation of
a citizen to the Presidency of the United States is the deliberate
act, under the forms of law, of a sovereign people.  As an aspirant,
he may have been the choice only of a political party; as the
incumbent of the great office, he is the representative of all the
people--the President of all the people.  It augurs well for the
future of the Republic when the American people magnify this office;
when the honor, as now, the President who has so ably upheld its
dignity, so worthily met its solemn responsibilities, so patriotically
discharged its exacting and imperative duties.

"The office of President of a self-governing people is unique.  It
had no place in ancient or mediaeval schemes of government, whether
despotic, federative, or in name republican.  It has in reality
none amongst the nations of modern Europe.  The Presidency of
the United States, in the highest degree, represents the majesty
of the law.  It stands for the unified authority and power of
seventy-five millions of free men.  It typifies what is most sacred
to our race:  stability in government and protection to liberty
and life.  The President is the great officer to whom the founders of
the government entrusted the delicate and responsible function of
treating with foreign States; in whom was vested in time of peace and
of war, chief command of the army and of the navy.

"An eminent writer has well said:  'The ancient monarchs of France
reigned and governed; the Queen of England reigns but does not
govern; the President of France neither reigns nor governs; the
President of the United States does not reign, but governs!'

"Experience has demonstrated the more than human wisdom of the
framers of the great federal compact which for more than a century,
in peace and amid the stress of war, has held States and people in
indissoluble bond of union.  In no part of their matchless handiwork
has it been more clearly manifested than in the creation of a
responsible executive.  To secure in the largest measure the great
ends of government, responsibility must attach to the executive
office; and of necessity, with responsibility, _power._  The sooner
France learns from the American Republic this important lesson,
the sooner will government attain with her the stability to which it
is now a stranger.  Her statesmen might well recall the words of
Lord Bacon:  'What men will not alter for the better, Time, the
great innovator, will alter for the worse.'

"The splendid commonwealth in which we are assembled contains a
population a million greater than did the entire country at the
first inauguration of President Washington.  The one hundred and
nine years which have passed since that masterful hour in history have
witnessed the addition of thirty-two States to our federal Union, and
of seventy millions to our population.  And yet, with but few
amendments, our great organic law as fully meets the requirements
of a self-governing people to-day as when it came from the hands
of its framers.  The builders of the Constitution wisely ordained the
Presidential office a co-ordinate department of the Government.
Moving in its own clearly defined orbit, without usurpation or
lessening of prerogative, the great executive office, at the close
as at the beginning of the century, is the recognized constitutional
symbol of authority and of power.  The delegated functions and
prerogatives that pertained in our infancy and weakness have proved
ample in the days of our strength and greatness as a nation.

"It is well that to the people was entrusted the sovereign power
of choosing their chief magistrate.  It is our glory, in the
retrospect of more than a century, that none other than patriots
--statesmen well equipped for the discharge of its timeless duties
--have ever been chosen to the Presidency.  May we not believe that
the past is the earnest of the future, and that during the rolling
years and centuries the incumbents of the great office--the chosen
successors of Washington and of Lincoln--in the near and in the
remote future, will prove the guardians and defenders of the
Constitution, the guardians and defenders of the rights of all the
people?

"Luminous will be the pages of history that tell to the ages the
story of our recent conflict, of its causes and of its results.
In brilliancy of achievement, the one hundred days war with Spain is
the marvel of the closing century.  It was not a war of our seeking.
It was the earnest prayer of all, from the President to the humblest
in private life, that the horrors of war might be averted.  Had
our ears remained deaf to the cry of the stricken and starving
at our doors, we would not have been guiltless in the high court
of conscience, and before the dread judgment seat of history.  The
plea 'Am I my brother's keeper?'--whether interposed by individual
or by nation--cannot be heard before the august tribunal of the
Almighty.

"Justified then, as we solemnly believe, in the sight of God for
our interposition, we rejoice over the termination of a struggle
in which our arms knew no defeat.  The dead hand of Spain has been
removed forever from the throats of her helpless victims.  Emphasizing
our solemn declaration as a nation, that this was a war for humanity,
not for self-aggrandizement, we demand no money indemnity from the
defeated and impoverished foe.

"The sacrifice of treasure and of blood has not been in vain.
However it may have been in the past, the United States emerges
from the conflict with Spain a united people.  Sectional lines are
forever obliterated.  Henceforth, for all time, we present to
foreign foe and unbroken front.  In the words of Webster:  'Our
politics go no farther than the water's edge.'

"No less important is the fact, that the United States of
America to-day, as never before, commands the respect and admiration
of the world.  No foreign coalition, however formidable, can excite
our serious apprehension or alarm.  For all this, all honor to our
brave soldiers and sailors; all honor to the helpful hands and
sympathetic hearts of America's patriotic women.

"As in the early morning and in the noon of the nineteenth century,
America gave to the world its best lessons in liberty and in
law, so in its closing hours, it has given to all the nations a
never-to-be-forgotten lesson in the dread art of war.  In quick
response to the splendid achievements of American valor comes from
across the sea the startling proposal of despotic Russia for the
disarmament of continental Europe--and in the end universal peace.

"Thankful to God for all he has vouchsafed to us in the past,
and with the prayer that henceforth peace may be the priceless boon
of all nations, we await the dawn of the new century, and turn our
faces hopefully to the future."



IV
THE VICE-PRESIDENCY

ELECTION, POWERS, AND DUTIES OF THE VICE-PRESIDENT--NAMES AND DATES
OF ALL THE VICE-PRESIDENTS--FOUR WHO BECAME PRESIDENTS BY ELECTION
--FIVE WHO SUCCEEDED UPON THE DEATH OF THE PRESIDENT--ATTEMPTS
TO SECURE THE IMPEACHMENTS OF PRESIDENTS--THE TWELFTH AMENDMENT TO
THE CONSTITUTION--REMARKS ON SOME OF THE VICE-PRESIDENTS--THE
WRITER'S FAREWELL ADDRESS TO THE SENATE.

By the provisions of the Federal Constitution, a Vice-President of
the United States is elected at the same time, for the same term, and
in like manner as the President--by electors chosen in each of the
States.  A majority of the votes cast in the several electoral
colleges is necessary to an election.  The Vice-President is the
President of the Senate, and in the event of an equal division
in that body, he gives the deciding vote.  Under no other contingency
has he a vote.  The powers and duties of the office of President
devolve upon the Vice-President in case of the death, resignation,
or removal from office of the President.  The Vice-President is
included in the list of public officers liable to removal from
office on impeachment, on conviction for treason, bribery, or other
high crimes and misdemeanors.  By the twelfth amendment to the
Constitution no person constitutionally ineligible to the office
of President can be elected to that of Vice-President.  In the
event of a vacancy occurring in the office of Vice-President,
the Senate is presided over by a member of that body.  In such
contingency the death of the President would, under existing
law, devolve the office of President upon the Secretary of State.

Twenty-seven persons have held the office of Vice-President; the
dates of their respective elections are as follows:  John Adams of
Massachusetts, in 1788, re-elected in 1792; Thomas Jefferson of
Virginia, in 1796; Aaron Burr of New York, in 1800; George Clinton
of New York, in 1804, re-elected in 1808; Elbridge Gerry of
Massachusetts, in 1812; Daniel D. Tompkins of New York, in 1816,
re-elected in 1820; John C. Calhoun of South Carolina, in 1824,
re-elected in 1828; Martin Van Buren of New York, in 1832; Richard
M. Johnson of Kentucky, in 1836; John Tyler of Virginia, in
1840; George M. Dallas of Pennsylvania, in 1844; Millard Fillmore of
New York, in 1848; William R. King of Alabama, in 1852; John C.
Breckenridge of Kentucky, in 1856; Hannibal Hamlin of Maine, in
1860; Andrew Johnson of Tennessee, in 1864; Schuyler Colfax of
Indiana, in 1868; Henry Wilson of Massachusetts, in 1872; William A.
Wheeler of New York, in 1876; Chester A. Arthur of New York, in
1880; Thomas A. Hendricks of Indiana, in 1884; Levi P. Morton of
New York, in 1888; Adlai E. Stevenson of Illinois, in 1892; Garrett
A. Hobart of New Jersey, in 1896; Theodore Roosevelt of New York, in
1900; Charles W. Fairbanks of Indiana, in 1904; James S. Sherman
of New York, in 1908.

Four Vice-Presidents were subsequently elected Presidents, namely:
John Adams in 1796; Thomas Jefferson in 1800 and 1804; Martin
Van Buren in 1836; and Theodore Roosevelt in 1904.  The dates given
have reference to the election by vote of the electors in the
several States by whom the President and Vice-President were
subsequently chosen.  Six Vice-Presidents died in office:  namely,
Clinton, Gerry, King, Wilson, Hendricks, and Hobart.  In the
Presidential contest of 1836, Martin Van Buren received a majority
of the electoral votes for President, but no candidate received a
majority for Vice-President.  By Constitutional requirement the
duty of electing a Vice-President then devolved upon the Senate,
the candidates from whom such choice was to be made being restricted
to the two who had received the highest number of electoral votes.
One of these, Richard W. Johnson of Kentucky, was duly elected
by the Senate.  The only Vice-President who resigned the office
was John C. Calhoun.  This occurred in 1832, and Mr. Calhoun
soon thereafter took his seat in the Senate, to which body he
had been elected by the Legislature of South Carolina.

Five Vice-Presidents have, upon the death of the President, succeeded
to the Presidency.  The first President to die during his incumbency
of the great office, was William Henry Harrison.  His death occurred
April 4, 1841, just one month after his inauguration.  The
Vice-President John Tyler, then at his country home in Virginia, was
officially notified of the event, and upon reaching the seat of
Government at once took the oath of office as President.  There
was much discussion for a time in and out of Congress as to his
proper title, whether "Vice-President of the United States acting as
President," or "President."  The language of the Constitution
however, is clear, and it is no longer controverted that upon
the death of the President the Vice-President becomes, in name
as in fact, President.  Upon the death of President Zachary Taylor,
July 9, 1850, Vice-President Millard Fillmore succeeded to the
Presidency, and was at a later date an unsuccessful candidate
for election to that office.  The third Vice-President who reached
the Presidency by succession was Andrew Johnson; this occurred
April 15, 1865, the day following the assassination of President
Lincoln.  President Garfield was shot July 2, 1881, and died in
September of that year, when he was succeeded by Vice-President
Chester A. Arthur.  Vice-President Roosevelt was the successor
of President McKinley, who died by the hand of an assassin in
September, 1901.

Two attempts have been made to secure the impeachment of Presidents,
the incumbent in each instance having been elected Vice-President and
succeeded to the higher office upon the death of the President.
A resolution looking to the impeachment of President Tyler was
introduced into the House of Representatives in January, 1843, but
was defeated, and no further steps were taken.  Articles of
impeachment, for "high crimes and misdemeanors," were presented by
the House of Representatives against President Johnson in 1868.
By constitutional provision the trial was by the Senate, the Chief
Justice of the United States presiding.  Less than two-thirds of
the Senators voting for conviction, he was acquitted.

Until the adoption of the twelfth amendment, no Constitutional
provision existed for separate votes in the electoral colleges for
President and Vice-President; the candidate receiving the highest number
of votes (if a majority of all) became President, and the one
receiving the second highest, Vice-President.  In 1801, Jefferson and
Burr each received seventy-three electoral votes, and by
constitutional requirement the election at once devolved upon
the House of Representatives, voting by States.  On the thirty-sixth
ballot a majority of the States voting for Jefferson, he became
President, and Burr, Vice-President.  The Constitutional amendment
above indicated, by which separate ballots were required in the
electoral colleges for each office, was the result of the
intense excitement throughout the country engendered by this contest.
The earnest opposition of Alexander Hamilton to Aaron Burr in
the above-mentioned contest, was the prime cause of the duel by
which Hamilton lost his life at the hands of Burr in 1804.

George Clinton, the fourth Vice-President, had as a member of
the Continental Congress voted for the Declaration of Independence,
and held the rank of Brigadier-General during the War of the
Revolution.  The fifth Vice-President, Elbridge Gerry, had been
a prominent member of the Constitutional Convention of 1787.
William R. King, elected in 1852, by reason of ill health never
entered upon the discharge of the duties of his office.  By special
act of Congress, the oath of office was administered to him in Cuba
and his death occurred soon thereafter.  Of the twenty-seven
Vice-Presidents thus far elected, ten have been from the State
of New York.  Adams and Jefferson, the first and second
Vice-Presidents, rendered valuable service to the young Republic at
foreign courts; each by election was elevated to the Presidency; and
their deaths occurred upon the same historic Fourth of July,
just fifty years from the day they had signed the Declaration of
Independence.

A marble bust of each of the Vice-Presidents has been placed in
the gallery of the Senate Chamber.  The office of Vice-President
is one of great dignity.  He is the presiding officer of the
most august legislative assembly known to men.  In the event of an
equal division in the Senate, he gives the deciding vote.  This
vote, many times in our history, has been one of deep significance.
It will readily be seen that the contingency may often occur when the
Vice-President becomes an important factor in matters of
legislation.

On the occasion of the writer's retirement from office, March 4,
1897, he delivered the following farewell address before the Senate:

"Senators:  The hour has arrived which marks the close of the
fifty-fourth Congress, and terminates my official relation to this
body.

"Before laying down the gavel for the last time, I may be pardoned
for detaining you for a moment, in the attempt to give expression to
my gratitude for the uniform courtesy extended me, for the many
kindnesses shown me, during the time it has been my good fortune
to preside over your deliberations.  My appreciation of the Resolution
of the Senate personal to myself, can find no adequate expression in
words.  Intentionally, I have at no time given offence; and I carry
from this presence no shadow of feeling of unkindness toward any
Senator, no memory of any grievance.

"Chief among the favors political fortune has bestowed upon me,
I count that of having been the associate--and known something
of the friendship--of the men with whom I have so long held official
relation in this chamber.  To have been the presiding officer of
this august body is an honor of which even the most illustrious
citizen might be proud.  I am persuaded that no occupant of this
Chair, during the one hundred and eight years of our Constitutional
history, ever entered upon the discharge of the duties pertaining to
this office more deeply impressed with a sense of the responsibilities
imposed, or with a higher appreciation of the character and dignity
of the great Legislative Assembly.

"During the term just closing, questions of deep import to political
parties and to the country have here found earnest and at times
passionate discussion.  This Chamber has indeed been the arena
of great debate.  The record of four years of parliamentary struggles,
of masterful debates, of important legislation, is closed, and
passes now to the domain of history.

"I think I can truly say, in the words of a distinguished predecessor,
'In the discharge of my official duties, I have known no cause, no
party, no friend.'  It has been my earnest endeavor justly to
interpret, and faithfully to execute, the rules of the Senate.  At
times the temptation may be strong to compass partisan ends by a
disregard or a perversion of the rules.  Yet, I think it safe to
say, the result, however salutary, will be dearly purchased by a
departure from the method prescribed by the Senate for its own
guidance.  A single instance, as indicated, might prove the forerunner
of untold evils.

  ''T will be recorded for a precedent,
  And many an error by the same example
  Will rush into the State.'

"It must not be forgotten that the rules governing this body are
founded deep in human experience; that they are the result of
centuries of tireless effort in legislative hall, to conserve,
to render stable and secure, the rights and liberties which have
been achieved by conflict.  By its rules, the Senate wisely fixes the
limits to its own power.  Of those who clamor against the Senate
and its mode of procedure it may be truly said, 'They know not what
they do.'  In this Chamber alone are preserved, without restraint,
two essentials of wise legislation and of good government--the
right of amendment and of debate.  Great evils often result from
hasty legislation, rarely from the delay which follows full
discussion and deliberation.  In my humble judgment, the historic
Senate, preserving the unrestricted right of amendment and of
debate, maintaining intact the time-honored parliamentary methods and
amenities which unfailingly secure action after deliberation,
possesses in our scheme of government a value which can not be
measured by words.  The Senate is a perpetual body.  In the
terse words of an eminent Senator now present:  'The men who framed
the Constitution had studied thoroughly all former attempts at
Republican government.  History was strewn with the wrecks of
unsuccessful democracies.  Sometimes the usurpation of the executive
power, sometimes the fickleness and unbridled license of the people,
had brought popular governments to destruction.  To guard against these
dangers, they placed their chief hope in the Senate.  The Senate
which was organized in 1789, at the inauguration of the Government,
abides and will continue to abide, one and the same body, until
the Republic itself shall be overthrown, or time shall be no more.'

"Twenty-four Senators who have occupied seats in this Chamber during
my term of office are no longer members of this body.  Five of that
number--Stanford, Colquitt, Vance, Stockbridge, and Wilson--
'shattered with the contentions of the Great Hall,' full of years and
of honors have passed from earthly scenes.  The fall of the
gavel will conclude the long and honorable terms of service of
other Senators, who will be borne in kind remembrance by their
associates who remain.

"I would do violence to my feelings if I failed to express my thanks
to the officers of this body for the fidelity with which they have
discharged their important duties, and for the kindly assistance
and unfailing courtesy of which I have been the recipient.

"For the able and distinguished gentleman who succeeds me as
your presiding officer, I earnestly invoke the same co-operation
and courtesy which you have so generously accorded me.

"Senators, my parting words have been spoken, and I now discharge my
last official duty, that of declaring the Senate adjourned without
day."



V
THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES

DIFFICULTY OF FORMULATING A FEDERAL CONSTITUTION--THE CONVENTION
OF 1787 SEES THE NECESSITY FOR A GENERAL GOVERNMENT WITH PLENARY
POWERS--JEALOUSY OF THE SMALLER TOWARD THE LARGER STATES--
BRITISH PARLIAMENT TAKEN, WITH QUALIFICATIONS, AS THE MODEL FOR THE
HOUSES OF CONGRESS--EQUAL STATE REPRESENTATION IN THE SENATE--
NON-EXISTENCE OF ANY METHOD FOR TERMINATING DEBATES IN THE SENATE--
POTENCY OF THE PRESIDENT'S VETO--ABUSE OF THE _CLOTURE_ IN THE
HOUSE--PROCEDURE IN THE EVENT OF THE FAILURE OF THE PEOPLE TO ELECT
A PRESIDENT OR A VICE-PRESIDENT--THE HAYES-TILDEN CONTEST--DANGER OF
USURPATION OF POWER BY THE EXECUTIVE--THE SENATE AS A HIGH COURT
OF IMPEACHMENT--TRIAL OF CHASE OF MARYLAND--TRIAL OF BELKNAP,
SECRETARY OF WAR--TRIAL OF PRESIDENT JOHNSON.

It is a well-known fact in our political history that the convention
which formulated our Federal Constitution greatly exceeded the
powers delegated to its members by their respective States.  It
was the supreme moment, and upon the action of the historic assemblage
depended events of far-reaching consequence.  The Constitution
of the United States is the enduring monument to the courage, the
forecast, the wisdom of the members of the Convention of 1787.  It
was theirs to cut the Gordian knot, to break with the past, and,
regardless of the jealousies and antagonisms of individual States,
to establish the more perfect union, which has been declared by an
eminent British statesman "the greatest work ever struck off at
a given time from the brain and purpose of man."

The oft-quoted expression of Gladstone is, however, more rhetorical
than accurate.  The Constitution of the United States was not
"struck off at a given time," but as declared by Bancroft, "the
materials for its building were the gifts of the ages."  In the
words of Lieber, "What the ancients said of the avenging gods, that
they were shod with wool, is true of great ideas in government.
They approach slowly.  Great truths dwell a long time with small
minorities."

The period following the treaty of peace with Great Britain in
1783, which terminated the War of the Revolution, has been not
inaptly designated "the critical period of American history."  The
Revolutionary Government, under which Washington had been chosen
to the chief command of the colonial forces, the early battles
fought, and the Declaration of Independence promulgated, had
been superseded in 1781 by a Government created under the Articles
of Confederation.  The latter Government, while in a vital sense
a mere rope of sand, was a long step in the right direction; the
earnest of the more perfect union yet to follow.

Under the Government, more shadowy than real, thus created, the
closing battles of the Revolution were fought, independence achieved,
a treaty of peace concluded, and our recognition as a sovereign
Republic obtained from our late antagonist and other European
nations.

The Articles of Confederation, submitted for ratification by the
Colonial Congress to the individual States while the country was
yet in the throes of a doubtful struggle, fell far short of
establishing what in even crude form could properly be designated a
Government.  The Confederation was wholly lacking in one essential
of all Governments:  the power to execute its own decrees.  Its
avowed purpose was to establish "a firm league of friendship," or,
as the name indicates, a mere confederation of the colonies.
The parties to this league were independent political communities,
and by express terms, each State was to retain all rights, sovereignty,
and jurisdiction not expressly delegated to the Confederation.  In
a Congress consisting of a single House were vested the powers thus
grudgingly conferred.  Its members were to be chosen by the States
as such; upon every question the vote was given by States, each,
regardless of population, having but a single vote.  The revenues and
the regulation of foreign commerce were to remain under the control
of the respective States, and no provision was made for borrowing
money for the necessary maintenance of the general Government.  In
a word, in so far as a Government at all, it was in the main one
of independent States, and in no sense that with which we are
familiar, a Government of the entire people.  Whatever existed
of executive power was in a committee of the Congress; the only
provision for meeting the expenses of the late war and the interest
upon the public debt was by requisition upon the States, with no
shadow of power for its enforcement.

Under the conditions briefly mentioned, with the United States
of America a byword among the nations, the now historic Convention
of 1787 assembled in Philadelphia, in the room where eleven
years earlier had been promulgated the Declaration of Independence.
It consisted of fifty-five members; and without a dissenting voice,
Washington, a delegate from Virginia, was elected its President.
Not the least of his public services was now to be rendered in the
work of safeguarding the fruits of successful revolution by a stable
Government.  Chief among the associates with whom he was daily
in earnest, anxious counsel in the great assemblage, were men whose
names live with his in history.  If Franklin, Wilson, Sherman,
King, Randolph, Rutledge, Mason, Pinckney, Hamilton, Madison,
and their associates had rendered no public service other than
as builders of the Constitution, that alone would entitle them
to the measureless gratitude of all future generations of their
countrymen.

When they were assembled, the startling fact was at once apparent that,
under the Confederation, with its constituent States at times in
almost open hostility to one another, the country was gradually
drifting into a condition of anarchy.

It is our glory to-day, and will be that of countless on-coming
generations, that the men of '87 were equal to the stupendous
emergency.  Regardless of instructions, expressed or implied,
the master spirits of the Convention, looking beyond local prejudices
and State environment, and appealing to time for vindication, with
a ken that now seems more than human, discerned the safety, the
well-being, the glory of their countrymen, bound up in a general
Government of plenary powers, a Government "without a seam in its
garment, to foreign nations."

To this end the proposition submitted by Paterson of New Jersey,
in the early sittings of the Convention, for a mere enlargement of
the powers of the Confederation, was decisively rejected.  With
the light that could be gleaned from the pages of Montesquieu, the
suggestive lessons to be drawn from the fate of the short-lived
republics whose wrecks lay along the pathway of history, and from the
unwritten Constitution of the mother country, as their only guides,
the leaders of the Convention were at once in the difficult role
of constructive statesmen.  The Herculean task to which with
unwearied effort they now addressed themselves was that of "builders"
of the Constitution; the establishers, for the ages, of the
fundamental law for a free people.

One of the perils which early beset the Convention, and whose
spectre haunted its deliberations till the close, was the hostility
engendered by the dread and jealousy of the smaller toward the
larger States.  This fact will in some measure explain what in
later years have been denominated the anomalies of the Constitution.
To a correct understanding of the motives of the builders, and
an appreciation of their marvellous accomplishment, it must not be
forgotten that "The foundations of the Constitution were laid in
compromise."  The men of '87 had but recently emerged from the
bloody conflict through which they had escaped the domination of
kingly power.  With the tyranny of George the Third yet burning in
their memories, it is not to be wondered that the Revolutionary
patriots of the less populous States were loath to surrender rights,
deemed, by them, secure under their local governments; that they
dreaded the establishment of what they apprehended might prove
an overshadowing--possibly unlimited--central authority.

The creation of a general Government, with its three separate
and measurably independent departments, happily concluded, with
the delegated powers of each distinctly enumerated, the salient
question as to the basis of representation in the Congress at once
pressed for determination.  Upon the question of provision for a
chief executive, and his investment with the powers necessarily
incident to the great office, there was after much debate a practical
consensus of opinion.  And practical unanimity in the end prevailed
regarding the judicial department, with its great court without
a prototype at its creation, and even yet without a counterpart in
foreign Governments.

The rock upon which the Convention barely escaped early dissolution,
was the basis of representation in the Congress created under
the great co-ordinate legislative department.  The model for our
Senate and House of Representatives was unquestionably the British
Parliament.  This statement is to be taken with weighty qualifications;
for hereditary or ecclesiastical representation, as in the House
of Lords, is wholly unknown in our system of government.  The
significant resemblance is that of our Lower House to the
British Commons.  In these respective chambers, the people, as
such, have representation.

The earnest, at times violent, contention of the smaller States,
in our historic Convention, was for equal representation in both
branches of the proposed national legislature.  This was strenuously
resisted by the larger States under the powerful leadership of
Madison of Virginia, and Wilson of Pennsylvania.  Their equally
earnest, and by no means illogical contention was for popular
representation in each House, as outlined in the Virginia plan
which had been taken as the framework of the proposed Constitution.
The opposing views appeared wholly irreconcilable, and for a time the
parting of the ways seemed to have been reached.  Threats of
dissolution were not uncommon in the Chamber, and for many days
the spirit of despair brooded over the Convention.  A delegate from
Maryland vehemently declared:  "The Convention is on the verge
of dissolution, scarcely held together by the strength of a hair."
Well has it been said:  "In even the contemplation of the fearful
consequence of such a calamity, the imagination stands aghast."

At the crucial moment mentioned, Sherman and Ellsworth presented
upon behalf of Connecticut the first and most far-reaching of
the great compromises of the Constitution.  The Connecticut plan
was in brief to the effect that in fixing the ratio of representation
there should be recognition alike of the federal and of the national
feature in government, in a word, that in the Lower House the
national, and in the upper the federal principle should have
full recognition.  This was a departure from the Virginia plan
to the extent that it in effect proposed the establishment of a
federal republic,--in the concrete, that the House should be composed
of representatives chosen directly by the people from districts of
equal population; while representation in the Senate should be that
of the States, each, regardless of population, to have two members,
to be chosen at stated periods by their respective legislatures.

After heated debate, this compromise was carried by a bare majority,
and the provision for popular representation in the House, and
equal State representation in the Senate, became engrafted upon
our Federal Constitution.  This feature, an eminent foreign writer has
declared, "is the chief American contribution to the common treasures
of political civilization."  The eminent writer, De Tocqueville,
has well said:  "The principle of the independence of the States
triumphed in the formation of the Senate, and that of the sovereignty
of the nation in the composition of the House of Representatives."

The success of the Connecticut plan made possible that of other
essential compromises which followed; and the result was, as the
sublime consummation of wise deliberation and patriotic concession,
the establishment of the Government of the United States.

It is the proud boast of the Briton, that "the British Constitution
has no single date from which its duration is to be reckoned,
and that the origin of English law is as undiscoverable as that of
the Nile."  Our Government, buttressed upon a written Constitution
of enumerated and logically implied powers, had its historic
beginning upon that masterful day, April 30, 1789, when Washington
took solemn oath of office as our first President.

The Senate of the United States has been truly declared "the greatest
deliberative body known to men."  By Constitutional provision it
consists of two members from each State, chosen by the Legislature
thereof, for the term of six years.  No person has the legal
qualification for Senator "unless he shall have attained the age
of thirty years, be an inhabitant of the State for which he is
chosen, and have been nine years a citizen of the United States."
No State, without its consent, can ever be deprived, even by
Constitutional amendment, of its equal representation in the Senate.
Nevada with a population of less than forty thousand has her equal
voice with New York with a population exceeding seven million.
This anomaly was occasioned by concession by the larger to the
smaller States in the Convention of 1787, a concession which
made possible the establishment of the federal Union.

One essential difference between the House of Representatives
and the Senate is that to the latter "the previous question" is
unknown; no method existing for terminating debate, other than
by unanimous consent.  Here, unlimited discussion and amendment
can have their perfect work.  Within the last three or four decades
many fruitless attempts have been made to introduce a modified
"previous question" or _cloture,_ by which the Senate could be
brought to an immediate vote.  At first blush such change might
seem desirable, but experience has demonstrated the wisdom of
the method to which there has been such steady adherence.  It
secures time for consideration and full discussion upon every
question.  In the end the vote will be taken.  Debate is rarely
prolonged beyond reasonable limit.  Not infrequently the public
welfare is imperilled by too much, rather than too little, legislation.
It was the belief of Jefferson that government should touch the
citizen at the fewest possible points.  The quaint lines of the
old English poet have lost nothing of their significance:

  "How small, of all that human hearts endure,
  That part which laws or kings can cause or cure!"

The House of Representatives has in large degree ceased to be a
deliberative body.  Under the iron rule of the "previous question"
measures of importance are hurriedly passed without the possibility
of discussion or amendment.  The rights of the minority are at
times but as the dust in the balance.

Unlike the House of Lords, the Senate is in reality an important
factor in legislation.  As is well known in recent years, government
in Great Britain is virtually that of the House of Commons, in
large measure through a cabinet practically of its own appointment.
The King is little more than a ceremonial figure-head, and the
House of Lords is almost in a death struggle for existence.  The
end would probably come by serious attempt upon its part to thwart
the popular will as expressed through the House of Commons.  The
power of Edward the Seventh is but a shadow of that exercised almost
without let or hindrance by the predecessors of Queen Victoria.
The veto power, so potent an instrumentality in the hands of the
American President, is to all intents a dead letter in the mythical
British Constitution.  For a century and a half it has remained in
practical abeyance.  It is believed that its attempted exercise at
this day would produce revolution; possibly endanger the existence
of the throne.

By means of what is known as a suspension of the rules, under
the operation of the "previous question," much important legislation
is enacted in our House of Representatives, without the minority
having the privilege of debate, or amendment, or even the necessary
time to a full understanding of the pending measure.  The constantly
recurring "River and Harbor Bill," with its enormous sum total
of appropriations, is a striking object lesson of the vicious
character of such methods.

In the light of what has been suggested, the wisdom displayed in
the establishment of the bicameral, or two-chamber system, in
our legislative scheme, is strikingly apparent.  At the time of
its creation, it had no counterpart in any of the Governments of
continental Europe.  Its only prototype, in so far as it was such,
was the British House of Lords as already indicated.

Save only in the right to originate revenue bills, the power of
the Senate is concurrent with that of the House in all matters
of legislation; and these are wisely subject to amendment by the
Senate.  The presiding officer of the Senate is the Vice-President
of the United States, and in his absence a Senator chosen as
President _pro tempore._

In the event of a failure on the part of the people to elect a
President or a Vice-President of the United States, through electors
duly appointed at the stated time, the duty of such election devolves
upon the House and the Senate acting independently of each other.
The choice of President is limited to the three candidates who have
received the highest number of votes in the several electoral
colleges.  The determination is by the House of Representatives,
the vote being by States.  In such event the vote of Nevada
would again count equally with that of New York.  In the contingency
mentioned, of a failure to elect a Vice-President, the election
devolves upon the Senate, each Senator having a personal vote; and
the person chosen must by Constitutional requirement be one of the
two receiving the highest number of electoral votes.  In 1836, Mr.
Van Buren of New York received a majority of the electoral votes
for President; but no person receiving a majority for the second
office, Colonel Richard M. Johnson, of Kentucky, one of the two
persons eligible, was chosen by the Senate.  No similar instance
has occurred in our history.

In the Presidential election of 1800, and in that of 1824, the
ultimate determination was by the House of Representatives.  In
the former, Jefferson and Burr each received seventy-three electoral
votes, without specification as to whether intended for the first or
second office.  The protracted struggle which followed resulted in
the choice of Jefferson for the higher office.  This fortunate
termination was in large measure through the influence of Alexander
Hamilton, and was the initial step in the bitter personal strife
which eventuated in his early death at the hands of Burr.  In
the light of events, we may well believe that not the least of the
public services of Hamilton was his unselfish interposition at the
critical moment mentioned.  The possibility of similar complication
again arising in the election of the President was soon thereafter
obviated by the Twelfth Amendment to the Constitution.

Seldom in Presidential contests has there been such an array of
great names presented as in that of 1824.  The era of good feeling
which characterized the administration of Monroe found sudden
termination in the rival candidacy of two members of his cabinet, for
the succession--Mr. Adams, Secretary of State, and Mr. Crawford, of
the Treasury.  The other aspirants were Clay, the brilliant Speaker
of the House of Representatives, and Jackson, with laurels yet
fresh from the battlefield of New Orleans.  Mr. Clay receiving the
smallest number of electoral votes, and no candidate the
majority thereof, the selection again devolved upon the House,
resulting eventually in the choice of John Quincy Adams.

In the two Presidential contests last mentioned, the Senate had no
part in the final adjustment.  An occasion, however, arose nearly a
half-century later, involving the succession to the Presidency, in
which the Senate, equally with the House, was an important factor in
the final determination.  The country has known few periods of
profounder anxiety to thoughtful men, or of greater peril to stable
government, than the feverish hours immediately succeeding the
Presidential contest of 1876.  The shadow cast by the Hayes-Tilden
contest even yet, in a measure, lingers.  As a Representative in
Congress at the time, I was deeply impressed with the gravity of
the situation.  In the instances first mentioned it was the mere
question of the failure of any candidate to receive a majority
of the electoral votes.  The framers of the Constitution had wisely
provided for such contingency by action of the House in manner
indicated.  The far more serious question now confronting was, For
whom had the disputed States of Florida and Louisiana cast their
votes?  The settlement of this question virtually determined which
candidate should be inaugurated President.  Conflicting certificates
from the States named had been forwarded to the seat of government,
and were in keeping of the officer designated by law as the custodian
of the electoral returns from the several States.  The contingency
which had now arisen was one for which there was no provision.
The sole function of the joint session of the Senate and the House
was "to open all the certificates and count the votes."  This
was "the be all and end all" of its authority.  Upon the arising
of any question demanding a vote, or even deliberation, the members
of the joint session could only return to their separate chambers.
They could act only in their separate capacities.  In a word,
the perilous exigency presented was, the friends of one candidate having
a majority in the Senate, and of the other in control of the House;
conflicting certificates presented, upon which hinged the result, and
the tension throughout the entire country assuming alarming
proportions.  Coupled with the question of peaceable succession to
the great office was that of the durability of popular government.
Tremendous issues, upon which depended unfathomable consequences, pressed
for settlement; and no tribunal was in existence for their
determination.

The sober second thought of those upon whom was then cast the
responsibility asserted itself at the opportune moment, and a
commission consisting of an equal number of Senators, Representatives,
and Judges of the Great Court was created.  This commission--
extra-Constitutional, as was believed by many--decided as to the
validity of the conflicting certificates, and in effect determined
as to the Presidential succession.

The justification of the act creating the commission might well
rest upon the fact that an overshadowing emergency had arisen,
where necessity becomes the paramount law.  "The pendulum of history
swings in centuries," and a single term of the great office weighed
little in view of the perils that surely awaited a failure to secure
peaceful adjustment.

I may be pardoned for adding that in the retrospect of a life,
no longer a short one, I have no regrets that my humble voice
and vote were given for peaceable and lawful adjustment of a perilous
controversy, that cast its dark shadow across our national pathway
--such a one, as, please God, our country may never witness again.

Unquestionably the least satisfactory of the devices of our Federal
Constitution is that for the election of President and Vice-President
through the instrumentality of colleges of electors chosen by
the several States.  Upon this subject notes of warning have
been many times sounded by eminent statesmen of the past.  In view
of the hazardous complications through which we have happily passed,
and of those which may possibly beset our future pathway as a
nation, it would indeed be the part of wisdom, if by Constitutional
amendment a less complicated and cumbrous instrumentality could be
devised for ascertaining and making effective the popular will
in the selection of President and Vice-President of the United
States.

One of the apprehensions of the framers of the Constitution was
that of executive usurpation of functions lawfully pertaining to
the co-ordinate department of the Government.  This was measurably
guarded against by the provision requiring appointment to high
office to be by and with the advice and consent of the Senate.
While the President by the exercise of the veto power possesses
a negative upon legislation, the Senate by virtue of the provision
quoted has an equally effective negative upon executive appointments
to important office.

To the President is confided primarily the treaty-making power.
Treaties are the law of the land, and their observance in spirit
as well as letter touches the national honor.  Upon this often
depends the issue of peace or war.  Before becoming effective their
ratification by a two-thirds vote of the Senate is indispensable.
From these and other safeguards strikingly appear what are known
as "the checks and balances" of the Constitution.

An important function of the Senate yet to be mentioned is that of
sitting as a high court of impeachment.  The President, Vice-President,
and other high officials are amenable to its jurisdiction.  The
initial step, however, in such procedure is by the House of
Representatives, as the grand inquest of the nation, presenting
articles of impeachment, the Senate possessing the sole power of
trial.  Six times only in our history has the Senate been resolved
into a Court of Impeachment, and only twice--in the case of district
judges--has there been a conviction.  The earliest trial, more than
a century ago, was that of a supreme justice, Chase of Maryland.
Apart from the high official position of the accused, and the august
tribunal before which he was arraigned, this trial is of
historic interest from the fact that it involved the once famous
Alien and Sedition Laws; that John Randolph was chief of the managers
on the part of the House; Pinckney, Martin, and William Wirt of
counsel for the defence; and Vice-President Aaron Burr, the presiding
officer of the court.

The trial of Belknap, Secretary of War, is still within the memory
of many.  As a member of the House, I attended it from the beginning.
It appearing from the evidence that Belknap had resigned his office
before the presentation of the articles of impeachment, he was
acquitted.  The fate of General Belknap was indeed a sad one, that
of a hitherto honorable career suddenly terminated under a cloud.
Morally guiltless himself, his chivalric assumption of responsibility
for the act of one near to him, and his patiently abiding the
consequence, has invested with something of pathos, and even romance,
the memory of his trial.

An impeachment that has left its deep impress upon history, and
before which all others pale into insignificance, was that of
President Johnson, charged by the House of Representatives with
the commission of "high crimes and misdemeanors."  He had been
elected to the second place upon the ticket with Mr. Lincoln in
1864, and upon the death of the latter, succeeded to the Presidency.
Radical differences with the majority in the Congress, upon questions
vital and far-reaching, ultimately culminated in the presentation of
articles of impeachment.  Partisan feeling was at its height,
and the excitement throughout the country intense.  The trial
was protracted for many weeks without jot or tittle of abatement
in the public interest.  The chief managers on the part of the
House were Benjamin F. Butler and Thaddeus Stevens.  The array
of counsel for the accused included the names of Benjamin R. Curtis,
Henry Stanberry, and William M. Evarts.  The Senate, in its high
character of a court, was presided over for the first and only time
by the Chief Justice of the United States.  The trial was conducted
with marked decorum; every phase of questions touching the exercise
of executive authority, or lawful discretion, was fully discussed,
the very springs of legislative power, and its limitation under
Constitutional government, were laid bare--all with an eloquence
unparalleled save only in the wondrous efforts of Sheridan, Fox,
and Burke in the historic impeachment of Warren Hastings before
the British House of Lords.  The spectacle presented was one
that challenged the attention and wonder of the nations; that of
the chief magistrate of a great republic at the bar of justice,
calmly awaiting judgment without popular disturbance or attempted revolt,
under the safeguards of law and its appointments.  The highest test
of the virtue of our system of representative government, and of
the unfaltering devotion of our people to its prescribed methods, is
to be found in the fact, that during the protracted trial the
various departments proceeded with wonted regularity; the verdict of
the Senate was acquiesced in without manifestation of hostility;
partisan passion soon abated and the great impeachment peaceably
relegated to the domain of history.

The House of Representatives has an official life of short duration.
Its reorganization is biennial.  The Senate is enduring.  Always
organized, it is the continuing body of our national legislature.
Its members change, but the Senate continues the same now, as in
the first hour of the Republic.

In his last great speech in the Senate, Mr. Webster said:

"It is fortunate that there is a Senate of the United States; a
body not yet moved from its propriety, not lost to a full sense of
its own dignity and its own high responsibilities, and a body to
which the country looks with confidence for wise, moderate, patriotic,
and healing counsels."

Upon the first assembling of the Senate in its present magnificent
chamber nearly half a century ago, the Vice-President closed his
eloquent dedicatory address with the words:

"Though these marble walls moulder into ruins, the Senate in another
age may bear into a new and larger chamber the Constitution vigorous
and inviolate, and the last generation of posterity shall witness the
deliberations of the representatives of American States still
united, prosperous, and free."



VI
A TRIBUTE TO LINCOLN

THE WRITER'S SPEECH AT THE LINCOLN CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION, 1909
--PATRIOTIC CHARACTER OF THE MEETING--LEADING HISTORICAL EVENTS
BETWEEN 1809 AND 1909--BIRTH OF LINCOLN--TERRITORIAL ORGANIZATION OF
ILLINOIS--BIRTH OF DARWIN AND GLADSTONE--CAREER OF NAPOLEON--WAR
OF 1812--THE SLAVERY QUESTION--SEIZURE AND SURRENDER OF MASON
AND SLIDELL--EMANCIPATION OF SLAVES.

February 12, 1909, will long be remembered as the day of the
celebration of the hundredth anniversary of the birth of Abraham
Lincoln.  For on that day was the culmination of a celebration
which, in various parts of the country, had begun at least a
week before.  Rarely has there been an occasion of so much decoration,
so many addresses, or so much patriotism.  The largest celebration
occurred in New York City, but that of Chicago, if not so large,
was at least as interesting and impressive, for in it and surrounding
parts of Illinois some of the most memorable events in the life of
Lincoln took place.  Yet these manifestations were not a whit more
patriotic than those of many small towns and villages.

Every hamlet, every town, and every city of the United States seemed
to be imbued with a desire to do honor to the memory of the man
Lincoln.  Every newspaper and every magazine of whatever name or
order was filled with pictures, anecdotes, and sketches of the life
of "Honest Abe."  Books galore were published emphasizing every
phase of his life, character, work, and influence; and they sold
well.

My contribution to this occasion was the following speech delivered
at Bloomington, Illinois, February 12:

"We have assembled to commemorate one of the epoch-making events
in history.  In the humblest of homes in the wilds of a new and
sparsely settled State, Abraham Lincoln was born one hundred years
ago, this day.

"The twelfth day of February, like the twenty-second day of the
same month, is one of the sacred days in the American calendar.
It is well that this day be set apart from ordinary uses, the
headlong rush in the crowded mart suspended, the voice of fierce
contention in legislative halls be hushed, and that the American
people--whether at home, in foreign lands, or upon the deep--honor
themselves by honoring the memory of the man of whose birth this
day is the first centennial.

"This coming together is no idle ceremony, no unmeaning observance.
To this man, more than to any other, are we indebted for the supreme
fact that ninety millions of people are at this hour, in the loftiest
sense of the expression, fellow-citizens of a common country.  Some
of us, through the mists of half a century, distinctly recall
the earnest tones in which Mr. Lincoln in public speech uttered
the words, 'My fellow-citizens.'  Truly the magical words
'fellow-citizens' never fail to touch a responsive chord in the
patriotic heart.  Was it the gifted Prentiss who at a critical
moment of our history exclaimed:

"'For whether upon the Sabine or the St. John's; standing in
the shadow of Bunker Hill or amid the ruins of Jamestown; near
the great northern lakes or within the sound of the Father of
Waters flowing unvexed to the sea; in the crowded mart of the
great metropolis or upon the western verge of the continent,
where the restless tide of emigration is stayed only by the
ocean--everywhere upon this broad domain, thank God, I can still
say "fellow-citizens"!'

"Let us pause for a moment and briefly note some of the marvellous
results wrought out by the toil, strife, and sacrifice of the
century whose close we commemorate.  The Year of Our Lord 1809 was
one of large place in history.  The author of the Declaration of
Independence was upon the eve of final retirement from public place,
and the Presidential term of James Madison just beginning, when in
a log cabin near the western verge of civilization the eyes of
Abraham Lincoln first opened upon the world.  The vast area
stretching from the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific Ocean was under
the dominion of Spain.  Two decades only had passed since the
establishment of the United States Government under the Federal
Constitution, and the inauguration of Washington as its first
President.  Lewis and Clark had but recently returned from the now
historic expedition to the Columbia and the Oregon,--an expedition
fraught with momentous consequences to the oncoming generations of
the Republic.  Only five years had passed since President Jefferson
had purchased, for fifteen millions of dollars from Napoleon
Bonaparte, the Louisiana country, extending from the Gulf of Mexico
to the frozen lakes, out of which were to be carved sixteen
magnificent States to become enduring parts of the American
Republic.  From the early Colonial settlements that fringed the
Atlantic, a tide of hardy emigration was setting in to the westward,
and, regardless of privation or danger, laying the sure foundation
of future commonwealths.  Four States only had been admitted into the
Federal Union, and the population of the entire country was less
than that of the State of New York to-day.  This same year witnessed
the first organization of Illinois into a distinct political
community and its creation, by act of Congress, as the Territory
of Illinois, with a white population less than one-twentieth of
that of this good county to-day.  The United States having
barely escaped a war with France,--our ally in securing our
independence,--was earnestly struggling for distinct place among
the nations.

"No less significant, and fraught with deep consequences, were
events occurring in the Old Worlds.  The year 1809 witnessed the
birth of Darwin and Gladstone.  The despotism of the Dark Ages
still brooded over Continental Europe, and whatever savored of
popular public rule--even in its mildest form--was yet in the
distant future.  Alexander the First was on the throne of Russia,--
and her millions of serfs were oppressed as by the iron hand of
the Caesars.  The splendid German Empire of to-day had no place on
the map of the world; its present powerful constituencies were
antagonistic provinces and warring independent cities.  Napoleon
Bonaparte--'calling Fate into the lists'--by a succession of
victories unparalleled in history had overturned thrones, compelled
kings upon bended knee to sue for peace, and substituted those
of his own household for dynasties that reached back the entire
length of human history.  With his star still in the ascendant,
disturbed by no forecast of the horrid nightmare of the retreat
from Moscow, 'with legions scattered by the artillery of the snows
and the cavalry of the winds,' tortured by no dream of Leipsic, of
Elba, of Waterloo, of St. Helena, he was still the 'man of destiny,'
--relentlessly pursuing the _ignis fatuus_ of universal empire.

"The year that witnessed the birth of Abraham Lincoln witnessed
the gathering of the disturbing elements that were to precipitate the
second war with the mother country.  England--with George the Third
still upon the throne--by insulting and cruel search of American
vessels upon the high seas, was rendering inevitable the declaration
of war by Congress,--a war of humiliation upon our part by the
disgraceful surrender of Hull at Detroit and the wanton burning of
our Capitol, but crowned with honor by the naval victories of
Lawrence, Decatur, and Perry, and eventually terminated by the
capture of the British army at New Orleans.  As an object lesson
of the marvels of the closing century, an event of such momentous
consequence to the world as the formulation of the Treaty of Ghent,
by which peace was restored between England and America, would to-day
be known at every fireside a few hours after its occurrence.  And yet,
within the now closing century, the battle of New Orleans was fought
twenty-three days after the Treaty of Ghent, coming by slow-sailing
vessels across the Atlantic, had received the signature of our
commissioners; all unsettled accounts squared eternally between America
and Great Britain; and the United States, by valor no less than by
diplomacy, exalted to honored and enduring place among the nations.

"The fifty-six years that compassed the life of Abraham Lincoln
were years of transcendent significance to our country.  While
he was yet in his rude cradle the African slave trade had just
terminated by constitutional inhibition.  While Lincoln was still in
attendance upon the old field school, Henry Clay--yet to be known as
the 'great pacificator'--was pressing the admission of Missouri
into the Union under the first compromise upon the question of
slavery since the adoption of the Federal Constitution.  From
the establishment of the Government the question of human
slavery was the one perilous question,--the one constant menace to
national unity, until its final extinction amid the flames of war.
Marvellous to man are the purposes of the Almighty.  What seer
could have foretold that, from this humblest of homes upon the
frontier, was to spring the man who at the crucial moment should
cut the Gordian knot, liberate a race, and give to the ages enlarged
and grander conception of the deathless principles of the declaration
of human rights?

  "'Often do the spirits of great events
  Stride on before the events,
  And in to-day already walks to-morrow.'

"The first inauguration of President Lincoln noted the hour of
breaking with the past.  It was a period of gloom, when the very
foundations were shaken, when no man could foretell the happening of
the morrow, when strong men trembled at the possibility of the
destruction of our Government.

"Pause a moment, and recall the man who, under the conditions
mentioned, on the fourth of March, 1861, entered upon the duties
of the great office to which he had been chosen.  He came from the
common walks of life--from what, in other countries, would be called
the great middle class.  His early home was one of the humblest,
where he was a stranger to the luxuries and to many of the ordinary
comforts of life.  His opportunities for education were only such as
were common in the remote habitations of our Western country one
century ago.

"Under such conditions, began a career which in grandeur and
achievement has but a single counterpart in our history.  And what
a splendid commentary this upon our free institutions,--upon the
sublime underlying principle of popular government!  How inspiring
to the youth of high aims every incident of the pathway that led
from the frontier cabin to the Executive Mansion,--from the humblest
position to the most exalted yet attained by man!  In no other
country than ours could such attainment have been possible for the
boy whose hands were inured to toil, whose bread was eaten under
the hard conditions that poverty imposes, whose only heritage
was brain, integrity, lofty ambition, and indomitable purpose.
Let it never be forgotten that the man of whom I speak possessed
an integrity that could know no temptation, a purity of life that was
never questioned, a patriotism that no sectional lines could limit,
and a fixedness of purpose that knew no shadow of turning.

"The decade extending from our first treaty of peace with Great
Britain to the inauguration of Washington has been truly denominated
the critical period of our history.  The eloquence of Adams and
Henry had precipitated revolution; the unfaltering courage of
Washington and his comrades had secured independence; but the more
difficult task of garnering up the fruits of victory by stable
government was yet to be achieved.  The hour for the constructive
statesman had arrived, and James Madison and his associates, equal to
the great emergency, formulated the Federal Constitution.

"No less critical was the period that bounded the active life of
the man whose memory we honor to-day.  One perilous question to
national unity which for nearly three-quarters of a century had
been the subject of repeated compromise by patriotic statesmen;
the apple of discord producing sectional antagonism, whose shadow had
darkened our national pathway from the beginning,--was now for weal
or woe to find determination.  Angry debate in the Senate and upon
the forum was now hushed, and the supreme question that took hold of
national life was to find enduring arbitrament in the dread tribunal
of war.

"It was well that in such an hour, with such tremendous issues
in the balance, a steady hand was at the helm; that a conservative
statesman--one whose mission was to save, not to destroy--was in
the high place of responsibility and power.  It booted little then
that he was untaught of schools, unskilled in the ways of courts, but
it was of supreme moment that he could touch responsive chords
in the great American heart, all-important that his very soul
yearned for the preservation of the Government established through
the toil and sacrifice of the generation that had gone.  How
hopeless the Republic in that dark hour, had its destiny hung upon
the statecraft of Talleyrand, the eloquence of Mirabeau, or the
genius of Napoleon!  It was fortunate indeed that the ark of our
covenant was then borne by the plain, brave man of conciliatory
spirit and kind words, whose heart, as Emerson has said, 'was as
large as the world, but nowhere had room for the memory of a wrong.'

"Nobler words have never fallen from human lips than the closing
sentences of his first inaugural uttered on one of the pivotal days
of human history, immediately after taking the oath to preserve,
protect, and defend his country:

"'I am loath to close.  We are not enemies, but friends.  Though
passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.
The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and
patriot's grave to every heart and hearthstone of this broad land,
will yet swell the chorus of the Union when touched as they will
be by the better angels of our nature.'

"In the light of what we now know so well, nothing is hazarded
in saying that the death of no man has been to his country so
irreparable a loss, or one so grievous to be borne, as that of
Abraham Lincoln.  When Washington died his work was done, his life
well rounded out.  Save one, the years allotted had been passed.
Not so with Lincoln.  To him a grander task was yet in waiting,
one no other could so well perform.  The assassin's pistol proved the
veritable Pandora's box from which sprung evils untold,--whose
consequences have never been measured.--to one-third of the States
of our Union.  But for his untimely death how the current of history
might have been changed,--and many a sad chapter remained unwritten!
How earnestly he desired a restored Union, and that the blessings of
peace and of concord should be the common heritage of every section,
is known to all.

"When in the loom of time have such words been heard above the din
of fierce conflict as his sublime utterances but a brief time before
his tragic death--

"'With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness
in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on
to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds; to
care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow
and his orphan, to do all which may achieve a lasting peace
among ourselves, and with all nations.'

"No fitter occasion than this can ever arise in which to refer
to two historical events that at crucial moments tested to the
utmost the safe and far-seeing statesmanship of President Lincoln.
The first was the seizure upon the high seas of Mason and Slidell,
the accredited representatives from the Southern Confederacy to
the courts of England and France, respectively.  The seizure was
in November, 1861, by Captain Wilkes of our navy; and the envoys
named were taken by him from the _Trent,_ a mail-carrying steamer of
the British Government.  The act of Captain Wilkes met with
enthusiastic commendation throughout the entire country; he was
voted the thanks of Congress, and his act publicly approved by the
Secretary of the Navy.

"The demand by the British government for reparation upon the part
of the United States was prompt and explicit.  The perils that then
environed us were such as rarely shadow the pathway of nations.
Save Russia alone, our Government had no friend among the crowned heads
of Europe.  Menaced by the peril of the recognition of the Southern
Confederacy by England and France, with the very stars apparently warring
against us in their courses, the position of the President was
in the last degree trying.  To surrender the Confederate envoys
was in a measure humiliating and in opposition to the popular
impulse; their retention, the signal for the probable recognition of
the Southern Confederacy by the European powers, and the certain
and immediate declaration of war by England.

"The good genius of President Lincoln--rather his wise, just,
far-seeing statesmanship--stood him well in hand at the critical
moment.  Had a rash and impulsive man then held the executive
office, what a sea of troubles might have overwhelmed us!  How the
entire current of our history might have been changed!

"The calm, wise President, in his council chamber, aided by his
closest official adviser, Secretary Seward, discerned clearly
the path of national safety and of honor.  None the less was the
act of the President one of justice, one that will abide the
sure test of time.  Upon the real ground that the seizure of the
envoys was in violation of the Law of Nations, they were eventually
surrendered, and war with England, as well as the immediate danger
of recognition of the Confederacy, averted.  Let it not be forgotten
that this very act of President Lincoln was a triumphant vindication
of our Government in its second war with Great Britain--a war waged
as a protest on our part against British seizure and impressment
of American citizens upon the high seas.

"The other incident, to which I briefly refer, was the proclamation
of emancipation.  As a war measure of stupendous significance in
the national defence, as well as of justice to the enslaved,
such proclamation, immediate in time and radical in terms, had
to greater or less degree been urged upon the President from the
outbreak of the Rebellion.  That slavery was to perish amid the
great upheaval became in time the solemn conviction of all thoughtful
men.  Meanwhile there were divided counsels among the earnest
supporters of the President as to the time the masterful act 'that
could know no backward steps' should be taken.  Unmoved amid divided
counsels, and at times fierce dissensions, the calm, far-seeing
executive, upon whom was cast the tremendous responsibility,
patiently bided his time.  Events that are now the masterful theme
of history crowded in rapid succession, the opportune moment arrived,
the hour struck, the proclamation that has no counterpart fell upon
the ears of the startled world, and, as by the interposition of a
mightier hand, a race was lifted out of the depths of bondage.

"To the one man at the helm it seemed to have been given to know
the day and the hour.  At the crucial moment, in one of the exalted
days of human history,

  "'He sounded forth the trumpet that has never called
  retreat.'

"The men who knew Abraham Lincoln, who saw him face to face, who
heard his voice in public assemblage, have with few exceptions
passed to the grave.  Another generation is upon the busy stage.
The book has forever closed upon the dreadful pageant of civil
strife.  Sectional animosities, thank God, belong now only to
the past.  The mantle of Peace is over our entire land, and prosperity
within our borders.

  "'The war-drum throbs no longer,
  And the battle flags are furled
  In the parliament of men,
  The federation of the world.'

"Through the instrumentality, in no small measure, of the man whose
memory we now honor, the Government established by our fathers,
untouched by the finger of Time, has descended to us.  The
responsibility of its preservation and transmission rests upon the
successive generations as they come and go.  To-day, at this
auspicious hour sacred to the memory of Lincoln, let us, his
countrymen, inspired by the sublime lessons of his wondrous life, and
grateful to God for all He has vouchsafed to our fathers and to us
in the past, take courage and turn our faces resolutely, hopefully,
trustingly to the future.  I know of no words more fitting with
which to close this humble tribute to the memory of Abraham Lincoln,
than those inscribed upon the monument of Moliere:

  "'Nothing was wanting to his glory; he was wanting to
  ours.'"



VII
STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS

DOUGLAS'S HARDSHIPS IN YOUTH--HE IS ADMITTED TO THE BAR--JACKSON'S
TRIUMPH OVER ADAMS IN 1828--DOUGLAS ENTERS THE ARENA OF DEBATE
AT THE AGE OF 22--BECOMES ATTORNEY-GENERAL--CHOSEN TO THE TENTH
GENERAL ASSEMBLY OF ILLINOIS--BECOMES SECRETARY OF STATE IN ILLINOIS
--DEFENDS JACKSON'S DECLARATION OF MARTIAL LAW AT NEW ORLEANS--
TAKES PART IN THE OREGON BOUNDARY DEBATE--ADVOCATES THE ANNEXATION
OF TEXAS--IS ELECTED TO THE SENATE--ADVOCATES THE ADMISSION OF
CALIFORNIA AS A FREE STATE--HE PROCURES A LAND GRANT TO THE ILLINOIS
CENTRAL RAILROAD COMPANY--IN DEBATING THE KANSAS-NEBRASKA BILL
HE CONTENDS FOR POPULAR SOVEREIGNTY--ORIGIN OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY
--DOUGLAS LOSES THE FRIENDSHIP OF THE SOUTH--DEBATES BETWEEN DOUGLAS
AND LINCOLN--LINCOLN'S EARLY HISTORY--DOUGLAS'S REASONS FOR
ADVOCATING POPULAR SOVEREIGNTY--LINCOLN'S REPLY--THE SLAVERY QUESTION
--THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY RENT ASUNDER--CONSEQUENT FAILURE OF DOUGLAS
TO WIN THE PRESIDENCY--HIS DEATH.

History has been defined, "the sum of the biographies of a few
strong men."  Much that is of profound and abiding interest in
American history during the two decades immediately preceding
our Civil War is bound up in the biography of the strong man of
whom I write.  Chief among the actors, his place was near the middle
of the stage during that eventful and epoch-making period.

Stephen A. Douglas was born in Brandon, Vermont, April 23, 1813,
and died in Chicago, Illinois, June 3, 1861.  Between the dates
given lie the years that up a crowded, eventful life.  Left penniless
by the death of his father, he was at a tender age dependent upon his
own exertions for maintenance and education.  At the age of fifteen
he apprenticed himself to a cabinet-maker in the town of Middlebury
in his native State.  Naturally of delicate organization, he was
unable long to endure the physical strain of this calling, and
at the close of two years' service he returned to his early home.
Entering an academy in Brandon, he there for a time pursued with
reasonable diligence the studies preparatory to a higher course.
Supplementing the education thus acquired, by a brief course of
study in an academy at Canandaigua, New York, at the age of twenty
he turned his footsteps westward.

One of his biographers says:

"It is doubtful if among all the thousands who in those early days
were constantly faring westward from New England, Virginia, and
the Carolinas, there ever was a youth more resolutely and boldly
addressed to opportunity than he.  Penniless, broken in health,
almost diminutive in physical stature, and unknown, he made his
way successively to Cincinnati, Louisville, and St. Louis, in search
of employment, literally of bread."

By a sudden turn in fortune's wheel his lot was cast in Central
Illinois, where his first vocation was that of teacher of a village
school.  Yet later--after laborious application--admitted to the
bar, he courageously entered upon his marvellous career.

His home was Jacksonville, and to the hardy pioneers of Morgan and
neighboring counties, it was soon revealed that notwithstanding
his slight stature and boyish appearance the youthful Douglas was at
once to be taken fully into the account.  Self-reliant to the very
verge, he unhesitatingly entered the arena of active professional and
political strife with foemen worthy the steel of veterans at the
bar, and upon the hustings.

The issues were sharply drawn between the two political parties
then struggling for ascendancy, and Central Illinois was the home of
as brilliant an array of gifted leaders as the Whig party at any
time in its palmiest days had known.  Hardin, Stuart, Browning,
Logan, Baker, Lincoln were just then upon the threshold of careers
that have given their names honored and enduring place upon the
pages of our history.  Into the safe keeping of the leaders just
named, were entrusted in large degree the advocacy of the principles
of the now historic party, and the political fortunes of its great
chieftain, Henry Clay.

As is well known, the principal antagonist of the renowned Whig
chieftain was Andrew Jackson.  Earlier in their political careers,
both had been earnest supporters of the administration of President
Monroe, but at its close the leaders last named, with Adams and
Crawford, were aspirants to the great office.  No candidate receiving
a majority of the electoral votes and the selection by Constitutional
requirement devolving upon the House of Representatives, Mr. Adams
was eventually chosen.  His election over his principal competitor,
General Jackson, was largely through the influence of Mr. Clay;
and the subsequent acceptance by the latter of the office of
Secretary of State gave rise to the unfounded but vehement cry
of "Bargain and corruption," which followed the Kentucky statesman
through two presidential struggles of later periods, and died wholly
away only when the clods had fallen upon his grave.

Triumphant in his candidacy over Adams in 1828, President Jackson,
four years later, encountered as his formidable competitor his
colossal antagonist--the one man for whom he had no forgiveness,
even when the shadows were gathering about his own couch.

"The early and better days of the Republic" is by no means an
unusual expression in the political literature of our day.  Possibly
all the generations of men have realized the significance of the
words of the great bard:

  "Past and to come seem best;
  Things present worst.
  We are time's subjects."

And yet, barring the closing months of the administration of the
elder Adams, this country has known no period of more intense party
passion, or of more deadly feuds among political leaders, than was
manifested during the presidential contest of 1832.  The Whig party,
with Henry Clay as its candidate and its idol, was for the first
time in the field.  Catching something of the spirit of its imperious
leader, its campaign was recklessly aggressive.  The scabbard was
thrown away, and all the lines of retreat cut off from the beginning.
No act of the party in power escaped the lime-light; no delinquency,
real or imaginary, of Jackson--its candidate for re-election--
but was ruthlessly drawn into the open day.  Even the domestic
hearthstone was invaded and antagonisms engendered that knew no
surcease until the last of the chief participants in the
eventful struggle had descended to the tomb.

The defeat of Clay but intensified his hostility toward his successful
rival, and with a following that in personal devotion to its leader
has scarcely known a parallel, he was at once the peerless front
of a powerful opposition to the Jackson administration.

Such were the existing political conditions throughout the country
when Stephen A. Douglas, at the age of twenty-two, first entered
the arena of debate.  It would not be strange if such environment left
its deep impress, and measurably gave direction to his political
career.  The period of probation and training so essential to
ordinary men was unneeded by him.  Fully equipped--and with a
self-confidence that has rarely had a counterpart--he was from the
beginning the earnest defender of the salient measures of the
Democratic administration, and the aggressive champion of President
Jackson.  Absolutely fearless, he took no reckoning of the opposing
forces, and regardless of the prowess or ripe experience of
adversaries, he at all times, in and out of season, gladly welcomed
the encounter.  To this end, he did not await opportunities, but
eagerly sought them.

His first contest for public office was with John J. Hardin, by no
means the least gifted of the brilliant Whig leaders already
mentioned.  Defeated by Douglas in his candidacy for re-election
to the office of Attorney General, Colonel Hardin at a later day
achieved distinction as a Representative in Congress, and at the
early age of thirty-seven fell while gallantly leading his regiment
upon the bloody field of Buena Vista.  In the catalogue of men
worthy of remembrance, there is to be found the name of no braver,
manlier man, than that of John J. Hardin.

With well-earned laurels as public prosecutor, Douglas resigned,
after two years' incumbency of that office, to accept that of
Representative in the State Legislature.  The Tenth General Assembly
--to which he was chosen--was the most notable in Illinois history.
Upon the roll of members of the House--in the old Capitol at Vandalia
--are names inseparably associated with the history of the State
and the nation.  From its list were yet to be chosen two Governors
of the commonwealth, one member of the Cabinet, three Justices
of the Supreme Court of the State, eight Representatives in Congress,
six Senators, and one President of the United States.  That
would indeed be a notable assemblage of law-makers in any country or
time, that included in its membership McClernand, Edwards,
Ewing, Semple, Logan, Hardin, Browning, Shields, Baker, Stuart,
Douglas, and Lincoln.

In this assembly, Douglas encountered in impassioned debate, possibly
for the first time, two men against whom in succession he was soon
to be opposed upon the hustings as candidate for Congress; and
later as an aspirant to yet more exalted stations, another, with
whose name--now "given to the ages"--his own is linked inseparably
for all time.

The most brilliant and exciting contest for the national House
of Representatives the State has known--excepting possibly that of
Cook and McLean a decade and a half earlier--was that of 1838
between John T. Stuart and Stephen A. Douglas.  They were the
recognized champions of their respective parties.  The district
embraced two-thirds of the area of the State, extending from the
counties immediately south of Sangamon and Morgan, northward to
Lake Michigan and the Wisconsin line.  Together on horseback, often
across unbridged streams, and through pathless forest and prairie,
they journeyed, holding joint debates in all the county seats of
the district--including the then villages of Jacksonville, Springfield,
Peoria, Pekin, Bloomington, Quincy, Joliet, Galena, and Chicago.
That the candidates were well matched in ability and eloquence
readily appears from the fact that after an active canvass of
several months, Major Stuart was elected by a majority of but eight
votes.  By re-elections he served six years in the House of
Representatives and was one of its ablest and most valuable members.
In Congress, he was the political friend and associate of
Crittenden, Winthrop, Clay, and Webster.  Major Stuart lives in my
memory as a splendid type of the Whig statesman of the Golden Age.
Courteous and kindly, he was at all times a Kentucky gentleman
of the old school if ever one trod this blessed earth.

Returning to the bar after his defeat for Congress, Douglas was,
in quick succession, Secretary of State by appointment of the
Governor, and Judge of the Circuit and Supreme Courts by election by
the Legislature.  The courts he held as _nisi prius_ judge were in
the Quincy circuit, and the last-named city for a time his home.
His associates upon the Supreme Bench were Justices Treat, Caton, Ford,
Wilson, Scates, and Lockwood.  His opinions, twenty-one in number,
will be found in Scammon's Reports.  There was little in any of
the causes submitted to test fully his capacity as lawyer or
logician.  Enough, however, appears from his clear and concise
statements and arguments to justify the belief that had his life
been unreservedly given to the profession of the law, his
talents concentrated upon the mastery of its eternal principles,
he would in the end have been amply rewarded "by that mistress who
is at the same time so jealous and so just."  This, however, was
not to be, and to a field more alluring his footsteps were now
turned.  Abandoning the bench to men less ambitious, he was soon
embarked upon the uncertain and delusive sea of politics.

His unsuccessful opponent for Congress in 1842 was the Hon. Orville
H. Browning, with whom, in the State Legislature, he had measured swords
over a partisan resolution sustaining the financial policy of
President Jackson.  "The whirligig of time brings in his revenges,"
and it so fell out that near two decades later it was the fortune of
Mr. Browning to occupy a seat in the Senate as the successor of
Douglas--"touched by the finger of death."  At a later day, Mr.
Browning, as a member of the Cabinet of President Johnson, acquitted
himself with honor in the discharge of the exacting duties of
Secretary of the Interior.  So long as men of high aims, patriotic
hearts, and noble achievements are held in grateful remembrance,
his name will have honored place in our country's annals.

The career upon which Douglas now entered was the one for which he
was pre-eminently fitted, and to which he had aspired from the
beginning.  It was a career in which national fame was to be
achieved, and--by re-elections to the House, and later to the Senate
--to continue without interruption to the last hour of his life.
He took his seat in the House of Representatives, December 5, 1843,
and among his colleagues were Semple and Breese of the Senate, and
Hardin, McClernand, Ficklin, and Wentworth of the House.  Mr.
Stephens of Georgia,--with whom it was my good fortune to serve in
the forty-fourth and forty-sixth Congresses--told me that he entered
the House the same day with Douglas, and that he distinctly recalled
the delicate and youthful appearance of the latter as he advanced to
the Speaker's desk to receive the oath of office.  Conspicuous
among the leaders of the House in the twenty-eighth Congress were
Hamilton Fish, Washington Hunt, Henry A. Wise, Howell Cobb, Joshua
R. Giddings, Linn Boyd, John Slidell, Barnwell Rhett, Robert C.
Winthrop, the Speaker, Hannibal Hamlin, elected Vice-President upon
the ticket with Mr. Lincoln in 1860, Andrew Johnson, the successor
of the lamented President in 1865, and John Quincy Adams, whose
brilliant career as Ambassador, Senator, Secretary of State, and
President, was rounded out by nearly two decades of faithful service
as a Representative in Congress.

The period that witnessed the entrance of Douglas into the great
Commons was an eventful one in our political history.  John Tyler,
upon the death of President Harrison, had succeeded to the great
office, and was in irreconcilable hostility to the leaders of
his party upon the vital issues upon which the Whig victory of 1840
had been achieved.  Henry Clay--then at the zenith of his marvellous
powers--merciless in his arraignment of the Tyler administration, was
unwittingly breeding the party dissentions that eventually compassed
his own defeat in his last struggle for the Presidency.  Daniel
Webster, regardless of the criticism of party associates, and after
the retirement of his Whig colleagues from the Tyler cabinet, still
remained at the head of the State Department.  His vindication, if
needed, abundantly appears in the treaty by which our northeastern
boundary was definitely adjusted, and war with England happily
averted.

In the rush of events, party antagonisms, in the main, soon fade
from remembrance.  One, however, that did not pass with the occasion,
but lingered even to the shades of the Hermitage, was unrelenting
hostility to President Jackson.  For his declaration of martial law in
New Orleans just prior to the battle--with which his own name is
associated for all time--General Jackson had been subjected to a heavy
fine by a judge of that city.  Repeated attempts in Congress looking to
his vindication and reimbursement, had been unavailing.  Securing the
floor for the first time, Douglas--upon the anniversary of the great
victory--delivered an impassioned speech in vindication of Jackson
which at once challenged the attention of the country, and gave him high
place among the great debaters of that memorable Congress.  In
reply to the demand of an opponent for a precedent for the proposed
legislation, Douglas quickly responded:

"Possibly, sir, no case can be found on any page of American history
where the commanding officer has been fined for an act absolutely
necessary to the salvation of his country.  As to precedents, let us make
one now that will challenge the admiration of the world and stand the
test of all the ages."

After a graphic description of conditions existing in New Orleans at
the time of Jackson's declaration of martial law, "the city filled
with traitors, anxious to surrender; spies transmitting information
to the camp of the enemy, British regulars--four-fold the number
of the American defenders--advancing to the attack--in this terrible
emergency, necessity became the paramount law, the responsibility was
taken, martial law declared, and a victory achieved unparalleled
in the annals of war; a victory that avenged the infamy of the
wanton burning of our nation's Capitol, fully, and for all time."

The speech was unanswered, the bill passed, and probably Douglas
knew no prouder moment than when, a few months later, upon a visit
to the Hermitage, he received the earnest thanks of the venerable
commander for his masterly vindication.

Two of the salient and far-reaching questions confronting the
statesmen of that eventful Congress pertained to the settlement of
the Oregon boundary question, and to the annexation of the republic
of Texas.  The first-named question--left unsettled by the treaty of
Ghent--had been for two generations the apple of discord between
the American and British governments.  That it at a critical moment
came near involving the two nations in a war is a well-known fact
in history.  The platform upon which Mr. Polk had, in 1844, been
elected to the Presidency, asserted unequivocally the right of the
United States to the whole of the Oregon Territory.  The boundary line
of "fifty-four-forty" was in many of the States the decisive party
watchword in that masterful contest.

Douglas, in full accord with his party upon this question, ably
canvassed Illinois in earnest advocacy of Mr. Polk's election.
When, at a later day, it was determined by the President and his
official advisers to abandon the party platform demand of "fifty-four
degrees and forty minutes" as the only settlement of the
disputed boundary, and accept that of the parallel of forty-nine
degrees--reluctantly proposed by Great Britain as a peaceable final
settlement--Mr. Douglas earnestly antagonizing any concession, was
at once in opposition to the administration he had assisted to
bring into power.  Whether the part of wisdom was a strict adherence
to the platform dicta of "the whole of Oregon," or a reasonable
concession in the interest of peaceable adjustment of a dangerous
question, was long a matter of vehement discussion.  It suffices that
the treaty with Great Britain establishing our northwestern boundary
upon the parallel last named was promptly ratified by the Senate, and
the once famous Oregon question peaceably relegated to the realm
of history.

A question--sixty odd years ago--equal in importance with that
of the Oregon boundary was the annexation of Texas.  The "Lone Star
State" had been virtually an independent republic since the decisive
victory of General Houston over Santa Ana in 1837 at San Jacinto, and
its independence as such had been acknowledged by our own and
European governments.  The hardy settlers of this new Commonwealth
were in the main emigrants from the United States, and earnestly
solicitous of admission into the Federal Union.  The question of
annexation entered largely into the Presidential canvass of 1844, and
the "lone star" upon Democratic banners was an important factor in
securing the triumph of Mr. Polk in that bitterly contested
election.  In the closing hours of the Tyler administration,
annexation was at length effected by joint resolution of Congress,
and Texas passed at once from an independent republic to a State
of the American Union.  This action of Congress, however, gave deep
offence to the Mexican government, and was the initial in a series
of stirring events soon to follow.  The Mexican invasion, the
brilliant victories won by American valor, and the treaty of peace
--by which our domain was extended westward to the Pacific--
constitute a thrilling chapter in the annals of war.  Brief in
duration, the Mexican War was the training school for men whose
military achievements were yet to make resplendent the pages of
history.  Under the victorious banners of the great commanders,
Taylor and Scott, were Thomas and Beauregard, Shields and Hill,
Johnston and Sherman, McClellan and Longstreet, Hancock and Stonewall
Jackson, Lee and Grant.  In the list of heroes were eight future
candidates for the Presidency, three of whom--Taylor, Pierce,
and Grant--were triumphantly elected.

Meanwhile, at the nation's Capitol was held high debate over
questions second in importance to none that have engaged the profound
consideration of statesmen--that literally took hold of the issues
of war, conquest, diplomacy, peace, empire.  From its inception,
Douglas was an unfaltering advocate of the project of annexation, and
as chairman of the Committee on Territories, bore prominent part
in the protracted and exciting debates consequent upon the passage
of that measure in the House of Representatives.  In his celebrated
colloquy with Mr. Adams he contended that the joint resolution
he advocated was in reality only for the re-annexation of territory
originally ours under the Louisiana Purchase of 1803.  That something
akin to the spirit of "manifest destiny" brooded over the discussion
may be gathered from the closing sentences of his speech:

"Our Federal system is admirably adapted to the whole continent;
and while I would not violate the laws of national or treaty
stipulations, or in any manner tarnish the national honor, I would
exert all legal and honorable means to drive Great Britain and the
last vestige of royal authority from the continent of North America,
and extend the limits of the republic from ocean to ocean."

Elected to the Senate at the age of thirty-four, Douglas took
his seat in that august body in December, 1847.  On the same day
Abraham Lincoln took the oath of office as a member from Illinois in
the House of Representatives.  The Senate was presided over by the
able and accomplished Vice-President, George M. Dallas.  Seldom
has there been a more imposing list of great names than that which
now included the young Senator from Illinois.  Conspicuous among
the Senators of the thirty States represented, were Dix of New
York, Dayton of New Jersey, Hale of New Hampshire, Clayton of
Delaware, Reverdy Johnson of Maryland, Mason of Virginia, King
of Alabama, Davis of Mississippi, Bell of Tennessee, Corwin of
Ohio, Crittenden of Kentucky, Breese of Illinois, Benton of Missouri,
Houston of Texas, Calhoun of South Carolina, and Webster of
Massachusetts.  It need hardly be said that the debates of that
and the immediately succeeding Congress have possibly never been
surpassed in ability and eloquence by any deliberative assembly.

The one vital and portentous question--in some one of its many
phases--was that of human slavery.  This institution--until its
final extinction amid the flames of war--cast its ominous shadow
over our nation's pathway from the beginning.  From the establishment
of the Government under the Federal Constitution to the period
mentioned, it had been the constant subject of compromise and
concession.

Henry Clay was first known as "the great pacificator" by his tireless
efforts in the exciting struggle of 1820, over the admission of
Missouri--with its Constitution recognizing slavery--into the
Federal Union.  Bowed with the weight of years, the Kentucky
statesman, from the retirement he had sought, in recognition of
the general desire of his countrymen, again returned to the theatre
of his early struggles and triumphs.  The fires of ambition had
burned low by age and bereavement, but with earnest longing that
he might again pour oil upon the troubled waters, he presented
to the Senate, as terms of final peaceable adjustment of the slavery
question, the once famous compromise measures of 1850.

The sectional agitation then at its height was measurably the result
of the proposed disposition of territory acquired by the then recent
treaty with Mexico.  The advocates and opponents of slavery extension
were at once in bitter antagonism, and the intensity of feeling
such as the country had rarely known.

The compromise measures--proposed by Mr. Clay in a general bill
--embraced the establishment of Territorial Governments for Utah
and New Mexico, the settlement of the Texas boundary, an amendment
to the Fugitive Slave Law, and the admission of California as a
free State.  In entire accord with each proposition, Douglas had--by
direction of the Committee on Territories, of which he was the
chairman--reported a bill providing for the immediate admission of
California under its recently adopted free State Constitution.
Separate measures embracing the other propositions of the general bill
were likewise duly reported.  These measures were advocated by the
Illinois Senator in a speech that at once won him recognized place
among the great debaters of that illustrious assemblage.  After
many weeks of earnest, at times vehement, debate, the bills in the
form last mentioned were passed, and received the approval of
the President.  Apart from the significance of these measures as
a peace offering to the country, their passage closed a memorable era
in our history.  During their discussion Clay, Calhoun, and Webster
--"the illustrious triumvirate"--were heard for the last time in
the Senate.  Greatest of the second generation of our statesmen,
associated in the advocacy of measures that in the early day of
the Republic had given us exalted place among the nations,
within brief time of each other, "shattered by the contentions
of the Great Hall, they passed to the chamber of reconciliation and
of silence."

Chief in importance of his public services to his State was that
of Senator Douglas in procuring from Congress a land grant to aid in
the construction of the Illinois Central Railroad.  It is but
justice to the memory of his early colleague, Senator Breese, to
say that he had been the earnest advocate of a similar measure in a
former Congress.  The bill, however, which after persistent opposition
finally became a law, was introduced and warmly advocated by Senator
Douglas.  This act ceded to the State of Illinois--subject to
the disposal of the Legislature thereof--"for the purpose of aiding
in the construction of a railroad from the southern terminus of
the Illinois and Michigan Canal to a point at or near the junction
of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, with a branch of the same to
Chicago, and another to Dubuque, Iowa, every alternate section
of land designated by even numbers for six sections in width on
each side of said road, and its branches."  It is difficult at this
day to realize the importance of this measure to the then sparsely
settled State.  The grant in aggregate was near three million acres,
and was directly to the State.  After appropriate action by the
State Legislature, the Illinois Central Railroad Company was duly
organized--and the road eventually constructed.

A recent historian has truly said:

"For this, if for no other public service to his State, the name
of Douglas was justly entitled to preservation by the erection
of that splendid monumental column which, overlooking the blue
waters of Lake Michigan, also overlooks for long distance that iron
highway which was in no small degree the triumph of his legislative
forecast and genius."

The measure now to be mentioned aroused deeper attention--more
anxious concern--throughout the entire country than any with which
the name of Douglas had yet been closely associated.  It pertained
directly to slavery, the "bone of contention" between the North
and the South, the one dangerous quantity in our national politics
from the establishment of the Government.  Beginning with its
recognition--though not in direct terms--in the Federal Constitution,
it had through two generations, in the interest of peace, been the
subject of repeated compromise.

As chairman of the Senate Committee on Territories, Douglas in the
early days of 1854 reported a bill providing for the organization of
the Territories of Nebraska and Kansas.  This measure, which so
suddenly arrested public attention, is known in our political
history as the "Kansas-Nebraska Bill."  Among its provisions was
one repealing the Missouri Compromise or restriction of 1820.  The
end sought by the repeal was, as stated by Douglas, to leave the
people of said Territories respectively to determine the question of
the introduction or exclusion of slavery for themselves; in
other words, "to regulate their domestic institutions in their own
way, subject only to the Constitution of the United States."
The principle strenuously contended for was that of "popular
sovereignty" or non-intervention by Congress, in the affairs of
the Territories.  In closing the protracted and exciting debate
just prior to the passage of the bill in the Senate, he said:

"There is another reason why I desire to see this principle recognized
as a rule of action in all time to come.  It will have the effect to
destroy all sectional parties and sectional agitation.  If you
withdraw the slavery question from the halls of Congress and the
political arena, and commit it to the arbitrament of those who are
immediately interested in and alone responsible for its consequences,
there is nothing left out of which sectional parties can be organized.
When the people of the North shall all be rallied under one banner,
and the whole South marshalled under another banner, and each
section excited to frenzy and madness by hostility to the institutions
of the other, then the patriot may well tremble for the perpetuity
of the Union.  Withdraw the slavery question from the political
arena and remove it to the States and Territories, each to decide for
itself, and such a catastrophe can never happen."

These utterances of little more than half a century ago, fall
strangely upon our ears at this day.  In the light of all that has
occurred in the long reach of years, how significant the words,
"No man is wiser than events"!  Likewise, "The actions of men are to
be judged by the light surrounding them at the time--not by the
knowledge that comes after the fact."  The immediate effect of the
passage of the Kansas-Nebraska Bill was directly the reverse of
that so confidently predicted by Douglas.  The era of concord
between the North and the South did not return.  The slavery
question--instead of being relegated to the recently organized
Territories for final settlement--at once assumed the dimensions
of a great national issue.  The country at large--instead of a
single Territory--became the theatre of excited discussion.  The
final determination was to be not that of a Territory, but of
the entire people.

One significant effect of the passage of the bill was the immediate
disruption of the Whig party.  As a great national organization
--of which Clay and Webster had been eminent leaders, and Harrison
and Taylor successful candidates for the Presidency--it now passes
into history.  Upon its ruins, the Republican party at once came
into being.  Under the leadership of Fremont as its candidate, and
opposition by Congressional intervention to slavery extension as
its chief issue, it was a formidable antagonist to the Democratic party,
in the Presidential contest of 1856.  Mr. Buchanan had defeated
Douglas in the nominating convention of his party that year.
His absence from the country as Minister to England, during the
exciting events just mentioned, it was thought would make him a
safer candidate than his chief competitor, Douglas.  He had been
in no manner identified with the Kansas-Nebraska Bill, or the stormy
events which immediately followed its passage.  In his letter of
acceptance, however, Mr. Buchanan had given his unqualified approval
of his party platform, which recognized and adopted "the principle
contained in the organic law establishing the Territories of Nebraska
and Kansas as embodying the only sound and safe solution of the
slavery question."  Upon the principle here declared, issue was
joined by his political opponents, and the battle fought to the
bitter end.

Although Douglas had met personal defeat in his aspiration to
the Presidency, the principle of non-intervention by Congress in
the affairs of the Territories, for which he had so earnestly
contended, had been triumphant both in the convention of the party,
and at the polls.  This principle, in its application to Kansas,
was soon to be put to the test.  From its organization, that
Territory had been a continuous scene of disorder, often of violence.
In rapid succession three Governors appointed by the President had
resigned and departed the Territory, each confessing his inability
to maintain public order.  The struggle for mastery between the
Free State advocates and their adversaries arrested the attention of
the entire country.  It vividly recalled the bloody forays read of
in the old chronicles of hostile clans upon the Scottish border.

The parting of the ways between Senator Douglas and President
Buchanan was now reached.  The latter had received the cordial
support of Douglas in the election which elevated him to the
Presidency.  His determined opposition to the re-election of Douglas
became apparent as the Senatorial canvass progressed.  The incidents
now to be related will explain this hostility, as well as bring to
the front one of the distinctive questions upon which much stress was
laid in the subsequent debates between Douglas and Lincoln.

A statesman of national reputation, the Hon. Robert J. Walker, was
at length appointed Governor of Kansas.  During his brief administration
a convention assembled without his co-operation at Lecompton,
and formulated a Constitution under which application was soon made
for the admission of Kansas into the Union.  This convention was
in part composed of non-residents, and in no sense reflected the
wishes of the majority of the _bona fide_ residents of the Territory.
The salient feature of the Constitution was that establishing
slavery.  The Constitution was not submitted to the convention
to popular vote, but in due time forwarded to the President, and
by him laid before Congress, accompanied by a recommendation for
its approval, and the early admission of the new State into the
Union.

When the Lecompton Constitution came before the Senate, it at once
encountered the formidable opposition of Senator Douglas.  In
unmeasured terms he denounced it as fraudulent, as antagonistic to
the wishes of the people of Kansas, and subversive of the basic
principle upon which the Territory had been organized.  In the
attitude just assumed, Douglas at once found himself in line
with the Republicans, and in opposition to the administration he
had helped place in power.  The breach thus created was destined
to remain unhealed.  Moreover, his declaration of hostility to the
Lecompton Constitution was the beginning of the end of years of
close political affiliation with Southern Democratic statesmen.
From that moment Douglas lost prestige as a national leader of his
party.  In more than one-half of the Democratic States he ceased to
be regarded as a probable or even possible candidate for the
Presidential succession.  The hostility thus engendered followed
him to the Charleston convention of 1860, and throughout the exciting
Presidential contest which followed.  But the humiliation of defeat
--brought about, as he believed, by personal hostility to himself--
was yet in the future.  In the attempted admission of Kansas under
the Lecompton Constitution, Douglas was triumphant over the
administration and his former political associates from the South.
Under what was known as the "English Amendment," the obnoxious
Constitution was referred to the people of Kansas, and by them
overwhelmingly rejected.

The close of this controversy in the early months of 1858 left
Douglas in a position of much embarrassment.  He had incurred
the active hostility of the President, and in large measure of his
adherents, without gaining the future aid of his late associates
in the defeat of the Lecompton Constitution.  His Senatorial term was
nearing its close, and his political life depended upon his
re-election.  With a united and aggressive enemy, ably led, in his
front; his own party hopelessly divided--one faction seeking his
defeat--it can readily be seen that his political pathway was by no
means one of peace.  Such, in brief outline, were the political
conditions when, upon the adjournment of Congress, Douglas returned
to Illinois in July, 1858, and made public announcement of his
candidacy for re-election.

In his speech at Springfield, June 17, accepting the nomination of
his party for the Senate, Mr. Lincoln had uttered the words which have
since become historic.  They are quoted at length, as they soon
furnished the text for his severe arraignment by Douglas in debate.
The words are:

"We are now far into this fifth year since a policy was initiated
with the avowed object and confident promise of putting an end
to slavery agitation.  Under the operation of that policy, that
agitation has not only not ceased, but has constantly augmented.
In my opinion, it will not cease until a crisis shall have been
reached and passed.  'A house divided against itself cannot stand.'
I believe this country cannot endure permanently half slave and
half free.  I do not expect the Union to be dissolved--I do not
expect the house to fall--but I do expect it will cease to be
divided.  It will become all one thing or all the other.  Either
the opponents of slavery will arrest the further spread of it
and place it where the public mind shall rest in the belief that
it is in the course of ultimate extinction, or its advocates
will push it forward until it shall become alike lawful in all the
States, old as well as new, North as well as South."

This, at the time, was a bold utterance, and, it was believed by
many, would imperil Mr. Lincoln's chances for election.  Mr. Blaine
in his "Twenty Years of Congress," says:

"Mr. Lincoln had been warned by intimate friends to whom he had
communicated the contents of his speech in advance of its delivery,
that he was treading on dangerous ground, that he would be
misinterpreted as a disunionist, and that he might fatally damage the
Republican party by making its existence synonymous with a destruction
of the Government."

The opening speech of Senator Douglas at Chicago a few days later--
sounding the keynote of his campaign--was in the main an arraignment
of his opponent for an attempt to precipitate an internecine
conflict, and array in deadly hostility the North against the South.
He said:

"In other words, Mr. Lincoln advocates boldly and clearly a war of
sections, a war of the North against the South, of the free
States against the slave States--a war of extermination--to be
continued relentlessly until the one or the other shall be subdued,
and all the States shall either become free or become slave."

The two speeches, followed by others of like tenor, aroused public
interest in the State as it had never been before.  The desire
to hear the candidates from the same platform became general.  The
proposal for a joint debate came from Mr. Lincoln on July 24 and
was soon thereafter accepted.  Seven joint meetings were agreed
upon, the first to be at Ottawa, August 21, and the last at Alton,
October 15.  The meetings were held in the open, and at each place
immense crowds were in attendance.  The friends of Mr. Lincoln
largely preponderated in the northern portion of the State, those of
Douglas in the southern, while in the centre the partisans of
the respective candidates were apparently equal in numbers.  The
interest never flagged for a moment from the beginning to the close.
The debate was upon a high plane; each candidate enthusiastically
applauded by his friends, and respectfully heard by his opponents.
The speakers were men of dignified presence, their bearing such as
to challenge respect in any assemblage.  There was nothing of
the "grotesque" about the one, nothing of the "political juggler" about
the other.  Both were deeply impressed with the gravity of the
questions at issue, and of what might prove their far-reaching
consequence to the country.

Kindly reference by each speaker to the other characterized the
debates from the beginning.  "My friend Lincoln," and "My friend
the Judge," were expressions of constant occurrence during the
debate.  While each mercilessly attacked the political utterances of
the other, good feeling in the main prevailed.  Something being
pardoned to the spirit of debate, the amenities were well observed.
They had been personally well known to each other for many years; had
served together in the Legislature when the State Capitol was at
Vandalia, and at a later date, Lincoln had appeared before the
Supreme Court when Douglas was one of the judges.  The amusing
allusions to each other were taken in good part.  Mr. Lincoln's
profound humor is now a proverb.  It never appeared to better
advantage than during these debates.  In criticising Mr. Lincoln's
attack upon Chief Justice Taney and his associates for the Dred
Scott decision, Douglas declared it to be an attempt to secure a
reversal of the high tribunal by an appeal to a town meeting.
It reminded him of the saying of Colonel Strode that the judicial system
of Illinois was perfect, except that "there should be an appeal
allowed from the Supreme Court to two justices of the peace."
Lincoln replied, "That was when you were on the bench, Judge."
Referring to Douglas's allusion to him as a kind, amiable, and
intelligent gentleman, he said:

"Then as the Judge has complimented me with these pleasant titles,
I was a little taken, for it came from a great man.  I was not very
much accustomed to flattery and it came the sweeter to me.  I
was like the Hoosier with the gingerbread, when he said he reckoned
he loved it better and got less of it than any other man."

In opening the debate at Ottawa, Douglas said:

"In the remarks I have made on the platform and the position of
Mr. Lincoln, I mean nothing personally disrespectful or unkind
to that gentleman.  I have known him for twenty-five years.  There
were many points of sympathy between us when we first got acquainted.
We were both comparatively boys, and both struggling with poverty in
a strange land.  I was a school-teacher in the town of Winchester,
and he a flourishing grocery-keeper in the town of Salem.  He
was more successful in his occupation than I was in mine, and hence
more fortunate in this world's goods.  Lincoln is one of those
peculiar men who perform with admirable skill everything which they
undertake.  I made as good a school-teacher as I could, and when a
cabinet-maker I made a good bedstead and table, although my old boss
said I succeeded better with bureaus and secretaries than anything
else.  I met him in the Legislature and had a sympathy with him
because of the up-hill struggle we both had in life.  He was
then just as good at telling an anecdote as now.  He could beat
any of the boys wrestling or running a foot-race, in pitching quoits
or tossing a copper, and the dignity and impartiality with which
he presided at a horse-race or a fist-fight, excited the admiration
and won the praise of everybody.  I sympathized with him because
he was struggling with difficulties, and so was I."

To which Lincoln replied:

"The Judge is woefully at fault about his friend Lincoln being a
grocery-keeper.  I don't know as it would be a sin if I had been;
but he is mistaken.  Lincoln never kept a grocery anywhere in
the world.  It is true that Lincoln did work the latter part of
one Winter in a little still house up at the head of a hollow."

The serious phases of the debates will now be considered.  The
opening speech was by Mr. Douglas.  That he possessed rare power
as a debater, all who heard him can bear witness.  Mr. Blaine in
his history says:

"His mind was fertile in resources.  He was master of logic.  In
that peculiar style of debate which in its intensity resembles a
physical combat, he had no equal.  He spoke with extraordinary
readiness.  He used good English, terse, pointed, vigorous.  He
disregarded the adornments of rhetoric.  He never cited historic
precedents except from the domain of American politics.  Inside
that field, his knowledge was comprehensive, minute, critical.  He
could lead a crowd almost irresistibly to his own conclusions."

Douglas was, in very truth, imbued with little of mere sentiment.
He gave little time to discussions belonging solely to the realm
of the speculative or the abstract.  He was in no sense a dreamer.
What Coleridge has defined wisdom--"common sense, in an uncommon
degree"--was his.  In phrase the simplest and most telling, he
struck at once at the very core of the controversy.  Possibly no
man was ever less inclined "to darken counsel with words without
knowledge."  Positive, and aggressive to the last degree, he never
sought "by indirections to find directions out."  In statesmanship--
in all that pertained to human affairs--he was intensely practical.
With him, in the words of Macaulay, "one acre in Middlesex is worth
a principality in Utopia."

It is a pleasure to recall--after the lapse of half a century--the
two men as they shook hands upon the speaker's stand, just before the
opening of the debates that were to mark an epoch in American
history.  Stephen A. Douglas!  Abraham Lincoln!  As they stood side
by side and looked out upon "the sea of upturned faces"--it was
indeed a picture to live in the memory of all who witnessed it.
The one stood for the old ordering of things, in an emphatic sense
for the Government as established by the fathers--with all its
compromises.  The other, recognizing equally with his opponent the
binding force of Constitutional obligation, yet looking, away from
present surroundings, "felt the inspiration of the coming of the
grander day."  As has been well said, "The one faced the past; the
other, the future."

The name of Lincoln is now a household word.  But little can be
written of him that is not already known to the world.  Nothing
that can be uttered or withheld can add to, or detract from, his
imperishable fame.  But it must be remembered that his great
opportunity and fame came after the stirring events separated from
us by the passing of fifty years.  It is not the Lincoln of history,
but Lincoln the country lawyer, the debater, the candidate of
his party for political office, with whom we have now to do.  Born
in Kentucky, much of his early life was spent in Indiana, and
all his professional and public life up to his election to the
Presidency, in Illinois.  His early opportunities for study,
like those of Douglas, were meagre indeed.  Neither had had the
advantage of the thorough training of the schools.  Of both it
might truly have been said, "They knew men rather than books."  From
his log-cabin home upon the Sangamon, Mr. Lincoln had in his early
manhood volunteered, and was made captain of his company, in what was
so well known to the early settlers of Illinois as the Black
Hawk War.  Later on, he was surveyor of his county, and three times
a member of the State Legislature.  At the time of the debates with
Senator Douglas, Mr. Lincoln had for many years been a resident of
Springfield, and a recognized leader of the bar.  As an advocate,
he had probably no superior in the State.  During the days of
the Whig party he was an earnest exponent of its principles, and
an able champion of its candidates.  As such, he had in successive
contests eloquently presented the claims of Harrison, Clay, Taylor,
and Scott to the Presidency.  In 1846, he was elected a Representative
in Congress, and upon his retirement he resumed the active practice
of his profession.  Upon the dissolution of the Whig party, he cast
in his fortunes with the new political organization, and was in
very truth one of the builders of the Republican party.  At its
first national convention, in 1856, he received a large vote for
nomination to the Vice-Presidency, and during the memorable campaign
of that year canvassed the State in advocacy of the election of
Fremont and Dayton, the candidates of the Philadelphia convention.

In the year 1858--that of the great debates--Douglas was the better
known of the opposing candidates in the country at large.  In a
speech then recently delivered in Springfield, Mr. Lincoln said:

"There is still another disadvantage under which we labor and to
which I will ask your attention.  It arises out of the relative
positions of the two persons who stand before the State as candidates
for the Senate.  Senator Douglas is of world-wide renown.  All the
anxious politicians of his party have been looking upon him as
certainly at no distant day to be the President of the United
States.  They have seen in his ruddy, jolly, fruitful face,
postoffices, land-offices, marshalships, and cabinet appointments,
and foreign missions, bursting and sprouting out in wonderful
exuberance, ready to be laid hold of by their greedy hands.  On
the contrary, nobody has ever seen in my poor lank face that any
cabbages were sprouting out."

Both, however, were personally well known in Illinois.  Each was
by unanimous nomination the candidate of his party.  Douglas had
known sixteen years of continuous service in one or the other House
of Congress.  In the Senate, he had held high debate with
Seward, Sumner, and Chase from the North, and during the last
session--since he had assumed a position of antagonism to the
Buchanan administration--had repeatedly measured swords with Tombs,
Benjamin, and Jefferson Davis, chief among the great debaters of
the South.

Mr. Lincoln's services in Congress had been limited to a single
term in the lower house, and his great fame was yet to be achieved,
not as a legislator, but as Chief Executive during the most critical
years of our history.

Such, in brief, were the opposing candidates as they entered the
lists of debate at Ottawa, on the twenty-first day of August, 1858.
Both were in the prime of manhood, thoroughly equipped for the
conflict, and surrounded by throngs of devoted friends.  Both were
gifted with remarkable forensic powers and alike hopeful as to the
result.  Each recognizing fully the strength of his opponent,
his own powers were constantly at their tension.

  "the blood more stirs
  To rouse a lion than to start a hare."

In opening, Senator Douglas made brief reference to the political
condition of the country prior to the year 1854.  He said:

"The Whig and the Democratic were the two great parties then in
existence; both national and patriotic, advocating principles that
were universal in their application; while these parties differed in
regard to banks, tariff, and sub-treasury, they agreed on the
slavery question which now agitates the Union.  They had adopted
the compromise measures of 1850 as the basis of a full solution of
the slavery question in all its forms; that these measures had
received the endorsement of both parties in their National Conventions
of 1852, thus affirming the right of the people of each State
and Territory to decide as to their domestic institutions for
themselves; that this principle was embodied in the bill reported by
me in 1854 for the organization of the Territories of Kansas and
Nebraska; in order that there might be no misunderstanding,
these words were inserted in that bill:  'It is the true intent
and meaning of this act, not to legislate slavery into any State
or Territory, or to exclude it therefrom, but to leave the
people thereof perfectly free to form and regulate their domestic
institutions in their own way, subject only to the Federal
Constitution.'"

Turning to his opponent, he said:

"I desire to know whether Mr. Lincoln to-day stands as he did in
1854 in favor of the unconditional repeal of the Fugitive Slave
Law; whether he stands pledged to-day as he did in 1854 against
the admission of any more slave States into the Union, even if the
people want them; whether he stands pledged against the admission of
a new State into the Union with such a Constitution as the people of
that State may see fit to make.  I want to know whether he
stands to-day pledged to the abolition of slavery in the District of
Columbia; I desire to know whether he stands pledged to prohibit
slavery in all the Territories of the United States north as well as
south of the Missouri Compromise line.  I desire him to answer
whether he is opposed to acquisition of any more territory
unless slavery is prohibited therein.  I want his answer to
these questions."

Douglas then addressed himself to the already quoted words of
Mr. Lincoln's Springfield speech commencing:  "A house divided
against itself cannot stand."  He declared the Government had
existed for seventy years divided into free and slave States as
our fathers made it; that at the time the Constitution was framed there
were thirteen States, twelve of which were slave-holding, and one a
free State; that if the doctrine preached by Mr. Lincoln that
all should be free or all slave had prevailed, the twelve would
have overruled the one, and slavery would have been established by
the Constitution on every inch of the Republic, instead of being
left, as our fathers wisely left it, for each State to decide
for itself.  He then declared that:

"Uniformity in the local laws and institutions of the different
States is neither possible nor desirable; that if uniformity had
been adopted when the Government was established it must inevitably
have been the uniformity of slavery everywhere, or the uniformity of
negro citizenship and negro equality everywhere.  I hold that
humanity and Christianity both require that the negro shall have
and enjoy every right and every privilege and every immunity
consistent with the safety of the society in which he lives.
The question then arises, What rights and privileges are consistent
with the public good?  This is a question which each State and each
Territory must decide for itself.  Illinois has decided it for
herself."

He then said:

"Now, my friends, if we will only act conscientiously upon this
great principle of popular sovereignty, it guarantees to each State
and Territory the right to do as it pleases on all things local
and domestic; instead of Congress interfering, we will continue at
peace one with another.  This doctrine of Mr. Lincoln of uniformity
among the institutions of the different States is a new doctrine
never dreamed of by Washington, Madison, or the framers of the
Government.  Mr. Lincoln and his party set themselves up as wiser than
the founders of the Government, which has flourished for seventy
years under the principle of popular sovereignty, recognizing
the right of each State to do as it pleased.  Under that principle,
we have grown from a nation of three or four millions to one of
thirty millions of people.  We have crossed the mountains and filled
up the whole Northwest, turning the prairies into a garden, and
building up churches and schools, thus spreading civilization
and Christianity where before there was nothing but barbarism.
Under that principle we have become from a feeble nation the
most powerful upon the face of the earth, and if we only adhere to
that principle we can go forward increasing in territory, in power,
in strength, and in glory, until the Republic of America shall
be the North Star that shall guide the friends of freedom throughout
the civilized world.  I believe that his new doctrine preached by
Mr. Lincoln will dissolve the Union if it succeeds; trying to array
all the Northern States in one body against the Southern; to excite
a sectional war between the free States and the slave States in
order that one or the other may be driven to the wall."

Mr. Lincoln said in reply:

"I think and will try to show, that the repeal of the Missouri
Compromise is wrong--wrong in its direct effect, letting slavery
into Kansas and Nebraska; wrong in its prospective principle,
allowing it to spread to every other part of the wide world where
men can be found inclined to take it.  This declared indifference,
but as I must think covert zeal for the spread of slavery, I cannot
but hate.  I hate it because of the monstrous injustice of slavery
itself.  I hate it because it deprives our Republic of an example of
its just influence in the world--enables the enemies of free
institutions with plausibility to taunt us as hypocrites.  I have no
prejudices against the Southern people; they are just what we would
be in their situation.  If slavery did now exist amongst us we
would not instantly give it up.  This I believe of the masses North
and South.  When the Southern people tell us they are no more
responsible for the origin of slavery than we, I acknowledge the
fact.  When it is said that the institution exists, and that it is
very difficult to get rid of in any satisfactory way, I can understand
and appreciate the same.  I surely will not blame them for what
I should not know how to do myself.  If all earthly powers were
given me, I should not know what to do as to the existing
institution."

Declaring that he did not advocate freeing the negroes, and making
them our political and social equals, but suggesting that
gradual systems of emancipation might be adopted by the States, he
added, "But for their tardiness in this, I will not undertake to
judge our brethren of the South.  But all this to my judgment
furnishes no more excuse for permitting slavery to go into our free
territory than it would for reviving the African slave trade by
law."

He then added:

"I have no purpose directly or indirectly to interfere with the
institution of slavery in the States where it exists.  I believe I
have no lawful right to do so, and I have no inclination to do so.
I have no purpose to introduce political and social equality between
the white and black races.  But I hold that notwithstanding all
this there is no reason in the world why the negro is not entitled
to all the natural rights enumerated in the Declaration of
Independence, the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness.  I hold that he is as much entitled to these as the
white man.  I agree with Judge Douglas he is not my equal in
many respects--certainly not in color, perhaps not in moral and
intellectual endowment.  But in the right to eat the bread, without
the leave of anybody else, which his own hand earns, he is my equal,
and the equal of Judge Douglas, and the equal of every living man."

Referring to the quotation from his Springfield speech of the words,
"A house divided against itself cannot stand," he said:

"Does the Judge say it can stand?  If he does, then there is a
question of veracity, not between him and me, but between the Judge
and an authority of somewhat higher character.  I leave it to you to
say whether, in the history of our Government, the institution
of slavery has not only failed to be a bond of union, but on the
contrary been an apple of discord and an element of division in
the house.  If so, then I have a right to say that in regard to
this question the Union is a house divided against itself; and when
the Judge reminds me that I have often said to him that the
institution of slavery has existed for eighty years in some States
and yet it does not exist in some others, I agree to that fact,
and I account for it by looking at the position in which our fathers
originally placed it--restricting it from the new Territories where
it had not gone, and legislating to cut off its source by abrogation
of the slave trade, thus putting the seal of legislation against
its spread, the public mind did rest in the belief that it was
in the course of ultimate extinction.  Now, I believe if we
could arrest its spread and place it where Washington and Jefferson
and Madison placed it, it would be in the course of ultimate
extinction, and the public mind would--as for eighty years past
--believe that it was in the course of ultimate extinction."

Referring further to his Springfield speech, he declared that he
had no thought of doing anything to bring about a war between
the free and slave States; that he had no thought in the world that
he was doing anything to bring about social and political equality
of the black and white races.

Pursuing this line of argument, he insisted that the first step in
the conspiracy, the passage of the Kansas-Nebraska Bill, followed soon
by the Dred Scott Decision--the latter fitting perfectly into
the niche left by the former--"in such a case, we feel it impossible
not to believe that Stephen and Franklin, Roger and James, all
understood one another from the beginning, and all worked upon a
common plan or draft drawn before the first blow was struck."

In closing, Douglas, after indignant denial of the charge of
conspiracy, said:

"I have lived twenty-five years in Illinois; I have served you with
all the fidelity and ability which I possess, and Mr. Lincoln is
at liberty to attack my public action, my votes, and my conduct,
but when he dares to attack my moral integrity by a charge of
conspiracy between myself, Chief Justice Taney, and the Supreme
Court and two Presidents of the United States, I will repel it."

At Freeport, Mr. Lincoln, in opening the discussion, at once declared
his readiness to answer the interrogatories propounded.  He said:

"I do not now, nor ever did, stand in favor of the unconditional
repeal of the Fugitive Slave Law; I do not now, nor ever did, stand
pledged against the admission of any more slave States into the
Union; I do not stand pledged against the admission of a new State
into the Union with such a Constitution as the people of that State
may see fit to make; I do not stand to-day pledged to the abolition
of slavery in the District of Columbia; I do not stand pledged
to the prohibition of the slave trade between the different States;
I am impliedly, if not expressly, pledged to a belief in the right
and duty of Congress to prohibit slavery in all the United
States Territories."

Waiving the form of the interrogatory, as to being pledged, he said:

"As to the first one in regard to the Fugitive Slave Law, I have
never hesitated to say, and I do not now hesitate to say, that I
think under the Constitution of the United States the people of
the Southern States are entitled to a Congressional Fugitive Slave
Law.  Having said that, I have had nothing to say in regard to the
existing Fugitive Slave Law further than that I think it should
have been framed so as to be free from some of the objections that
pertain to it without lessening its efficiency.  In regard to
whether I am pledged to the admission of any more slave States into
the Union, I would be exceedingly glad to know that there would
never be another slave State admitted into the Union; but I must
add that if slavery shall be kept out of the Territories during
the Territorial existence of any one given Territory, and then the
people shall, having a fair chance and a clear field when they come
to adopt the Constitution, do such an extraordinary thing as to
adopt a slavery Constitution uninfluenced by the actual presence
of the institution among them, I see no alternative, if we own the
country, but to admit them into the Union.  I should be exceedingly
glad to see slavery abolished in the District of Columbia.  I
believe that Congress possesses Constitutional power to abolish
it.  Yet, as a member of Congress, I should not be in favor of
endeavoring to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia unless it
would be upon these conditions:  First, that the abolition should be
gradual; second, that it should be on a vote of the majority of
qualified voters in the district; third, that compensation should be
made unwilling owners.  With these conditions, I confess I should be
exceedingly glad to see Congress abolish slavery in the District of
Columbia, and in the language of Henry Clay, 'Sweep from our Capital
that foul blot upon our nation.'"

These carefully prepared answers will never cease to be of profound
interest to the student of human affairs.  They indicate unmistakably
the conservative tendency of Mr. Lincoln, and his position at
the time as to the legal status of the institution of slavery.
But "courage mounteth with occasion."  Five years later, and from the
hand that penned the answers given came the great proclamation
emancipating a race.  The hour had struck--and slavery perished.
The compromises upon which it rested were, in the mighty upheaval,
but as the stubble before the flame.

Recurring to the Freeport debates, Mr. Lincoln propounded to his
opponent four interrogatories as follows:

"First, if the people of Kansas shall by means entirely unobjectionable
in all other respects adopt a State Constitution and ask admission
into the Union under it before they have the requisite number of
inhabitants according to the bill--some ninety-three thousand--
will you vote to admit them?  Second, can the people of a United
States Territory in any lawful way, against the wish of any citizen
of the United States, exclude slavery from its limits prior to the
formation of a State Constitution?  Third, if the Supreme Court of
the United States shall decide that States cannot exclude slavery from
their limits, are you in favor of acquiescing in, adopting, and
following such decision as a rule of political action?  Fourth,
are you in favor of acquiring additional territory in disregard of
how such acquisition may affect the nation on the slavery question?"

The questions propounded reached the marrow of the controversy,
and were yet to have a much wider field for discussion.  This
was especially true of the second of the series.  Upon this widely
divergent--irreconcilable--views were entertained by Northern
and Southern Democrats.  The evidence of this is to be found in
the respective national platforms upon which Douglas and Mr.
Breckenridge were two years later rival candidates of a divided
party.  The second interrogatory of Mr. Lincoln clearly emphasized
this conflict of opinion as it existed at the time of the debates.
It is but just, however, to Douglas--of whom little that is kindly
has in late years been spoken--to say that there was nothing in
the question to cause him surprise or embarrassment.  It would
be passing strange if during the protracted debates with
Senators representing extreme and antagonistic views, a matter
so vital as the interpretation of the Kansas-Nebraska Act--as
indicated by the interrogatory--had never been under discussion.
Conclusive evidence on this point is to be found in the speech
delivered by Senator Douglas at Bloomington, July 16, forty-two
days before the Freeport debate, in which he said:

"I tell you, my friends, it is impossible under our institutions
to force slavery on an unwilling people.  If this principle of
popular sovereignty, asserted in the Nebraska Bill, be fairly
carried out by letting the people decide the question for themselves
by a fair vote, at a fair election, and with honest returns, slavery
will never exist one day or one hour in any Territory against
the unfriendly legislation of an unfriendly people.  Hence if
the people of a Territory want slavery they will encourage it by
passing affirmatory laws, and the necessary police regulations; if
they do not want it, they will withhold that legislation, and by
withholding it slavery is as dead as if it were prohibited by a
Constitutional prohibition.  They could pass such local laws and
police regulations as would drive slavery out in one day or one
hour if they were opposed to it, and therefore, so far as the
question of slavery in the Territories is concerned in its practical
operation, it matters not how the Dred Scott case may be decided
with reference to the Territories.  My own opinion on that point
is well known.  It is shown by my vote and speeches in Congress."

Recurring again to the Freeport debate, in reply to the first
interrogatory, Douglas declared that in reference to Kansas it was
his opinion that if it had population enough to constitute a slave
State, it had people enough for a free State; that he would not
make Kansas an exceptional case to the other States of the Union; that
he held it to be a sound rule of universal application to require a
Territory to contain the requisite population for a member of
Congress before its admission as a State into the Union; that it
having been decided that Kansas has people enough for a slave State,
"I hold it has enough for a free State."

As to the third interrogatory, he said that only one man in the
United States, an editor of a paper in Washington, had held such
view, and that he, Douglas, had at the time denounced it on the
floor of the Senate; that Mr. Lincoln cast an imputation upon
the Supreme Court by supposing that it would violate the Constitution;
that it would be an act of moral treason that no man on the
bench could ever descend to.  To the fourth--which he said was very
"ingeniously and cunningly put"--he answered that, whenever it
became necessary in our growth and progress to acquire more territory
he was in favor of it without reference to the question of slavery,
and when we had acquired it, he would leave the people to do as they
pleased, either to make it free, or slave territory as they
preferred.

The answer to the second interrogatory--of which much has been
written--was given without hesitation.  Language could hardly be
more clear or effective.  He said:

"To the next question propounded to me I answer emphatically, as
Mr. Lincoln has heard me answer a hundred times, that in my opinion
the people of a Territory can by lawful means exclude slavery from
their limits prior to the formation of a State Constitution.  It
matters not what way the Supreme Court may hereafter decide as
to the abstract question whether slavery may or may not go into
a Territory under the Constitution, the people have the lawful
means to introduce it or exclude it, as they please, for the reason
that slavery cannot exist a day, or an hour anywhere, unless it is
supported by local police regulations.  These police regulations
can only be established by the local Legislature, and if the people
are opposed to slavery they will elect representatives to that body
who will by unfriendly legislation effectually prevent the introduction
of it into their midst.  If, on the contrary, they are for it, their
Legislature will favor its extension.  Hence, no matter what the
decision of the Supreme Court may be on that abstract question,
still the right of the people to make a slave Territory or a free
Territory is perfect and complete under the Nebraska Bill."

The trend of thought, the unmeasured achievement of activities
looking to human amelioration, during the fifty intervening years,
must be taken into the account before uncharitable judgment
upon what has been declared the indifference of Douglas to the
question of abstract right involved in the memorable discussion.
It must be remembered that the world has moved apace, and that a
mighty gulf separates us from that eventful period, in which
practical statesmen were compelled to deal with institutions as
then existing.  And not to be forgotten are the words of the great
interpreter of the human heart,

  "But know thou this, that men are as the time is."

The great debates between Douglas and Lincoln--the like of which
we shall not hear again--had ended and passed to the domain of
history.  To the inquiry, "Which of the participants was the victor?"
there can be no absolute answer.  Judged by the immediate result, the
former; by consequence more remote and far-reaching, the latter.
Within three years from the first meeting at Ottawa, Mr. Lincoln
--having been elected and inaugurated President--was upon the
threshold of mighty events which are now the masterful theme of
history; and his great antagonist in the now historic debates
had passed from earthly scenes.

It has been said that Douglas was ambitious.

  "If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
  And grievously hath he answered it."

We may well believe that, with like honorable ambition to the
two great popular leaders of different periods--Clay and Blaine
--his goal was the Presidency.

In the last three national conventions of his party preceding
his death, he was presented by the Illinois delegation to be named
for the great office.  The last of these--the Charleston convention
of 1860--is now historic.  It assembled amid intense party passion,
and after a turbulent session that seemed the omen of its approaching
doom, adjourned to a later day to Baltimore.  Senator Douglas there
received the almost solid vote of the Northern, and a portion of
that of the Border States, but the hostility of the extreme Southern
leaders to his candidacy was implacable to the end.  What had seemed
inevitable from the beginning at length occurred, and the great
historical party--which had administered the Government with brief
intermissions from the inauguration of Jefferson--was hopelessly
rent asunder.  This startling event--and what it might portend--
gave pause to thoughtful men of all parties.  It was not a mere
incident, but an epoch in history.  Mr. Blaine, in his "Twenty
Years of Congress," says:

"The situation was the cause of solicitude and even grief with
thousands to whom the old party was peculiarly endeared.  The
traditions of Jefferson, of Madison, of Jackson, were devoutly
treasured; and the splendid achievements of the American Democracy
were recounted with the pride which attaches to an honorable family
inheritance.  The fact was recalled that the Republic had grown to
its imperial dimensions under Democratic statesmanship.  It was
remembered that Louisiana had been acquired from France, Florida
from Spain, the independent Republic of Texas annexed, and California,
with its vast dependencies, and its myriad millions of treasure,
ceded by Mexico, all under Democratic administrations, and in spite
of the resistance of their opponents.  That a party whose history was
inwoven with the glory of the Republic should now come to its end in
a quarrel over the status of the negro in a country where his labor
was not wanted, was to many of its members as incomprehensible
as it was sorrowful and exasperating.  They might have restored
the party to harmony, but at the very height of the factional
contest, the representatives of both sections were hurried forward
to the National Convention of 1860, with principle subordinated to
passion, with judgment displaced by a desire for revenge."

The withdrawal from the Baltimore Convention of a large majority
of the Southern delegates and a small following, led by Caleb
Cushing and Benjamin F. Butler from the North, resulted in the
immediate nomination by the requisite two-thirds vote of Senator
Douglas as the Presidential candidate.  The platform upon the
question of slavery was in substance that contended for by the
candidate in the debates with Lincoln.  The Democratic party divided
--Breckenridge receiving the support of the South--Douglas's
candidacy was hopeless from the beginning.  But his iron will, and
courage, that knew no faltering, never appeared to better advantage
than during that eventful canvass.  Deserted by former political
associates, he visited distant States and addressed immense audiences
in defence of the platform upon which he had been nominated, and
in advocacy of his own election.  His speeches in Southern States were
of the stormy incidents of a struggle that has scarcely known a
parallel.  Interrogated by a prominent citizen at Norfolk, Virginia,
"If Lincoln be elected President, would the Southern States be
justified in seceding from the Union?" Douglas replied, "I emphatically
answer, No.  The election of a man to the Presidency in conformity
with the Constitution of the United States would not justify an
attempt to dissolve the Union."

Defeated in his great ambition, broken in health, the sad witness of
the unmistakable portents of the coming sectional strife--the
few remaining months of his mortal life were enveloped in gloom.
Partisan feeling vanished--his deep concern was now only for his
country.  Standing by the side of his successful rival--whose
wondrous career was only opening, as his own was nearing its close
--he bowed profound assent to the imperishable utterances of the
inaugural address:  "I am loath to close.  We are not enemies but
friends.  We must not be enemies.  Though passion may have strained,
it must not break our bonds of affection."

Yet later--immediately upon the firing of the fatal shot at Sumter
that suddenly summoned millions from peaceful pursuits to arms--
by invitation of the Illinois Legislature Douglas addressed his
countrymen for the last time.

Broken with the storms of state, the fires of ambition forever
extinguished, standing upon the threshold of the grave, his soul
burdened with the calamities that had befallen his country, in
tones of deepest pathos he declared:

"If war must come--if the bayonet must be used to maintain the
Constitution--I can say before God, my conscience is clear.  I have
struggled long for a peaceful solution of the trouble.  I deprecate
war, but if it must come, I am with my country, and for my country,
in every contingency, and under all circumstances.  At all hazards
our Government must be maintained, and the shortest pathway to
peace is through the most stupendous preparation for war."

Who that heard the last public utterance that fell from his lips
can forget his solemn invocation to all who had followed his
political fortunes, until the banner had fallen from his hand,--
to know only their country in its hour of peril?

The ordinary limit of human life unreached; his intellectual strength
unabated; his loftiest aspirations unrealized; at the critical
moment of his country's sorest need--he passed to the grave.  What
reflections and regrets may have been his in that hour of awful
mystery, we may not know.  In the words of another:  "What blight and
anguish met his agonized eyes, whose lips may tell? what brilliant
broken plans, what bitter rending of sweet household ties, what sundering
of strong manhood's friendships?"

In the light of what has been discussed, may we not believe that
with his days prolonged, he would during the perilous years have
been the safe counsellor--the rock--of the great President, in
preserving the nation's life, and later in "binding up the nation's
wounds."

Worthy of honored and enduring place in history, Stephen A. Douglas
--statesman and patriot--lies buried within the great city whose
stupendous development is so largely the result of his own wise
forecast and endeavor,--by the majestic lake whose waves break near
the base of his stately monument and chant his eternal requiem.



VIII
THE FIRST POLITICAL TELEGRAM

SENATOR SILAS WRIGHT NOMINATED FOR VICE-PRESIDENT--WORD OF HIS
NOMINATION SENT HIM BY THE MORSE TELEGRAPH--MORSE'S FIRST CONCEPTION
OF AN ELECTRO-MAGNETIC TELEGRAPH--OBSTACLES TO THE CARRYING OUT OF
HIS INVENTION--A BILL APPROPRIATING $30,000 TO TEST THE VALUE OF
HIS TELEGRAPH--EARLIER FORMS OF TELEGRAPHIC INTERCOURSE--A EULOGY ON
THE INVENTOR BY MR. GARFIELD--ANOTHER, BY MR. COX--THE FIRST MESSAGE
THAT EVER PASSED OVER THE WIRE--DR. PRIME'S PRAISE OF MORSE AFTER HIS
DEATH.

By all odds, the most venerable in appearance of the Representatives
in the forty-sixth Congress, was Hendrick B. Wright of Pennsylvania.
After a retirement of a third of a century, he had been returned
to the seat he had honored while many of his present associates
were in the cradle.  Of massive build, stately bearing, lofty
courtesy; neatly appareled in blue broadcloth, with brass buttons
appropriately in evidence, he appeared indeed to belong to a
past generation of statesmen.

  "And thus he bore without abuse
  The grand old name of gentleman."

In one of the many conversations I held with him, he told me that he
was the president of the Democratic National Convention which met in
Baltimore in 1844.  As will be remembered, a majority of the
delegates to that convention were favorable to the renomination of
Mr. Van Buren, but his recently published letter opposing the
annexation of Texas had rendered him extremely obnoxious to a
powerful minority of his own party.  After a protracted struggle, Mr.
Van Buren, under the operation of the "two-thirds rule," was
defeated, and Mr. Polk nominated.  The convention, anxious to
placate the friends of the defeated candidate, then tendered the
nomination for Vice-President to Senator Silas Wright, the close
friend of Mr. Van Buren.

At the time the convention was in session, Samuel F. B. Morse
was conducting in a room in the Capitol the electrical experiments
which have since "given his name to the ages."  Under an appropriation
by Congress, a telegraph line had been recently constructed from
Washington to Baltimore.

Immediately upon the nomination of Senator Wright, as mentioned,
the president of the convention sent him by the Morse telegraph
a brief message, the first of a political character that ever passed
over the wire, advising him of his nomination, and requesting
his acceptance.  Two hours later he read to the convention a message
from Senator Wright, then in Washington, peremptorily declining
the nomination.

Upon the reading of this message to the convention, it was
openly declared to be a hoax, not one member in twenty believing
that a message could possibly have been received.  The convention
adjourned till the next day, first instructing its president to
communicate with Senator Wright by letter.  A special messenger, by
hard riding and frequent change of horse, bore the letter of the
convention to Wright in Washington, and returned with his reply by
the time the convention had reassembled.  As will be remembered, Wright
persisting in his declination, George M. Dallas was nominated and duly
elected.

Later, in conversation with the Hon. Alexander H. Stephens of
Georgia, he told me that he was in the room of the Capitol set
apart for the experiments which Mr. Morse wished to make, and
distinctly remembered the fact of the transmission of the message to
and from Senator Wright, as stated.

The incident mentioned recalls something of the obstacles encountered
by Morse in the marvellous work with which his name is inseparably
associated.  He first conceived the idea of an electro-magnetic
telegraph on shipboard on a homeward-bound voyage from Europe in
1832.  Before landing from his long voyage, his plans for a series
of experiments had been clearly thought out.  Having constructed
his first recording apparatus, his caveat for a patent was filed
five years later; and in 1838, he applied to Congress for an
appropriation to enable him to construct an experimental line from
Washington to Baltimore in order to demonstrate the practicability
of his invention.  His proposal was at first treated with ridicule
--even with contempt; and for more than three years no favorable
action was taken by Congress.  With abiding faith, however, in the
merits of his invention, his zeal knew no abatement during years of
poverty and discouragement.  At length in the Twenty-seventh
Congress, Representative Kennedy of Maryland--at a later day
Secretary of the Navy--introduced a bill appropriating thirty
thousand dollars "to test the value of Morse's Electro-Magnetic
Telegraph," to be expended under the direction of the Secretary of
the Treasury.

By the untiring efforts of Mr. Kennedy and other Representatives, the
bill was finally brought before the House for consideration near
the close of the session.  In the light of events, the discussion that
immediately preceded the vote is of interest, and in no small degree
amusing, to this generation.   On February twenty-first, 1843, Mr.
Johnson of Tennessee wished to say a word upon the bill.  As the
present Congress had done much to encourage science, he did not
wish to see the science of Mesmerism neglected and overlooked.  He
therefore proposed that one-half of the appropriation be given
to Mr. Fisk to enable him to carry on experiments as well as
Professor Morse.  Mr. Houston thought that Millerism should also
be included in the benefits of the appropriation.  Mr. Stanley said
he should have no objection to the appropriation for Mesmeric
experiments provided the gentleman from Tennessee was the subject.
Mr. Johnson said he should have no objection provided Mr. Stanley was
the operator.  Several gentlemen now called for the reading of the
amendment, and it was read by the clerk as follows:  "Provided that
one-half of the said sum shall be appropriated for trying Mesmeric
experiments under the direction of the Secretary of the Treasury."

Mr. Mason arose to a question of order.  He maintained that the
amendment was not _bona fide,_ and that such amendments were
calculated to injure the character of the House.  He appealed to
the Chair, the House being then in committee of the whole, to rule
the amendment out of order.

The Chairman said that it was not for him to judge of the motives of
members who offered amendments, and that he could not therefore
undertake to pronounce the amendment not _bona fide._  Objection
might be raised to it on the ground that it was not sufficiently
analogous in character to the bill under consideration; but, in
the opinion of the Chair, it would require a scientific analysis
to determine how far the magnetism of mesmerism was analogous to
that employed in telegraphs.  He therefore ruled the amendment
in order.

The amendment was rejected.  The bill was subsequently reported
favorably to the House, and two days later passed by the close vote
of eighty-nine to eighty-three.

The bill then went to the Senate, and was placed upon the calendar.
A large number of bills were ahead of it, and Mr. Morse was assured
by a kindly Senator that there was no possible chance for its
consideration.  All hope seemed to forsake the great inventor, as,
from his seat in the gallery, he was a gloomy witness of the waning
hours of the session.  Unable longer to endure the strain, he sought
his humble dwelling an hour before final adjournment.  On
arising the next morning, a little girl, the daughter of a faithful
friend, ran up to him with a message from her father, to the effect
that in the hurry and confusion of the midnight hour, and just
before the close of the session, the Senate had passed his bill,
which immediately received the signature of the President.

With the sum thus appropriated at his command, Morse now earnestly
resumed the experiments, which a few months later resulted so
successfully.  Referring to the homeward voyage from Europe, in
1832, his biographer says:

"One day Dr. Charles S. Jackson of Boston, a fellow passenger,
described an experiment recently made in Paris by means of which
electricity had been instantaneously transmitted through a great
length of wire; to which Morse replied, 'If that be so, I see no
reason why messages may not instantaneously be transmitted by
electricity.'"

The key-note was struck, and before his ship reached New York
the invention of the telegraph was virtually made, and even the
essential features of the electro-magnetic transmitting and recording
apparatus were sketched on paper.  Of necessity, in reaching
this result, Morse made use of the ideas and discoveries of many
other minds.  As stated by his biographer:

"Various forms of telegraphic intercourse had been devised before;
electro-magnetism had been studied by _savants_ for many years;
Franklin even had experimented with the transmission of electricity
through great lengths of wire.  It was reserved for Morse to combine
the results of many fragmentary and unsuccessful attempts, and put
them, after many years of trial, to a practical use; and though
his claims to the invention have been many times attacked in the
press and in the courts, they have been triumphantly vindicated
alike by the law and the verdict of the people, both at home and
abroad.  The Chief Justice of the United States in delivering
the opinion of the Supreme Court in one of the Morse cases, said:
'It can make no difference whether the inventor derived his
information from books or from conversation with men skilled in
the science; and the fact that Morse sought and obtained the
necessary information and counsel from the best sources and
acted upon it, neither impairs his right as an inventor, nor detracts
from his merits.'"

It will be remembered that soon after his first successful experiment,
Morse was harassed by protracted litigation, and that many attempts
were made to deprive him of the just rewards of his great invention.
True, he had been preceded along the same lines by great discoveries.
This fact no man recognized more unreservedly than himself.  He
was the inventor, his work, that of gathering up and applying the
marvellous discoveries of others to the practical purposes of human
life.  As stated by Mr. Garfield:

"His to interpret to the world that subtle and mysterious element with
which the thinkers of the human race had so long been occupied.
As Franklin had exhibited the relation between lightning and the
electric fluid, so Oersted exhibited the relation between magnetism
and electricity.  From 1820 to 1825, his discovery was further
developed by Davy and Sturgeon of England, and Arago and Ampere of
France.  The electro-magnetic telegraph is the embodiment, I might
say the incarnation, of many centuries of thought, of many generations
of effort to elicit from Nature one of her deepest mysteries.
No one man, no one century, could have achieved it.  It is the
child of the human race, the heir of all ages.  How wonderful
are the steps that led to its creation!  The very name of this
telegraphic instrument bears record of its history--Electric,
Magnetic.

"The first, named from the bit of yellow amber whose qualities
of attraction and repulsion were discovered by a Grecian philosopher
twenty-four centuries ago, and the second, from Magnesia, the
village of Asia Minor where first was found the lodestone, whose
touch turned the needle forever toward the north.  These were
the earliest forms in which that subtle, all-pervading force revealed
itself to men.  In the childhood of the race men stood dumb in the
presence of its more terrible manifestations.  When it gleamed
in the purple aurora, or shot dusky-red from the clouds, it was
the eye-flash of an angry God before whom mortals quailed in helpless
fear."

More than three centuries ago, Shakespeare put into the mouth of
one of his creations the words,

  "I'll put a girdle round about the earth
  In forty minutes."

The words spoken in jest were in the nature of a prophecy.  After the
passing of many generations, in a country unknown to the great
bard, Morse, in the words of Mr. Cox, one of the most eloquent
of his eulogists--

"Gave to the universal people the means of speedy and accurate
intelligence, and so stormed at once the castles of the terrible
Giant Doubt and Giant Despair.  He has saved time, shortened the
hours of toil, accumulated and intensified thought by the rapidity
and terseness of electric messages.  He has celebrated treaties.
Go to the uttermost parts of the earth; go beneath the deep sea;
to the land where snows are eternal, or to the tropical realms
where the orange blooms in the air of mid-winter, and you will find
this clicking, persistent, sleepless instrument ready to give
its tireless wing to your purpose."

It was my good fortune to serve in the House of Representatives
with Mr. Stephens of Georgia, and Mr. Wood of New York, both of
whom more than a third of a century before had given their votes
in favor of the appropriation that made it possible for Morse to
prosecute experiments fraught with such stupendous blessing to our
race.  The member who reported back the bill from the Committee on
Commerce, with favorable recommendations, and then supported it by
an eloquent speech upon the floor of the House, was Robert C.
Winthrop of Massachusetts.  No public man I have ever known impressed
me more favorably than did Mr. Winthrop.  He had been the close
friend of Everett, Choate, Webster, and Clay.  He was the last
survivor of as brilliant a coterie of party leaders and statesmen as
our country has ever known.  On a visit he made to the House of
Representatives, of which he had many years before been the Speaker,
business was at once suspended, and the members from all parts
of the Great Hall gathered about him.  In a letter to the Morse
Memorial meeting in Boston, Mr. Winthrop stated that he was present
in the Capitol while the first formal messages were passing along the
magic cords between Washington and Baltimore.  He referred to the
declination read by Senator Wright in his presence, of the nomination
to the Vice-Presidency tendered him, and added:

"All this gave us the most vivid impression, not only that a new
kind of _wire-pulling_ had entered into politics, but that a
mysterious and marvellous power of the air had at length been
subdued and trained to the service of mankind."

It is an interesting fact in this connection, to note that the
little girl, Miss Ellsworth, who brought to Mr. Morse the joyful
tidings of the passage of the bill on that early May morning in
1843, was rewarded by being requested by the great inventor to
write the first message that ever passed over the wire.  When
she selected,

  "What hath God wrought,"

words to find utterance by all tongues--she builded better than
she knew, for in the words of Speaker Blaine:

"The little thread of wire placed as a timid experiment between
the national capital and a neighboring city grew, and lengthened, and
multiplied with almost the rapidity of the electric current that
darted along its iron nerves, until, within his own lifetime,
continent was bound to continent, hemisphere answered through
ocean's depths to hemisphere, and an encircled globe dashed forth his
eulogy in the unmatched eloquence of a grand achievement."

Words of praise, spoke by Dr. Prime, of the great inventor just
after he had passed from the world, to which he left such a heritage,
can never lose their interest:

"Morse in his coffin is a recollection never to fade.  He lay like
an ancient prophet or sage such as the old masters painted for
Abraham, or Isaiah.  His finely chiselled features, classical in
their mould and majestic in repose, and heavy flowing beard; the
death calm upon the brow that for eighty years had concealed a
teeming brain, and that placid beauty that lingers upon the face
of the righteous dead, as if the freed spirit had left a smile upon
its forsaken home--these are the memories that remain of the
most illustrious and honored private citizen that the New World
has yet given to mankind."



IX
ALONG THE BYPATHS OF HISTORY

THE WIDOW OF GEN. GAINES CLAIMS PROPERTY AT NEW ORLEANS WORTH
$30,000,000--HER SUCCESS AFTER MUCH LITIGATION--THE WIDOW OF JOHN H.
EATON, SECRETARY OF WAR--A CLOUD ON HER REPUTATION--HER HUSBAND
A FRIEND OF GEN. JACKSON--A DUEL BETWEEN RANDOLPH AND CLAY--HOSTILITY
OF THE LEADERS OF WASHINGTON SOCIETY TO MRS. EATON--SECRETARY EATON
DISLIKED BY HIS COLLEAGUES--CONSEQUENT DISRUPTION OF JACKSON'S
CABINET--MRS. EATON'S POVERTY IN HER OLD AGE.

Nearly a third of a century ago, as the guest in a Washington house,
I had the opportunity of meeting Mrs. Gaines, the widow of General
Edmund P. Gaines, a distinguished officer of the War of 1812,
and Mrs. Eaton, the widow of the Hon. John H. Eaton of Tennessee, for
a number of years a Senator from that State, and later Secretary of
War during the administration of President Jackson.  Their names
suggested interesting events in our history, I gladly availed myself
of the invitation to meet them.

I found Mrs. Gaines an old lady of small stature, with a profusion
of curls, and gifted with rare powers of conversation.  She
spoke freely of her great lawsuits, one of which was then pending in
the Supreme Court of the United States.  As I listened, I thought of
the wonderful career of the little woman before me.  Few names,
a half-century ago, were more familiar to the reading public
than that of Myra Clark Gaines.  She was born in New Orleans in
the early days of the century; was the daughter of Daniel Clark,
who died in 1813, the owner of a large portion of the land upon
which the city of New Orleans was afterwards built.  She was his
only heir, and soon after attaining her majority, instituted a suit,
or series of suits, for the recovery of her property.  After years
of litigation, the seriously controverted fact of her being the
lawful heir of Daniel Clark was established, and the contest, which
was to wear out two generations of lawyers, began in dead earnest.
The value of the property involved in the litigation then exceeded
thirty millions of dollars.  At the time I saw her, she had just
arrived from her home in New Orleans to be present at the argument
of one of her suits in the Supreme Court.  She had already received
nearly six millions of dollars by successful litigation, and she
assured me that she intended to live one hundred years longer, if
necessary, to obtain her rights, and that she expected to recover every
dollar to which she was rightfully entitled.  The air of confidence
with which she spoke, and the pluck manifested in her every word
and motion, convinced me at once that the only possible question
as to her ultimate success was that of time.  And so indeed it
proved, for,

  "When like a clock worn out with eating time,
  The wheels of weary life at last stood still,"

numerous suits, in which she had been successful in the lower
courts, were still pending in the higher.

She told me with apparent satisfaction, during the interview, that
she could name over fifty lawyers who had been against her since
the beginning of her contest, all of whom were now in their graves.
Her litigation was the one absorbing thought of her life, her
one topic of conversation.

General Gaines had died many years before, and her legal battles,--
extending through several decades and against a host of adversaries,
--she had, with courage unfaltering and patience that knew no shadow
of weariness, prosecuted single-handed and alone.

In view of the enormous sums involved, the length of time consumed
in the litigation, the number and ability of counsel engaged,
and the antagonisms engendered, the records of our American courts
will be searched in vain for a parallel to the once famous suit of
Myra Clark Gaines against the city of New Orleans.

At the close of this interview, I was soon in conversation with
the older of the two ladies.  Mrs. Eaton was then near the close
of an eventful life, one indeed without an approximate parallel in
our history.  Four score years ago, there were few persons in
the village of Washington to whom "Peggy O'Neal" was a stranger.
Her father was the proprietor of a well-known, old-style tavern on
Pennsylvania Avenue, which, during the sessions of Congress,
included among its guests many of the leading statesmen of that day.
Of this number were Benton, Randolph, Eaton, Grundy, and others
equally well known.  The daughter, a girl of rare beauty, on account
of her vivacity and grace soon became a great favorite with all.
She was without question one of the belles of Washington.

It was difficult for me to realize that the care-worn face before me
was that of the charming Peggy O'Neal of early Washington days.
Distress, poverty, slander possibly, had measurably wrought the
sad change, but after all,

  "the surest poison is Time."

Traces of her former self still lingered, however, and her erect
form and dignified mien would have challenged respect in any
assembly.

While yet in her teens, she had married a purser in the Navy,
who soon after died by his own hand, while on a cruise in the
Mediterranean.  A year or two after his death, with reputation
somewhat clouded, she married the Honorable John H. Eaton, then
a Senator from Tennessee.  He was many years her senior, was one
of the leading statesmen of the day, and had rendered brilliant
service in the campaign which terminated so triumphantly at New
Orleans.  He was the devoted personal and political friend of
General Jackson, his earliest biographer, and later his earnest
advocate for the Presidency.  Indeed, the movement having in view
the election of "Old Hickory" was inaugurated by Major Eaton assisted
by Amos Kendall and Francis P. Blair.

This was in 1824, before the days of national conventions.
Eaton visited several of the States in the interest of his old
commander, and secured the hearty co-operation of many of the most
influential men.  It was in large degree through his personal
efforts that the Legislatures of Pennsylvania and Tennessee proposed
the name of Andrew Jackson for the great office.

The Presidential contest of that year marked an epoch in our
political history.  It was at the close of the Monroe administration,
"the era of good feeling."  The struggle for supremacy which
immediately followed was the precursor of an era of political strife
which left its deep and lasting impress upon the country.  Of
the four candidates in the field, two were members of the outgoing
Cabinet of President Monroe:  John Quincy Adams, Secretary of State,
and William H. Crawford, Secretary of the Treasury.  The remaining
candidates were Henry Clay, the eloquent and accomplished Speaker of
the House of Representatives, and Andrew Jackson, "the hero of New
Orleans."  The candidates were all of the same party, that founded
by Jefferson; the sun of the once powerful Federalists had set,
and the Whig party was yet in the future.

No one of the candidates receiving a majority of the electoral
vote, the election devolved upon the House of Representatives.
Mr. Clay being the lowest upon the list, the choice by constitutional
requirement was to be made from his three competitors.  The influence
of the Kentucky statesman was thrown to Mr. Adams, who was duly
elected, receiving the votes of a bare majority of the States.  The
determining vote was given by the sole representative from Illinois,
the able and brilliant Daniel P. Cook, a friend of Mr. Clay.
The sad sequel was the defeat of Cook at the next Congressional
election, his immediate retirement from public life, and early and
lamented death.

Not less sad was the effect of the vote just given upon the political
fortunes of Henry Clay.  His high character and distinguished public
services were scant protection against the clamor that immediately
followed his acceptance of the office of Secretary of State tendered
him by President Adams.  "Bargain and Corruption" was the terrible
slogan of his enemies in his later struggles for the Presidency
and its echo scarcely died out with that generation.

In this connection, the bitter words spoken in the Senate by
John Randolph will be recalled:  "the coalition between the Puritan
and the blackleg."  The duel which followed, now historic, stands alone
in the fierce conflicts of men.  Whatever the faults of Randolph, let
it be remembered to his eternal honor, that after receiving at
short range the fire of Mr. Clay, he promptly discharged his own
pistol in the air.  Even after the lapse of eighty years how pleasing
these words:  "At which Mr. Clay, throwing down his own pistol,
advanced with extended hand to Mr. Randolph, who taking his hand
quietly remarked, 'You owe me a coat, Mr. Clay,' to which the latter
exclaimed, 'Thank God the obligation is no greater!'"

Immediately upon the defeat of Jackson, his friends began the
agitation which resulted in his overwhelming triumph over Adams,
in 1828.  Chief among his supporters in this, as in his former
contest, was Major Eaton.  The untiring devotion of Jackson to his
friends is well known.  It rarely found more striking illustration
than in the selection of Eaton as Secretary of War, and in the zeal
with which he sustained him through good and evil report alike,
during later years.

When it became known that Senator Eaton was to hold a seat in
the Cabinet of the new administration, the fashionable circles
of the capital were deeply agitated, and protests earnest and
vehement assailed the ears of the devoted President.  The objections
urged were not against Major Eaton, but against his beautiful
and accomplished wife.  Rumors of an exceedingly uncomplimentary
character, that had measurably died out with time, were suddenly
revived against Mrs. Eaton, and gathered force and volume with each
passing day.  It is hardly necessary to say that this hostility was,
in the main, from her own sex.  To all remonstrances and
appeals, however, President Jackson turned a deaf ear.  The kindness
shown by the mother of Mrs. Eaton to the wife of the President
during a former residence, and while he was a Senator, in Washington,
had never been forgotten.  It will be remembered that during the
late Presidential contest not only had Jackson himself been the
object of merciless attack, but even his invalid wife did not
escape.  Divorced from her first husband because of his cruel
treatment, she had married Jackson, when he was a young lawyer
in Nashville, many years before.  As the result of the aspersions cast
upon her, the once famous duel was evolved in which Charles Dickinson
fell by the hand of Jackson in 1806.

After his election, but before his inauguration, Mrs. Jackson died,
the victim of calumny as her husband always believed.  A few
days after he had turned away from that new-made grave, he was
in the turmoil of politics at the national capital.  With the past
fresh in his memory, it is not strange that he espoused the cause of
his faithful friend, and the daughter of the woman who had befriended
one dearer to him than his own life.  Thoroughly convinced of the
innocence of Mrs. Eaton, he made her cause his own, and to the end
he knew no variableness or shadow of turning.

The new administration was not far upon its tempestuous voyage
before the trouble began.  The relentless hostility of the leaders
of Washington society against Mrs. Eaton was manifested in every
possible way.  Their doors were firmly closed against her.  This, of
itself, would have been of comparatively little moment, but serious
consequences were to grow out of it.  From private parlors and
drawing-rooms the controversy soon reached the little coterie that
constituted the official family of President Jackson.  While this is
almost forgotten history now, one chapter of Jackson's biography
published soon after the events mentioned, was headed, "Mr. Van
Buren calls upon Mrs. Eaton."  As is well known, the creed in action
of the most suave of our presidents was,

  "The statues of our stately fortunes
  Are sculptured with the chisel, not the axe."

Mr. Van Buren was Secretary of State, and one of the most agreeable
and politic of statesmen.  He was in line of succession to the
great office, and understood well the importance of maintaining
his hold upon President Jackson.  A widower himself, the call upon
which so much stress was laid at the time subjected the Secretary of
State to no embarrassment at home.  Not so, however, with three of
his colleagues in the Cabinet:  Mr. Ingham, Secretary of the
Treasury, Mr. Branch of the Navy, and Mr. Berrien the Attorney-General.
The wife of each of these gentlemen refused to return Mrs. Eaton's
call, or to recognize her in any possible manner.  No remonstrance
on the part of the President could avail to secure even a formal
exchange of courtesies on the part of these ladies.  All this only
intensified the determination on the part of the President to secure
to the wife of the Secretary of War the social recognition to which
he considered her justly entitled, but it would not avail; the
purpose of the most resolute man on earth was powerless against
a determination equal to his own.  Never was more forcibly exemplified
the truth of the old couplet:

  "When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't,
  And when she won't, she won't, and there's an end on't."

As to how Mrs. Eaton meanwhile appeared to others, something may
be gleaned from the statement of a distinguished gentleman who
called at the home of the Secretary of War:

"I went to the house in the evening, and found assembled there a
large company of gentlemen who paid assiduous court to the lady.
Mrs. Eaton was not then the celebrated character she was destined ere
long to be made.  To me she seemed a strikingly beautiful and
fascinating woman, all graciousness and vivacity--the life of
the company."

That the discordant status of the households of the official advisers
of the President was the topic of discussion among leading statesmen,
may be inferred from the following extract from a letter written
at the time by Daniel Webster:

"Mr. Van Buren has evidently, at this moment, quite the lead in
influence and importance.  He controls all the pages on the back
stairs, and flatters what seems to be, at present, the Aaron's
serpent among the President's desires, a settled purpose of making
out of the lady of whom so much has been said, a person of
reputation."

Of curious interest even now, is the closing sentence in Mr.
Webster's letter, in which with prophetic ken he forecasts the
effect of the Eaton controversy upon national politics:  "It is
odd enough, but too evident to be doubted, that the consequence of
this dispute in the social and fashionable world is producing great
political effects, and _may very probably determine who shall be
successor to the present chief magistrate."_

As explanatory of the above quotation, it will be remembered
that next to President Jackson, the two most prominent leaders
of the dominant party were Vice-President Calhoun and Secretary of
State Van Buren.  The political forces were even then gathering
around one or the other of these great leaders, and there was little
question in official circles that the successor to Jackson would
be either Van Buren or Calhoun.  It was equally certain that the
successful aspirant would be the one who had the good fortune to
secure the powerful influence of Jackson.  Chief among the friends
of Calhoun were the Cabinet officers Ingham, Branch, and Berrien.
The incumbent of the office of Postmaster-General--now for the
first time a Cabinet office--was William T. Barry of Kentucky.  He
was the friend of Van Buren, and in the social controversy mentioned,
he sided with the President and the Secretary of State as a champion
of Mrs. Eaton.  As to the views of the Vice-President upon the
all-absorbing question, we have no information.  Not being one
of the official advisers of the President, he probably kept entirely
aloof from a controversy no doubt in every way distasteful to him.

Meanwhile the relations between Secretary Eaton and his colleagues
of the Treasury, Navy, and Department of Justice, became more
and more unfriendly, until all communication other than of the most
formal official character ceased.  The soul of the President was
vexed beyond endurance; and as under existing conditions harmony
in his official family was impossible, he determined upon a
reorganization of his Cabinet.  To this end, the resignations of
Van Buren, Eaton, and Barry were voluntarily tendered, and promptly
accepted.  A formal request from the President to Messrs. Ingham,
Branch, and Berrien secured the resignation of these three official
advisers; and thus was brought about what is known in our political
history as "the disruption of Jackson's Cabinet."

The three gentlemen whose resignations had been voluntarily tendered,
were, in modern political parlance, at once "taken care of."
Mr. Van Buren was appointed minister to St. James, Barry to Madrid,
and Eaton to the governorship of Florida Territory.  No such
good fortune, however, was in store for either Ingham, Branch,
or Berrien.  Each was, henceforth, _persona non grata_ with President
Jackson.

The end, however, was not yet.  A publication by the retiring
Secretary of the Treasury contained an uncomplimentary allusion to
Mrs. Eaton, which resulted first in his receiving a challenge from
her husband, and later in a street altercation.

The almost forgotten incidents just mentioned were rapidly leading
up to matters of deep consequence.  The true significance of the
words of Webster last quoted will now appear.  A rupture, never
yet fully explained, now occurred between President Jackson and
Mr. Calhoun.  The intention of the former to secure to Mr. Van
Buren the succession to the presidency was no longer a matter of
doubt.

Van Buren, "the favorite," was meanwhile reposing upon no bed of
roses.  He was, in very truth, "in the thick of events."  His
confirmation as Minister was defeated by the casting vote of
Vice-President Calhoun, after the formal presentation of his
credentials to the Court to which he had been accredited.  It
was believed that this rejection would prove the death knell to
Van Buren's Presidential hopes.  But it was not so to be.  His
rejection aroused deep sympathy, secured his nomination upon the
ticket with Jackson in 1832, and for four years he presided over
the great body which had so lately rejected his nomination, and as
is well known, four years later he was chosen to succeed Jackson
as President.  Unfortunately for Calhoun, one of the ablest and
purest of statesmen, he had incurred the hostility of Jackson, and
never attained the goal of his ambition.

During my interview with Mrs. Eaton I said to her, "Madam, you must
have known General Jackson when he was President?"  "Known General
Jackson," she replied, "known General Jackson?"  "Oh, yes," I said,
"your husband was a member of his Cabinet and of course you must
have known him.  I would like to know what kind of a man General
Jackson really was?"  "What kind of a man," replied Mrs. Eaton in a
manner and tone not easily forgotten.  "What kind of _a man_--a
god, sir, a god."  The spirit of the past seemed over her, as with
trembling voice and deep emotion she spoke of the man whose powerful
and unfaltering friendship had been her stay and bulwark during
the terrible ordeal through which she had passed.

Accompanying her that evening to the humble home provided for her by
a distant relative, she remarked, "I have seen the time, sir, when
I could have invited you to an elegant home."  She then said
that when Major Eaton died, he left for her an ample fortune but
that some years later she unfortunately married a man younger than
herself, who succeeded in getting her property into his hands
and then cruelly deserted her.

Fiction indeed seems commonplace when contrasted with the story of
real life such as this now penniless and forgotten woman had known.
Once surrounded by all that wealth could give, herself one of
the most beautiful and accomplished of women, her husband the
incumbent of exalted official position,--now, wealth, beauty,
and position vanished; the grave hiding all she loved; sitting
in silence and desolation, the memories of the long past almost
her sole companions.  When in the tide of time has there been truer
realization of the words of the great bard--

  "The web of our life is of a mingled yarn,
  Good and ill together?"



X
THE CODE OF HONOR

BLADENSBURG, A PLACE NOTORIOUS FOR DUELS--FRANKLIN'S OPINION OF
DUELLING--NOTABLE MEN WHO FELL IN DUELS--FATAL DUEL BETWEEN COMMODORES
BARRON AND DECATUR--THE LAST DUEL FOUGHT AT BLADENSBURG--ITS CAUSE A
MERE PUNCTILIO--THE WRITER'S INTERVIEW WITH ONE OF THE SECONDS--
A DUEL IN REVOLUTION DAYS--GEORGE WASHINGTON DISSUADES GEN. GREENE
FROM ACCEPTING A CHALLENGE--GEN. CONWAY, FOR CONSPIRING AGAINST
WASHINGTON, WOUNDED BY COL. CADWALLADER--GEN. CHARLES LEE, ANOTHER
CONSPIRATOR, WOUNDED BY COL. LAURENS--DUEL BETWEEN CLINTON,
"THE FATHER OF THE ERIE CANAL," AND MR. SWARTOUT--THREE NOTABLE
REPLIES TO CHALLENGES--THE FATAL DUEL BETWEEN HAMILTON AND BURR
--UNHAPPINESS OF BURR'S OLD AGE--DUEL BETWEEN SENATOR BRODERICK
AND JUDGE TERRY--A HARMLESS DUEL BETWEEN SENATOR GWIN AND MR.
McCORKLE--A MURDER UNDER THE GUISE OF A DUEL--DUELLING BY ILLINOISANS
--LINCOLN'S INSTRUCTIONS FOR THE PRELIMINARIES OF HIS DUEL WITH
SENATOR SHIELDS.

The very name "Bladensburg" is suggestive of pistol and bullet,
savors indeed of human blood.  It is associated with tragic events
that during successive generations stirred emotions of indignation
and horror that have not yet wholly died out from the memories
of men.  As the words "Baden-Baden" and "Monte Carlo" bring before
us the gambler "steeped in the colors of his trade," so the mere
mention of Bladensburg calls to mind the duellist, pistol in hand,
standing in front of his slain antagonist.

Personal difficulties are now rarely if ever in this country adjusted
by an appeal to "the code."  The custom, now universally condemned
as barbarous, was at an early day practically upheld by an
almost omnipotent public opinion.  As is well known, in many
localities to have declined an invitation to "the field of honor" from
one entitled to the designation of a "gentleman" would have entailed
not only loss of social position, but to a public man would have
been a bar to future political advancement.  Thanks to a higher
civilization, and possibly a more exalted estimate of the sacredness
of human life, the code in all our American States is a thing of
the past.

And yet, revolting as the custom now appears, it held its place as
a recognized method for the settlement of personal controversies
among "gentlemen," to a time within the memories of men still
living.  The code, a heritage from barbaric times, lingered till
it had caused more than one bloody chapter to be written, until it
had taken from the walks of life more than one of our most
gifted American statesmen.

Truer words were never written than those of Franklin at the
time when the code was appealed to for the settlement of every
dispute pertaining to personal honor:  "A duel decides nothing;
the man appealing to it, makes himself judge in his own cause,
condemns the offender without a jury, and undertakes himself to be
the executioner."  And yet, the startling record remains that in
the State of New Jersey, one of the ablest and most brilliant of
statesmen met death at the hands of an antagonist scarcely less
gifted, who was at the time Vice-President of the United States.
The survivor of an encounter equally tragic, occurring near the
banks of the Cumberland in 1806, was a little more than a score of
years later elevated to the Presidency.  The valuable life of
the Secretary of State during the administration of the younger
Adams was saved only by his antagonist magnanimously refusing to
return the fire which came within an ace of ending his own life.
Thirteen years after the Clay and Randolph duel, a member of Congress
from Maine perished in an encounter at Bladensburg with a
representative from Kentucky.  Sixty-six years ago, a challenge to
mortal combat was accepted by one who in later years was twice
elected to the Presidency.  One of the signers of the Declaration
of Independence fell in a duel with an officer of the Colonial
army, soon after that great event.  There are many yet living
who read the startling telegram from the Pacific coast that a
Senator from California had fallen in a duel with the Chief Justice
of that State, and sad as it is, this dreadful recital might be
much farther extended.

While a member of Congress many years ago, in company with
Representatives Knott and McKenzie of Kentucky I spent some hours upon
the historic duelling ground at Bladensburg, a Maryland village of
a few hundred inhabitants, six miles from the city of Washington.
Governor Knott pointed out the exact spot where Barron and Decatur
stood in the memorable duel in 1820, in which the latter was killed.
It is impossible to read the account of this fatal meeting even
after the lapse of more than four score years, without a feeling
of profound regret for the sad fate of one of the most gallant
of all the brave officers the American Navy has known.  It was
truly said of Decatur:  "He was one of the most chivalric men of
any age or country."  He was one of the little band of naval
commanders who by heroic exploits at sea did so much to redeem the
American name from the humiliation and disgrace caused by incompetent
generalship upon land, in our second war with Great Britain.
His encounters with the enemy were of frequent occurrence, and
in each instance added new laurels to our little navy.  If Commodore
Decatur had rendered no other service to his country, that of the
destruction of the Algerine pirates would alone entitle him to a
place among its benefactors.  His skill and daring when in command
of our little fleet upon the Mediterranean destroyed forever the
power of "the common enemy of mankind," avenged the insult to
our flag, and secured for the American name an honored place among
the nations of the world.

The tragic death of Decatur--recalling so much of gallant service--
has cast a spell about his name.  It belongs in the list of immortals,
with the names of Sir Walter Raleigh, Captain Lawrence, Lord Nelson,
and Oliver Hazard Perry.  Cities and counties without number
throughout our entire country have been given the honored name
of Decatur.

Commodore Barron, too, had known much active service.  For an
alleged official delinquency, he had been court-martialed near the
close of the War of 1812, and sentenced to a suspension of five
years from his command.  Smarting under this humiliation, he was
bitter in his denunciation of all who were in any way concerned in
what he regarded an act of flagrant injustice to himself.  Chief
among the officers who had incurred his displeasure was Commodore Decatur.
A protracted and at length hostile correspondence ensued between the
two, and this correspondence resulted at length in a challenge from
Barron, accepted by Decatur.  The latter had repeatedly declared
that he bore no personal hostility toward Barron.  Before going to
the fatal field he told his friend William Wirt--then the
Attorney-General of the United States--that he did not wish to meet
Barron, and that the duel was forced upon him.  When he received
the challenge, he assured a brother officer that nothing could
induce him to take the life of Barron.  In connection with this
sad affair, Mr. Wirt--who was untiring in his efforts to effect
a reconciliation--has left the record of a conversation with Decatur
in which the latter declared his hostility to the practice of
duelling, but that he was "controlled by the omnipotence of public
sentiment."  "Fighting," said he, "is my profession, and it would be
impossible for me to keep my station and preserve my respectability
without showing myself ready at all times to answer the call of
any one who bore the name of gentleman."

The hostile meeting between Barron and Decatur occurred at the
place already mentioned, March 22, 1820.  The distance was eight
paces, the weapons, pistols.  Decatur's second was Captain Bainbridge,
at a later day a distinguished admiral in our navy.  As they
took their places at the deadly range, Barron said, "I hope on
meeting in another world we will be better friends than in this."
To which Decatur replied, "I have never been your enemy, sir."  At
the word both pistols were discharged, making but a single report.
Both combatants fell.  Decatur was supported a short distance, and
sank down near his antagonist, who was severely--and as it was then
supposed, mortally--wounded.  Mr. Wirt says:

"What then occurred reminded me of the closing scenes of the tragedy
between Hamlet and Laertes.  Barron proposed that they should make
friends before they met in another world.  Decatur said he had
never been his enemy, that he freely forgave him his death, but he
could not forgive those who had stimulated him to seek his life.
Barron then said:  'Would to God you had said that much yesterday.'"

Thus they parted in peace.  Decatur knew he was to die, and his
only regret was that he had not died in the service of his country.

The last duel fought at Bladensburg was in 1838, between Jonathan Cilley
and William J. Graves.  The former was at the time a Representative
in Congress from Maine, and the latter from Kentucky.  In its main
features, this duel is without a parallel.  It was fought upon a
pure technicality.  The parties to it never exchanged an unkind
word, and were in fact, almost up to the day of the fatal meeting,
comparative strangers to each other.

Briefly related, the fatal meeting between Cilley and Graves
came about in this wise.  In a speech in the House, Mr. Cilley
in replying to an editorial in _The New York Courier and Inquirer,_
criticised severely the conduct of its proprietor, James Watson
Webb, a noted Whig editor of that day.  At this, the latter, being
deeply offended and failing to obtain a retraction by Cilley of
the offensive words, challenged him to mortal combat.  The bearer of
this challenge was William J. Graves, a prominent Whig member of
the House.  Mr. Cilley in his letter to Mr. Graves, in which he
declined to receive the challenge of Webb, said:  "I decline to
receive it because I choose to be drawn into no controversy with
him.  I neither affirm nor deny anything in regard to his character,
but I now repeat what I have said to you, that I intended by the
refusal no disrespect to you."

This letter was considered unsatisfactory by Graves, and he
immediately sent by his colleague Mr. Menifee, a note to Cilley
then in his seat in the House, saying:  "In declining to receive
Colonel Webb's communication, you do not disclaim any exception to
him personally as a gentleman.  I have, therefore, to inquire
whether you declined to receive his communication on the ground of
any personal exception to him as a gentleman or a man of honor."
Mr. Cilley declining to give the categorical answer demanded, was
immediately challenged by Graves.  The challenge was borne by
Mr. Wise, a Representative from Virginia.  On the same evening,
Mr. Jones--then a delegate and later a Senator from Iowa--as the
second of Cilley, handed the note of acceptance of the latter to
Graves.  Bladensburg was designated as the place of meeting, rifles
the weapons, the distance eight yards, the rifles to be held
horizontally at arm's length down, to be cocked and triggers set, the
words to be, "Gentlemen, are you ready?"  Some delay was occasioned
by the difficulty in procuring a suitable rifle for Mr. Graves.
This was at length obviated, as will appear from the following note
of Mr. Jones to Mr. Wise:  "I have the honor to inform you that
I have in my possession an excellent rifle, in good order, which
is at the service of Mr. Graves."  With every courtesy proper to
the occasion rigidly observed, the rifle mentioned, "through the
politeness of Dr. Duncan," was sent to Mr. Graves, and the hostile
meeting occurred at the designated time, February 24, 1838.

From the report of a special committee of the House of Representatives
at a later day appointed to investigate this affair, it appears
that Mr. Graves was accompanied to the ground by his second, Mr.
Wise, Mr. Crittenden, and Mr. Menifee, two of his colleagues,
and Dr. Foltz his surgeon.  The attendants of Mr. Cilley were
his second, Mr. Jones, Representative Bynum of North Carolina, and
Colonel Schoenberg, and Dr. Duncan as his surgeon.  The Committee's
report then continues in these words:

"Shortly after three o'clock P. M. the parties exchanged shots
according to the terms of meeting.  Mr. Cilley fired first before
he had fully elevated his piece, and Mr. Graves one or two seconds
afterwards.  Both missed.  It is to the credit of both the seconds
and to the other gentlemen in attendance, than an earnest desire
was then manifested to have the affair terminated, as will appear from
the report already mentioned."

Mr. Jones now inquired of Mr. Wise whether Mr. Graves was satisfied,
to which Mr. Wise replied:  "These gentlemen have come here without
animosity toward each other; they are fighting merely upon a point
of honor.  Cannot Mr. Cilley assign some reason for not receiving at
Mr. Graves's hands Colonel Webb's communication, or make some
disclaimer which will relive Mr. Graves from his position?"  Mr.
Jones replied:  "While the challenge is impending, Mr. Cilley can
make no explanation."  Mr. Wise said:  "The exchange of shots
suspends the challenge, and the challenge is suspended for
explanation."  Mr. Jones thereupon went to Mr. Cilley, and after
returning said:

"I am authorized by my friend Mr. Cilley to say, that in declining
to receive the note from Mr. Graves purporting to come from Colonel
Webb, he meant no disrespect to Mr. Graves because he entertained for
him then as he does now, the highest respect and the most kind
feeling; but that he declined to receive the note because he chose
not to be drawn into any controversy with Colonel Webb."

The above not being satisfactory to Mr. Graves, and Mr. Cilley
declining to make further concession, the challenge was renewed
and the parties resumed their positions and again exchanged shots.
Mr. Graves fired first, before he had fully elevated his piece;
Mr. Cilley about two seconds afterwards.  They both missed, although
the witnesses then thought from the motions and appearance of
Mr. Graves that he was hit.  The latter immediately and peremptorily
demanded another shot.

The challenge was here again, for the time, withdrawn and
another unsuccessful attempt made by the seconds to effect an
adjustment.  In the light of what was so soon to follow, it is
painful to read that all this came about and continued to the bloody
end, because Mr. Cilley in substance refused to disclaim that
his declination of Webb's challenge was for the reason that he did
not consider him a gentleman.  His repeated assurance that in doing
so, he intended no disrespect to the bearer of the challenge,
for whom he entertained the most kindly feelings, strangely enough
to us was deemed insufficient.

The challenge being renewed, the parties, after due observance
of the formalities as before, confronted each other for the third and
last time.  And now closes the official report:  "the rifles being
loaded, the parties resumed their stations, and fired the third
time very near together.  Mr. Cilley was shot through the body.
He dropped his rifle, beckoned to some one near him, and said,
'I am shot,' put both his hands to his wound, fell, and in two
or three minutes expired."

What a commentary all this upon "the code of honor"!  Upon what
appears the shadow of a technicality even, two young men of recognized
ability, chosen representatives of the people, confronted each
other in continued combat, until death closed the scene, and neither
had the slightest feeling of hostility toward the other!  This
duel, so utterly groundless in its inception and bloody in its
termination, was the last fought in Bladensburg.  Intense excitement
followed the death of the lamented Cilley and public sentiment was
deeply aroused against the horrible custom of duelling.  But the
public sentiment that existed at the time must be taken into account
before a too ready condemnation of one of the actors in this fearful
tragedy.  In announcing the death of Mr. Cilley to the Senate, Mr.
Williams of Maine said:  "In accepting the call, he did nothing
more than he believed indispensable to avoid disgrace to himself, his
family, and his constituents."

While the presiding officer of the Senate, a gentleman of small
stature and advanced age called upon me and introduced himself
as George W. Jones, former Senator from Iowa.  I have rarely met
a more interesting man.  He was then ninety-two years of age,
apparently in perfect health, and as active as if, for his exclusive
benefit, the hands had been turned back three decades upon the
dial.  He had been a delegate from the Territory embracing the
present States of Iowa and Wisconsin, in the twenty-fifth Congress,
when the sessions of the House were held in the Old Hall.  Upon the
admission of Iowa as a State, he was chosen a Senator, a position he
held by successive elections for many years.  As delegate, he
had been the associate of John Quincy Adams, and as a Senator
the contemporary of Benton, Wright, Douglas, Cass, Seward, Preston,
Clay, Calhoun, and Webster.  He had personally known some of the
men whose public life reached back to the establishment of the
Government.  He had taken part in the discussion of great questions
that have left a deep impress upon history.  As I listened to his
description of the men I have named, and of the momentous events
with which their names are associated, he seemed indeed the sole
connecting link between the present and the long past.

But what interested me most deeply in the almost forgotten old man
before me, was the fact that he was the second of the unfortunate Cilley
upon the ill-fated day at Bladensburg.  The conversation at length
turned to that event, and strangely enough, he manifested no
suggestion of embarrassment at its mention.  He spoke in the highest
terms of Mr. Cilley, as a gentleman of lofty character, of unfaltering
courage, of rare gifts, and of splendid promise.  It was evident
that the passing years had not dimmed his memory of the tragic
event, nor lessened his regret at the sad ending of an affair with
which his own name is inseparably associated.

The first duel between men of prominence in this country, was that
of Gwinett and McIntosh.  The fact that one of the parties, Button
Gwinett, was a signer of the Declaration of Independence gives
it historic interest.  He was one of the three delegates from
Georgia in the second Continental Congress, and an earnest champion
of independence.  Six years before, he had emigrated from England,
purchased a large tract of land, and devoted himself to agricultural
pursuits.  Less is known of him, probably, than of any of the
signers of the Declaration.

In 1777, he became involved in a bitter personal quarrel with
General McIntosh, an officer of the Revolution.  Deeply offended
at his conduct, Gwinett challenged him to mortal combat.  They
fought with pistols at a distance of twelve feet, and Gwinett
was killed.  He is buried at Augusta, Georgia, with his two colleagues
in the Continental Congress.

It is now an almost forgotten fact that, but for the wise counsel of
his superior officer, Nathaniel Greene, next to Washington the
ablest of the American generals, would have been a party to a duel
at a time when his services were so greatly in demand.  Soon after
his transfer to the southern army, Greene was challenged by a
captain of his command.  Fearing that a declination upon his
part would be misunderstood by his brother officers, Greene
wrote General Washington a full account of the transaction,
concluding:  "If I thought my honor or reputation would suffer
in the opinion of the world, and more especially with the military
gentlemen, I value life too little to hesitate a moment to
accept the challenge."  The answer of one of the wisest of men
possibly saved to our little army one whose loss would have been
disastrous to his country at that critical moment.  Said Washington:

"I give it as my decided opinion, that your honor and reputation
will stand not only perfectly acquitted for the non-acceptance
of his challenge, but that your prudence and judgment would have
been condemned by accepting it; because if a commanding officer is
amenable to private calls for the discharge of his public duty, he
has a dagger always at his heart, and can turn neither to the right
nor to the left without meeting its point."

The timely words of Washington had the desired effect, and very
probably saved General Greene to a brilliant career of usefulness and
glory.

One of the most interesting incidents of our Revolutionary history,
is what is known as "The Conway Cabal," the attempt to displace
Washington from the supreme command and substitute General Horatio
Gates in his stead.  The latter was then in high favor as the hero
of Saratoga and the capturer of the invading army of Burgoyne.  In
this connection, the prophetic words of the deeply embittered
General Charles Lee will be recalled.  On his way to take command of
the southern army to which he had just been assigned, Gates called
upon Lee, then in disgrace and retirement at his home.  Both
were Englishmen, had known service together in the British army,
and were at the time owners of neighboring plantations in what
is now Jefferson County, West Virginia.  When parting, Lee
significantly remarked to this old comrade, "Gates, your
Northern laurels will soon be turned into Southern willows."
The disastrous defeat at Camden soon thereafter terminated the
military career of Gates no less effectually than the timely "curse"
of Washington had terminated that of Lee upon his disgraceful
retreat at the battle of Monmouth.

The result of the "Cabal" above mentioned was a challenge from
Colonel Cadwallader to General Conway, whose name has come down to
us associated with the conspiracy to supersede Washington by Gates.
In an encounter which immediately followed, Conway was seriously
wounded.  Believing his wound to be mortal, he called for pen
and paper and did much to retrieve his reputation by writing the
following letter to Washington:

"SIR:  I find myself just able to hold my pen during a few moments
and take this opportunity of expressing my sincere grief for having
written, said, or done anything disagreeable to Your Excellency.
My career will soon be over, therefore justice and truth prompt me
to declare my last sentiments.  You are in my eyes the great and
good man.  May you long enjoy the love, esteem, and veneration
of these States whose liberties you have asserted by your virtues."

Conway eventually recovered, entered the army of France, and died in
its service.

General Charles Lee was indeed a soldier of fortune.  A native
of England, he held a commission in the British army, and later in
that of the King of Italy.  As the result of a duel in which he
slew an Italian officer, he fled to America, and tendered his
services to the Continental Congress just at the beginning of
the struggle for independence.  He was placed second in command to
Washington and was not without supporters for the coveted position
of Commander-in-chief.  He was from the beginning the enemy of
Washington, and deeply resented the fact that his position was
subordinate to that of the younger and less experienced officer,
for whose ability he expressed great contempt.  He was a friend of
Gates and one of the chief conspirators in the Conway Cabal.  His
military career closed at the battle of Monmouth, and from letters
that have come to light there is little doubt that he was then
in treasonable correspondence with the enemy.

After being deprived of his command at Monmouth, he was challenged
by Colonel John Laurens, one of the aides of the Commander-in-chief,
because of his denunciation of Washington.  The challenge was
accepted, and the parties fought with pistols in a retired spot
near Philadelphia.  Additional interest attaches to this duel from
the fact that Colonel Alexander Hamilton of Washington's staff,
was the second for Laurens.

At the first fire Lee was wounded, and then, through the interposition
of Hamilton the affair terminated.  The gratifying narrative has
come down to us that, "upon the whole, we think it a piece of
justice to the two gentlemen to declare that, after they met, their
conduct was strongly marked with all the politeness, generosity,
coolness, and firmness, that ought to characterize a transaction
of this nature."

The last years of Lee's life were spent at his Virginia plantation.
He died in an obscure boarding-house in Philadelphia, in 1782.
Upon a visit I made to his Virginia home some years ago, I was
shown a certified copy of his will, which contained this remarkable
provision:

"It is my will, that I shall not be buried within one mile of
any churchyard, or of any Presbyterian or Anabaptist church, for
the reason that _as I have kept a great deal of bad company in this
world, I do not wish to do so in the next."_

This country has known few abler or more eminent men than DeWitt
Clinton.  He was successively Mayor of the city of New York, Governor
of that State, a Senator in Congress, and in 1812 an unsuccessful
candidate for the Presidency against Mr. Madison.  Distinguished as a
lawyer and statesman, he is even better known as "the Father of the
Erie Canal."  His biographer says:

"After undergoing constant, unremitting, and factious resistance, he
had the felicity of being borne, in October, 1825, in a barge on
the artificial river--which he seemed to all to have constructed
--from Lake Erie to the Bay of New York, while bells were rung,
and cannon saluted him at every stage of that imposing progress."

In 1803, while in the Senate, Clinton accepted a challenge from
General Dayton, a Senator from New Jersey.  The ground of the
challenge was words spoken by the former in debate.  Before the
hostile meeting, however, through the interposition of friends a
satisfactory explanation upon the part of Clinton resulted in a
peaceable adjustment, and the restoration of friendly relations
between the two Senators.

An "affair of honor" in which Clinton was engaged one year earlier,
was not quite so easily adjusted.  This was with a noted politician
of that day, John Swartout of New York.  The latter was the friend
of Aaron Burr, the political and personal enemy of Clinton.  Swartout
was the challenging party, and the hostile meeting occurred near
the city of New York.  On the ground, after the parties had been
placed in position, Clinton is said to have expressed regret
that Burr--the real principal in the controversy--was not before
him.  History might have run in a different channel had such been the
fact.

Three pistol shots were exchanged without effect, at the end of
each the second of Clinton demanding of Swartout, "Are you satisfied,
sir?" to which the answer was, "I am not."  To this, at the
third exchange, was added, "neither shall I be until that apology is
made which I have demanded of Mr. Clinton."  Mr. Clinton declined to
sign a paper presented, but declared that he had no animosity
against Mr. Swartout, and would willingly shake hands and agree to
meet on the score of former friendship.  This being unsatisfactory,
the fourth shot was promptly exchanged.  Fortune, heretofore
reluctant to decide between her favorites, now leaned toward the
challenged party--Mr. Swartout being struck just below the knee.
In reply to the inquiry, "Are you satisfied, sir?" standing
erect while the surgeon kneeling beside him removed the ball, he
answered, "I am not; _proceed."_  The fifth shot being exchanged, Mr.
Swartout's other leg was the recipient of his antagonist's bullet.
The voice of the wounded man being still for war, Mr. Clinton here
threw down his pistol, declaring he would fight no longer, and
immediately retired from the ground.  The second of the remaining
belligerent now advised his principal to retire also and have his
wounds dressed, which certainly seemed reasonable under all the
circumstances.

An answer to a challenge that might well stand for a model for all
time, was that given during the administration of the older Adams by
Mr. Thatcher of Massachusetts, to Blount of North Carolina.  The
challenge grew out of a heated debate in the House.  In reply,
Thatcher said in substance, that being a husband and father, his
family had an interest in his life, and that he could not think of
accepting the invitation without the consent of his wife, that
he would immediately consult her, and _if successful in obtaining her
permission,_ he would meet Mr. Blount with pleasure.  Whereupon
Fisher Ames, one of the great men of the day, wittily remarked to a
bachelor colleague, "Behold now the advantage of having a wife--
God preserve us all from gunpowder!"

The reply of Thatcher was read in the House, causing much merriment
and leaving his adversary--

  "Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
  And the sad burden of some merry song."

It is hardly necessary to add that at last accounts the consent of
Mrs. Thatcher had not been obtained.

It is scarcely remembered that Lord Byron, angered by a bitter
criticism, once challenged the poet Southey.  Accepting the challenge
conditionally, Southey added:

"In affairs of this kind, the participants ought to meet on
equal terms.  But to establish the equality between you and me
there are two things that ought to be done, and a third may also be
necessary before I meet you on the field.  First, you must marry
and have four children--all girls.  Second, you must prove that
the greater part of the provision which you make for them depends upon
you life, and you must be under bond for four thousand pounds not to
be hanged, commit suicide, nor be killed in a duel, which are
the conditions upon which I have insured my life for the benefit
of my wife and daughters.  Third, you must convert me to infidelity.
We can then meet on equal terms, _and your challenge will be
cheerfully accepted."_

Since the writing of the letters of Junius, nothing probably has
appeared equal in invective to the correspondence seventy years
ago between Daniel O'Connell and Benjamin Disraeli.  The former
was at the time a distinguished member of Parliament, and an orator
without a peer.  Disraeli, at first a supporter of the policy of
the great Liberator, had joined the ranks of his enemies, and
was unsparing in his denunciation of O'Connell and his party.
In his reply O'Connell, after charging his assailant with ingratitude
and treachery, concluded as follows:

"I cannot divest my mind of the belief that if your genealogy were
traced, it would be found that you are the lineal descendant and
true heir-at-law of the impenitent thief who atoned for his crimes
upon the cross."

The challenge from Disraeli, which immediately followed, was treated
by O'Connell with supreme contempt.

The duel between Hamilton and Burr is of perennial interest to the
American people.  Both were men of great distinction and
splendid talents.  Both had been soldiers during the Revolutionary
War, and Hamilton was the confidential friend and for a time
chief-of-staff of Washington.  Burr had been a Senator from New
York, and was at the time of the duel Vice-President of the United
States.  He was one of the recognized leaders of the dominant party,
and by many considered the probable successor of Jefferson in
the great office.  Whatever hopes he might have had for the Presidency
were destroyed by his alleged attempt to defeat Jefferson and secure
his own elevation by the House of Representatives in 1801.  His
hostility to Hamilton had its beginning in the opposition of the
latter to Burr's aspirations to the Presidency.  Differing widely,
as Hamilton did, with Jefferson upon important questions then
pending, he nevertheless preferred the latter to Burr, and his
influence eventually turned the scales--after a protracted struggle
--in favor of Jefferson.

The valuable service just mentioned was one of the many rendered
by Hamilton.  He was the earnest advocate of the adoption of the
Federal Constitution, and his papers during that pivotal struggle have
justly given him high place in the list of American statesmen.  He
was the first Secretary of the Treasury, and possibly no man
possessed in larger degree the confidence of Washington.

Aaron Burr was the grandson of the great New England minister,
Jonathan Edwards, whose only daughter, Edith, was the wife of
the Reverend Aaron Burr, an eminent Presbyterian clergyman and
President of Princeton College.  From all that is known of this
gentleman, there can be no doubt that his ability and piety were
unquestioned.  Edith, his wife, was a woman of rare gifts and one of
the loveliest of her sex.  The pathetic reference to her in the
funeral sermon over Hamilton will be remembered:  "If there be tears
in Heaven, a pious mother looks down upon this scene and weeps."

Hamilton and Burr were both citizens of New York, the latter, of
Albany, the former, of New York City.  At the time of the challenge
Hamilton held no public office, but was engaged in a lucrative
practice of the law.  Burr was near the expiration of his term
as Vice-President, and was a prospective candidate for Governor of
New York.  This candidacy was the immediate cause of the correspondence
which resulted in the fatal encounter.  Four letters passed between
Burr and Hamilton prior to the formal challenge.  The first was
from Burr, and bears date June 18, 1804.  In it attention is directed
to a published letter of Dr. Cooper containing the words, "General
Hamilton and Judge Kent have declared in substance that they
look upon Mr. Burr to be a dangerous man, and one who ought not to
be trusted with the reins of government.  And I could detail to you
a still more deplorable opinion which General Hamilton has expressed
of Mr. Burr."

It was to the last sentence that the attention of Hamilton was
especially directed by Mr. Van Ness, the bearer of the letter,
which closed with the demand upon the part of Burr of "a prompt
and unqualified acknowledgment or denial, of the use of any expression
which would warrant the assertion of Dr. Cooper."

In his reply the next day Hamilton said:

"I cannot reconcile it with propriety to make the acknowledgment
or denial you desire.  I will add that I deem it inadmissable on
principle to consent to be interrogated as to the justness of
the inferences which may be drawn from others, from whatever I may
have said of a political opponent in the course of fifteen
years' competition.  I stand ready to avow, or disavow promptly
and explicitly, any precise or definite opinion which I may be
charged with having declared of any gentleman.  More than this
cannot be fitly expected from me; and especially it cannot be
reasonably expected that I shall enter into an explanation upon
a basis so vague as that which you have adopted.  I trust on
more reflection, you will see the matter in the same light with
me.  If not, I can only regret the circumstance, and must abide
the consequences."

The immediate response of Burr to the above, after repeating his
former demand, contained the following:

"Political opposition can never absolve gentlemen from the necessity
of a rigid adherence to the laws of honor and the rules of decorum.
I neither claim such privilege, nor indulge it in others."

Hamilton's reply being unsatisfactory, the formal challenge of Burr
was soon thereafter handed to him by W. P. Van Ness.  The last
named was the second of Burr, and Nathaniel Pendleton was the friend
of Hamilton.

Some days elapsed after the formal acceptance of the challenge
before the fatal meeting.  That Hamilton was anxious to avoid
the conflict, clearly appears from a perusal of the many publications
that immediately followed.  A paper he prepared explanatory in
character, the second of Burr declined to receive, on the ground
that he considered the correspondence closed by the acceptance
of the challenge.

It touches our sympathies deeply even after the lapse of a century
to read the letter written by Hamilton to his wife to be delivered
in the event of his death, in which he states that he has endeavored
by all honorable means to avoid the duel which probably he would
not survive.  He begs her forgiveness for the pain his death would
cause her, and entreats her to bear her sorrows as one who has
placed a firm reliance on a kind Providence.

A few days before his death, he and Burr were guests at a dimmer
given by the Cincinnati Society, of which both were members.
Few persons were aware of what was pending, but it was observed
that Hamilton "entered with glee into all the gayety of a convivial
party, and even sang an old military song."  Burr, upon the contrary,
was "silent, gloomy, and remained apart."

In his will, written July 9, Hamilton expressed deep regret that
his death will prevent the full payment of his debts.  He expresses
the hope that his children will, in time, make up to his creditors
all that may be due them.  After tenderly committing to his children
the care of their mother, he says, "in all situations you are
charged to bear in mind, that she has been to you the most devoted
and best of mothers."

The last paper that came from his pen was evidently intended as
his vindication to posterity, his appeal to time.  In this he says:

"I was certainly desirous of avoiding this interview, for the most
cogent reasons.  My religious and moral principles are strongly
opposed to duelling, and it would give me pain to be obliged to
shed the blood of a fellow-creature in a private combat forbidden by
the laws.  My wife and children are extremely dear to me, and my
life is of the utmost importance to them.  I am conscious of no
ill-will to Colonel Burr distinct from political opposition, which
I trust has proceeded from pure and upright motives.  Lastly, I
shall hazard much and shall possibly gain nothing by the issue
of the interview.  But it was impossible for me to avoid it."

He candidly admits that his criticisms of Colonel Burr have been
severe.  He says:

"And on different occasions, I--in common with many others--have
made very unfavorable criticisms of the private character of
this gentleman.  It is not my design to fix any odium on the conduct
of Colonel Burr in this case.  He may have supposed himself under the
necessity of acting as he has done.  I hope the grounds of his
proceeding have been such as to satisfy his own conscience.  I
trust, at the same time, that the world will do me the justice
to believe that I have not censured him on light grounds, nor from
unworthy inducements."

How strangely in the light of history sounds the following:  "It
is my ardent wish that he, by his future conduct, may show himself
worthy of all confidence and esteem, and prove an ornament and
blessing to the country."

That some lingering apprehension existed in the mind of General
Hamilton that his criticisms of Colonel Burr might not have been
altogether generous, appears from the following:

"As well because it is possible that I may have injured Colonel
Burr, however convinced myself that my opinions and declarations
have been well-founded, as from my general principles and temper
in relation to similar affairs, I have resolved, if our interview is
conducted in the usual manner, and it please God to give me the
opportunity, to reserve and throw away my first fire; and I have
thought even of reserving my second fire, and thus giving to Colonel
Burr a double opportunity to pause and to reflect."

And then, before laying down his pen for the last time, he struck the
keynote to the conduct of many brave men who, like himself,
reluctantly accepted a call to "the field of honor."  These are
his closing words:

"To those who with me, abhorring the practice of duelling, may
think that I ought under no account to have added to the number of
bad examples, I answer, that my relative situation as well in public
as in private enforcing all the considerations which constitute
what men of the world denominate honor imposed on me a peculiar
necessity not to decline the call.  The ability to be in future
useful, whether in arresting mischief or effecting good in this
crisis of our public affairs which seemed likely to happen,
would probably be inseparable from a conformity with public prejudice
in this particular."

At seven o'clock in the morning of July 11, 1804, at Weehawken,
New Jersey, the fatal meeting took place.  After the usual
formal salutation, the parties were placed in position by their
seconds, ten paces apart, the pistols placed in their hands, and
the word being given both fired.  General Hamilton instantly fell.
The statement subsequently given out by the seconds is as follows:

"Colonel Burr then advanced toward General Hamilton with a manner and
gesture that appeared to be expressive of regret, but without
speaking turned about and withdrew, being urged from the field
by his friends.  No further communication took place between the
principals, and the barge that carried Colonel Burr immediately
returned to the city.  We conceive it proper to add that the conduct
of the parties in this interview was perfectly proper as suited
the occasion."

The surgeon in attendance states that after Hamilton was borne
to the barge he observed, "Pendleton knows that I did not intend
to fire at him."  As they approached the shore he said, "Let
Mrs. Hamilton be immediately sent for; let the event be gradually broken
to her, but give her hopes."  His physician adds:

"During the night his mind retained its usual strength and composure.
The great source of his anxiety seemed to be in his sympathy with his
half-distracted wife and children.  'My beloved wife and children'
was his often used expression, but his fortitude triumphed over
his situation, dreadful as it was.  Once, indeed, at the sight
of his children, seven in number, brought to his bedside together,
his utterance forsook him.  To his wife he said in a firm voice
but with a pathetic and impressive manner, 'Remember, my Eliza,
that you are a Christian.'  His words and the tone in which they
were uttered, will never be effaced from my memory."

After indescribable agony, death came at two o'clock of the day
succeeding the duel.  Thus, at the age of forty-seven, perished
Alexander Hamilton, a great man in any country or time.  Cities
and counties bear his name in almost every American State.  The
story of his wondrous life and tragic death will never lose its
pathetic interest.  His unswerving devotion to the country of
his adoption, his untiring efforts in the establishment of the
national Government, and his friendship for Washington, which knew
no abatement, have given Hamilton honored and enduring place in
American history.

As to Burr, the proverb found instant verification that "in duels the
victor is always the victim."  Had he, instead of Hamilton, fallen
on that ill-fated July morning, how changed their possible places in
history.  A halo has gathered about the name of Hamilton.  Monuments
have been erected to his memory, his statue has been given high
place in the Capitol.  The hour of his fall was that of his
exaltation.

The self-same hour witnessed the ruin of his antagonist.  From the
fatal field, unharmed in body, he turned away, henceforth to the
followed by the execrations of his countrymen.  Past services were
forgotten, brilliant talents availed nothing.  His desperate attempt
to found a rival government by the partial dismemberment of the
one he had helped to establish was thwarted, and after years of
poverty and misfortune abroad, he returned to die in neglect and
obscurity in his own country.  As was truly said:  "He was the last
of his race; there was no kindred hand to smooth his couch, or wipe
the death-damp from his brow.  No banners drooped over his bier;
no melancholy music floated upon the reluctant air."

The Hon. Hamilton Spencer, one of the ablest of lawyers, gave me
an interesting account of an interview he had with Colonel Burr in
Albany not long before his death.  Notwithstanding his advanced
age, broken health, and ruined fortunes, he deeply impressed Mr.
Spencer as a gentleman of most courteous manners, dignified bearing,
and commanding presence such as he had rarely seen.

The one object of his love was his daughter, the beautiful Theodosia.
Her devotion to her father increased with his accumulating misfortunes.
The ship in which she sailed from her home in Charleston, South
Carolina, to meet him in New York, never reached its destination.
In all history, there are few pictures more pathetic than that
of the gray-haired, friendless man, with faded cloak drawn closely
about him, day after day wandering alone by the seaside, anxiously
awaiting the coming of the one being who loved him, the idolized
daughter whose requiem was even then being chanted by the waves.

One of the men I occasionally met in Washington was Joseph C.
McKibben, a former representative in Congress from the Pacific
coast.  He was thoroughly familiar with the history of California from
its cession to the United States at the close of the Mexican War.
He had been an active participant in many of the stirring events
occurring soon after the admission of the State into the Union.

  "Men, except in bad novels, are not all good, or all evil."

Colonel McKibben was the second of David C. Broderick in his
duel with Judge Terry.  At the time of the duel, Broderick was a
Senator of the United States, and Terry the Chief Justice of
California.  The challenge given by Terry was promptly accepted.
As will be remembered, in the encounter which immediately followed,
Terry escaped unhurt and Broderick was killed.

I recall vividly the description given me of the meeting between
these men in that early Spring morning in 1859.  Both possessed
unquestioned courage.  Their demeanor upon the field, as in deadly
attitude they confronted each other a few paces apart, was that of
absolute fearlessness.  "Each had set his life upon a cast, and
was ready to stand the hazard of the die."

Rarely have truer words been uttered than those of the gifted Baker
over the dead body of Broderick:

"The code of honor is a delusion and a snare; it palters with
the hope of true courage, and binds it at the feet of crafty and
cruel skill.  It surrounds its victim with the pomp and grace of
the procession, but leaves him bleeding on the altar.  It
substitutes cold and deliberate preparedness for courage and manly
impulse, and arms the one to disarm the other.  It makes the mere
trick of the weapon superior to the noblest cause and the truest
courage.  Its pretence of equality is a lie; it is equal in all the
form, it is unjust in all the substance.  The habitude of arms,
the early training, the frontier life, the border war, the sectional
custom, the life of leisure, all these are advantages which no
negotiations can neutralize, and which no courage can overcome.
Code of honor!  It is a prostitution of the name, is an evasion of
the substance, and is a shield blazoned with the name of chivalry to
cover the malignity of murder."

The tragic ending of the eventful career of Judge Terry, which
occurred within the last decade, will be readily recalled.
Immediately following his assault upon Justice Field at the railway
station in Lathrop, California, he was slain by a deputy United
States marshal.  The wife of Terry was at his side, and the scene that
followed beggars description.

The name of Terry at once recalls the "Vigilance Committee" of
early San Francisco days.  The committee was composed largely of
leading men of the "law-and-order" element of the city.  Robberies
and murders were of nightly occurrence, and gamblers and criminals
in many instances were the incumbents of the public offices.
The organization mentioned became an imperative necessity for
the protection of life and property.  The work of the committee
constitutes one of the bloodiest chapters of early Californian
history.

Nearly a third of a century ago, Colonel Thornton, a prominent
lawyer of San Francisco, related to me an incident which he had
witnessed during the time the famous Vigilance Committee was in
complete control.  A young lawyer, recently located in San Francisco,
was arrested for stabbing a well-known citizen who was at the time
one of the most active members of the Vigilance Committee.  The
name of the lawyer was David S. Terry, at a later day Chief Justice
of the State.  The dread tribunal was presided over by one of
the most courageous and best known citizens of the Pacific coast.
At a later day, his name was presented by his State to the National
Convention of his party for nomination for the Vice-Presidency.

When brought before the Vigilance Committee, the demeanor of Terry
was that of absolute fearlessness.  Standing erect and perfectly
self-possessed, he listened to the ominous words of the president:
"Mr. Terry, you are charged with attempted murder; what have you
to say?"  Advancing a step nearer the committee "organized to
convict," and in a tone that at once challenged the respect of all,
Terry replied, "If your Honor please, I recognize the jurisdiction
of this court, and am ready for trial."  He then clearly established
the fact that his assault was in self-defence, and after a masterly
speech, delivered with as much self-possession as if a life other than
his own trembled in the balance, was duly acquitted.

Another California with whom I was personally acquainted, was
William M. Gwin.  He had long passed the allotted three score
and ten when I first met him at the home of the late Senator Sharon.
Few men have known so eventful a career.  He had been the
private secretary of Andrew Jackson.  He knew well the public men of
that day, and related many interesting incidents of the stormy
period of the latter years of Jackson's Presidency.  In his
early manhood Gwin was a member of Congress from Alabama.  At the
close of the Mexican War he removed to California, and upon the
admission of that State he and John C. Fremont were chosen its
first Senators in Congress.

During a ride with him, he pointed out to me the spot where he had
fought a duel in early California days.  He was then a Senator,
and his antagonist the Hon. J. W. McCorkle, a member of Congress.
A card signed by their respective seconds appeared the day following,
to the effect that after the exchange of three ineffectual shots
between the Hon. William M. Gwin and the Hon. J. W. McCorkle, the
friends of the respective parties, having discovered that _their
principals were fighting under a misapprehension of facts,_ mutually
explained to their respective principals how the misapprehension
had arisen.  As a result, Senator Gwin promptly denied the cause
of provocation and Mr. McCorkle withdrew his offensive language
uttered at the race-course, and expressed regret at having used it.

To a layman in these "piping times of peace" it would appear the
more reasonable course to have avoided "a misapprehension of facts"
before even three ineffectual shots.

At the beginning of the great civil conflict, the fortunes of
Senator Gwin were cast with the South, and at its close he became a
citizen of Mexico.  Maximilian was then Emperor, and one of his
last official acts was the creation of a Mexican Duke out of the
sometime American Senator.  The glittering empire set up by Napoleon
the Third and upheld for a time by French bayonets, was even then,
however, tottering to its fall.

When receiving the Ducal coronet from the Imperial hand the
self-expatriated American statesman might well have inquired,

  "But shall we wear these glories for a day,
  Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?"

A few months later, at the behest of our Government, the French
arms were withdrawn, the bubble of Mexican Empire vanished, and
the ill-fated Maximilian had bravely met his tragic end.  Thenceforth,
a resident but no longer a citizen of the land that had given
him birth, William M. Gwin, to the end of his life, bore the
high sounding but empty title of "Duke of Sonora."

Frequent as have been the instances in our own country where death
has resulted from duelling, it is believed that in but one has the
survivor incurred the extreme penalty of the law.  That one case
occurred in 1820 in Illinois.  What was intended merely as a "mock
duel" by their respective friends, was fought with rifles by William
Bennett and Alphonso Stewart in Belleville.  It was privately agreed
by the seconds of each that the rifles should be loaded with blank
cartridges.  This arrangement was faithfully carried out so far as
the seconds were concerned; but Bennett, the challenging party,
managed to get a bullet into his own gun.  The result was the
immediate death of Stewart, and the flight of his antagonist.  Upon
his return to Belleville a year or two later, Bennett was immediately
arrested, placed upon trial, convicted, and executed.

In more than one instance, at a later day, while well-known
Illinoisans have been parties to actual or prospective duels, no
instance has occurred of a hostile meeting of that character within
the limits of the State.  A late auditor of public account, but
recently deceased, killed his antagonist in a duel with rifles
nearly half a century ago in California.

William I. Ferguson, one of the most brilliant orators Illinois
has known, in early professional life the associate of men who have
since achieved national distinction, fell in a duel while a member
of the State Senate in California.

During the sitting of the Illinois Constitutional Convention of
1847, two of its prominent members, Campbell and Pratt, delegates from
the northern tier of counties, became involved in a bitter personal
controversy which resulted in a challenge by Pratt to mortal combat.
The challenge was accepted and the principals with their seconds repaired
to the famous "Bloody Island" in the Mississippi, when by the
interposition of friends a peaceable settlement was effected.  The sequel
to this happily averted duel was the incorporation in the Constitution,
then in process of formulation, of a provision prohibiting duelling in
the State, and attaching severe penalties to sending or accepting
a challenge.

The earliest hostile meeting of Illinoisans was upon the island
last mentioned before State organization had been effected.  The
principals were young men of well-known courage and ability--one
of whom, Shadrack Bond, upon the admission of Illinois was elected
its Governor.  His adversary, John Rice Jones, was the first lawyer
to locate in the Illinois country, and was the brother of the second
of the unfortunate Cilley in the tragic encounter already related.
The late Governor Bissell of Illinois was once challenged by
Jefferson Davis.  Both were at the time members of Congress, and
the _casus belli_ was language reflecting upon the conduct of some
of the participants in the then recently fought battle of Buena
Vista.  After the acceptance of the challenge, mutual friends of
Davis and Bissell effected a reconciliation, just before the hour set
for the hostile meeting.

So far as Illinois combatants are concerned, the historic island
mentioned above has little claim to its bloody designation, inasmuch
as the "affairs" mentioned, and one much more famous, yet to be
noted, were all honorably adjusted without physical harm to any of
the participants.

The "affair of honor," the mention of which will close this chapter,
owes its chief importance to the prominence attained at a later
day by its principals.  The challenger, James Shields, was at that
time, 1842, a State officer of Illinois, and later a general in
two wars and a Senator from three States.  The name of his adversary
has since "been given to the ages."  Mr. Lincoln was, at the time he
accepted Mr. Shields's challenge, a young lawyer, unmarried, residing
at the State capital.  He was the recognized leader of the Whig
party, and an active participant in the fierce political conflicts
of the day.  Some criticism in which he had indulged, touching the
administration of the office of which Shields was the incumbent,
was the immediate cause of the challenge.

That Mr. Lincoln was upon principle opposed to duelling would be
readily inferred from his characteristic kindness.  That "we are
time's subjects," however, and that the public opinion of sixty-odd
years ago is not that of to-day will readily appear from the
published statement of his friend Dr. Merryman:

"I told Mr. Lincoln what was brewing, and asked him what course he
proposed to himself.  He said that he was wholly opposed to duelling
and would do anything to avoid it that might not degrade him in
the estimation of himself and friends; but if such a degradation, or
a fight, were the only alternatives, he would fight."

It is stated by one of the biographers of Mr. Lincoln that he
was ever after averse to any allusion to the Shields affair.  From
the terms of his acceptance, it is evident that he intended neither
to injure his adversary seriously nor to receive injury at his
hands.  In his lengthy letter of instruction to his second, he
closed by saying:

"If nothing like this is done, the preliminaries of the fight are to
be, first, weapons:  cavalry broadswords of the largest size,
precisely equal in all respects.  Second, position:  a plank ten
feet long and from nine to twelve inches broad, to be firmly fixed
on edge on the ground as the line between us which neither is to
pass his foot over upon forfeit of his life.  Next, a line drawn
on the ground on either side of said plank and parallel with it,
each at the distance of the whole length of the sword, and three
feet additional from the plank; the passing of his own line by
either party during the fight shall be deemed a surrender of the
contest.  Third, time:  on Thursday evening at five o'clock within
three miles of Alton on the opposite side of the river, the particular
spot to be agreed on by you.  Any preliminary details coming within
the above rules you are at liberty to make at your discretion, but
you are in no case to swerve from these rules or to pass beyond
their limits."

The keen sense of the humorous, with which Mr. Lincoln was so
abundantly gifted, seems not to have wholly deserted him even in
the serious moments when penning an acceptance to mortal combat.
The terms of meeting indicated--which he as the challenged party
had the right to dictate--lend color to the opinion that he regarded
the affair in the light of a mere farce.  His superior height
and length of arm remembered, and the position of the less favored
Shields, with broadsword in hand, at the opposite side of the board,
and not permitted "upon forfeit of his life" to advance an inch
--the picture is indeed a ludicrous one.

Out of the lengthy statements of the respective seconds--the
publication of which came near involving themselves in personal
altercation--it appears that all parties actually reached the
appointed rendezvous on time.

But it was not written in the book of fate that this duel was to
take place.  Something of mightier moment was awaiting one of
the actors in this drama.  Two level-headed men, R. W. English and
John J. Hardin, the friends respectively of Shields and Lincoln,
crossing the Mississippi in a canoe close in the wake of the
belligerents, reached the field just before the appointed hour.
These gentlemen, acting in concert with the seconds, Whiteside and
Merryman, soon effected a reconciliation deemed honorable to all, and
the Shields-Lincoln duel passed to the domain of history.  That
the reconciliation thus brought about was sincere was evidenced by
the fact that one of the earliest acts of President Lincoln was
the appointment of General Shields to an important military command.

How strangely "the whirligig of time brings in his revenges!"  A
few paces apart in the old Hall at the Capitol at Washington, stand
two statues, the contribution of Illinois for enduring place in
the "Temple of the Immortals."  One is the statue of Lincoln,
the other that of Shields.



XI
A PRINCELY GIFT

DESCENT OF JAMES SMITHSON, FOUNDER OF THE SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION--
HIS EDUCATION AND HIS WRITINGS--HIS WILL--THE UNITED STATES HIS
RESIDUARY LEGATEE--SUCCESSFUL PROSECUTION OF THE CLAIM OF THE UNITED
STATES TO THE LEGACY--PLANS SUGGESTED FOR THE DISPOSAL OF THE FUND
--PROF. JOSEPH HENRY APPOINTED SECRETARY--BENEFICENT WORK OF THE
INSTITUTION.

Although a third of a century has passed since I met Professor
Joseph Henry, I distinctly recall his kindly greeting and the
courteous manner in which he gave me the information I requested
for the use of one of the Committees of the House.

The frosts of many winters were then on his brow, and he was near the
close of an honorable career, one of measureless benefit to mankind.
He was the first secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, and the
originator of the plan by which was carried into practical effect the
splendid bequest for "the increase and diffusion of knowledge among
men."

As Vice-President of the United States, a regent _ex-officio_ of
the Smithsonian Institution, I had rare opportunity to learn much of
its history and something of its marvellous accomplishment.  As is
well known, it bears the name of James Smithson.  He was an
Englishman, related to the historic family of Percy, and a
lineal descendent of Henry the Seventh, his maternal ancestor being
the ill-fated Lady Jane Grey, cousin to Queen Elizabeth.

Mr. Langley, the late secretary of the institution, said:

"Smithson always seems to have regarded the circumstances of his
birth as doing him a peculiar injustice, and it was apparently this
sense that he had been deprived of honors properly his which made him
look for other sources of fame than those which birth had denied
him, and constituted the motive of the most important action of
his life, the creation of the Smithsonian Institution."

The deep resentment of Smithson against the great families who had
virtually disowned him, finds vent in a letter yet extant, of which
the following is a part:  "The best blood of England flows in my
veins; on my father's side I am a Northumberland, on my mother's
I am related to kings; but this avails me not.  My name shall live
in the memory of man when the titles of the Northumberlands and
the Percys are extinct and forgotten."

How truly his indignant forecast was prophetic is now a matter
of history.  Few men know much about the once proud families of
Northumberland or Percy, but the name of the youth they scornfully
disowned lives in the institution he founded, the greatest
instrumentality yet devised for "the increase and diffusion of
knowledge among men."

Smithson was born in 1765, and received the degree of Master of
Arts from Pembroke College at the age of twenty-one.  A year later
he was admitted a Fellow of the Royal Society, upon the recommendation
of his instructors, as being "a gentleman well versed in the various
branches of Natural Philosophy, and particularly in Chemistry and
Mineralogy."  As a student, he was devoted to the study of the
sciences, especially chemistry, and his entire life, in fact,
was given to scientific research.  Twenty-seven papers from his
pen were published in "The Philosophical Transactions of the Royal
Society" and in "Thompson's Annals of Philosophy," near the close of
the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century, and
"all give evidence that he was an assiduous and faithful
experimenter."

In this connection, the statement of Professor Clarke, Chief Chemist
of the United States Geographical Survey, is in point:

"The most notable feature of Smithson's writings from the standpoint
of the analytical chemist, is the success obtained with the most
primitive and unsatisfactory appliances.  In Smithson's day, chemical
apparatus was undeveloped, and instruments were improvised from
such materials as lay readiest to hand.  With such instruments,
and with crude reagents, Smithson obtained analytical results of
the most creditable character, and enlarged our knowledge of
many mineral species.  In his time, the native carbonate and the
silicate of zinc were confounded as one species under the name
calamine; but his researches distinguished between the two minerals,
which are now known as Smithsonite and Calamine, respectively.

"To theory Smithson contributed little, if anything; but from a
theoretical point of view, the tone of his writings is singularly
modern.  His work was mostly done before Dalton had announced
the atomic theory; and yet Smithson saw clearly that a law of
definite proportions must exist, although he did not attempt to
account for it.  His ability as a reasoner is best shown in his
paper on the Kirkdale Bone Cave, which Penn had sought to interpret
by reference to the Noachian Deluge.  A clearer and more
complete demolition of Penn's views could hardly be written to-day.
Smithson was gentle with his adversary, but none the less thorough,
for all his moderation.  He is not to be classed among the leaders
of scientific thought; but his ability and the usefulness of his
contributions to knowledge, cannot be doubted."

The life of Smithson was uncheered by domestic affection; he was
of singularly retiring disposition, had no intimacies, spent the
closing years of his life in Paris, and was long the uncomplaining
victim of a painful malady.  Professor Langley said of him:

"One gathers from his letters, from the uniform consideration with
which he speaks of others, from kind traits which he showed, and
from the general tenor of what is not here particularly cited, the
remembrance of an innately gentle nature, but also of a man who is
gradually renouncing not without bitterness the youthful hope of
fame, and as health and hope diminished together, is finally living
for the day, rather than for any future."

He died in Genoa, Italy, June 27, 1829, and was buried in the little
English cemetery on the heights of San Benigno.  The Institution
he founded has placed a tablet over his tomb and surrounded it with
evidences of continued and thoughtful care.

His will--possibly of deeper concern to mankind than any yet written
--bears date October 23, 1826.  In its opening clause he designates
himself:  "Son of Hugh, First Duke of Northumberland, and Elizabeth,
heiress of the Hungerfords of Studley, and niece to Charles the
proud Duke of Somerset."  Herein clearly appears his undying
resentment toward those who had denied him the position in life to
which he considered himself justly entitled.

The only persons designated in his will as legatees are a faithful
servant, for whom abundant provision was made, and Henry James
Hungerford, nephew of the testator.  To the latter was devised the
entire estate except the legacy to the servant mentioned.  The
clause of the will which has given the name of Smithson to the ages
seems to have been almost casually inserted; it appears between
the provision for his servant and the one for an investment of the
funds.

The clause in his will which was to cause his name "to live in the
memory of man when the titles of the Northumberlands and the Percys
are extinct and forgotten," was,--

"In the case of the death of my said nephew without leaving a child
or children, or the death of the child or children he may have had
under the age of twenty-one years, or intestate, I then bequeath
the whole of my property subject to the annuity of one hundred
pounds to John Fitall (for the security and payment of which I have
made provision) to the United States of America, to found at
Washington, under the name of the Smithsonian Institution, an
establishment for the increase and diffusion of knowledge among
men."

Why he selected the United States as his residuary legatee has long
been, and will continue to be, the subject of curious inquiry.  He
had never been in America, had no correspondent here, and nowhere in
his writings has there been found an allusion to our country.
So far as we know, he could have had no possible prejudice in favor
of our system of representative government.

It is a singular fact, however, in this connection, that the pivotal
clause in his will bears striking resemblance to the admonition,
"Promote as an object of primary importance institutions for the
general diffusion of knowledge," contained in the farewell address
of President Washington.

The contingency provided for happened; the death of the nephew
Hungerford unmarried and without heirs occurred six years after
that of the testator.  The first announcement to the people of the
United States of the facts stated was contained in a special message
from President Jackson to Congress, December 17, 1835.  Accompanying
the message was a letter with a detailed statement, and copy of
the will, from our Legation in London.  In closing his brief message
of transmission, President Jackson says:  "The Executive having no
authority to take any steps for accepting the trust and obtaining the
funds, the papers are communicated with a view to such measures as
Congress may deem necessary."

On the first day of July, 1836, a bill authorizing the President
to assert and prosecute the claim of the United States to the
Smithson legacy became a law.  This, however, was after much
opposition in Congress; a member of the House indignantly declaring
that our Government should receive nothing by way of gift from
England, and proposing that the bequest should be denied.  The
prophetic words of the venerable John Quincy Adams--then a member of
the House after his retirement from the Presidency--in advocating
the passage of the bill are worthy of remembrance:

"Of all the foundations of establishments for pious or charitable uses
which ever signalized the spirit of the age, or the comprehensive
beneficence of the founders, none can be named more deserving the
approbation of mankind than this.  Should it be faithfully carried
into effect with an earnestness and sagacity of application and a
steady perseverance of purpose proportioned to the means furnished
by the will of the founder, and to the greatness and simplicity of
his design as by himself declared,--'the increase and diffusion of
knowledge among men,'--it is no extravagance of anticipation to declare
that his name will hereafter be enrolled among the benefactors of mankind."

In the execution of this law, the President immediately upon its
enactment appointed Richard Rush, a distinguished lawyer of
Philadelphia, to proceed to London, and take the necessary steps
to obtain the legacy.  To the accomplishment of this purpose a suit
was soon thereafter instituted by Mr. Rush.  The hopelessness of
its early termination in an English Chancery Court of that day will
at once occur to the readers of Dickens's famous "Jarndyce against
Jarndyce."  It was truly said, that a chancery suit was a thing
which might begin with a man's life, and its termination be his
epitaph.

A wiser selection than Mr. Rush could not have been made.  He
entered upon the work to which he had been appointed, with great
determination.  In a letter to our Secretary of State just after
he had instituted suit, he says:

"A suit of higher interest and dignity, has rarely perhaps been
before the tribunals of a nation.  If the trust created by the
testator's will be successfully carried into effect by the enlightened
legislation of Congress, benefits may flow to the United States,
and to the human family, not easy to be estimated, because operating
silently and gradually throughout time, yet not operating the less
effectually.  Not to speak of the inappreciable value of letters
to individual and social man, the monuments which they raise to
a nation's glory often last when others perish, and seem especially
appropriate to the glory of a Republic whose foundations are laid in
the assumed intelligence of its citizens, and can only be strengthened
and perpetuated as that improve."

The successful termination of the suit came, however, sooner
than could have been expected; and in May, 1838, the amount of the
legacy, exceeding the substantial sum of five hundred thousand
dollars, was received and invested as required by law.

The facts stated were communicated by special message from President
Van Buren to Congress, in December, 1838.  Attention was then called
to the fact that he had applied to persons versed in science,
for their views as to the mode of disposing of the fund which would
be calculated best to meet the intent of the testator, and prove
most beneficial to mankind.

During the eight years intervening between this message and the
passage of the bill for the incorporation of the Smithsonian
Institution, much discussion was had in and out of Congress, as to
the best method of making effective the intention of the testator.

In the light of events, some of the many plans suggested are even now
of curious interest.  The establishment of a magnificent national library
at the Capital; the founding of a great university; of a normal
school; a post graduate school; and astronomical observatory "equal
to any in the world," are a few of the plans from time to time
proposed and earnestly advocated.

The act of incorporation in 1846, the appointment of a Board of
Regents, and the selection of a Secretary, mark the beginning of
the Smithsonian Institution.  In the selection of a Secretary, the
chief officer of the institution, the regents builded better
than they knew.  The choice fell upon Professor Joseph Henry of
Princeton, then peerless among men of science in America.  The
appointment was accepted, and the essential features of the plan
of organization he proposed were adopted in December, 1847.
This plan recognized as

"Fundamental that the terms 'increase' and 'diffusion' should
receive literal interpretation in accordance with the evident
intention of the testator; that such terms being logically distinct,
the two purposes mentioned in the bequest were to be kept in view in
the organization of the institution; that the increase of knowledge
should be effected by the encouragement of original researches
of the highest character; and its diffusion by the publication
of the results of original research, by means of the publication
of a series of volumes of original memoirs; that the object of the
institution should not be restricted in favor of any particular
kind of knowledge; if to any, only to the higher and more abstract,
to the discovery of new principles rather than that of isolated
facts; that the institution should in no sense be national; that
the bequest was intended for the benefit of mankind in general,
and not for any single nation.

"The accumulation and care of collections of objects of nature and
art, the development of a library, the providing of courses of
lectures, and the organization of a system of meteorological
observation, were to be only incidental to the fundamental design of
increasing and diffusing knowledge among men."

In its inception, and in its widening influence during the passing
years, those entrusted with the actual management of this institution
have conscientiously kept in view the clearly expressed intention of
its founder.  Following the distinctive but parallel paths, "increase"
and "diffusion," the Smithsonian Institution, yet in its infancy, has
added largely to the sum of useful knowledge.  Its accredited
representatives are out upon every pathway of intelligent research
and discovery.  Under the wise operation of this marvellous
instrumentality, long-concealed secrets of nature have been
discovered, and it can hardly be doubted that all that is given to
man to know will yet be revealed, and it will be permitted him

  "To read what is still unread,
  In the manuscripts of God."

By indefatigable investigation, and by world-wide publication of
the results, mankind has indeed become, as was intended, the
beneficiary of the princely bequest.

More fitting words could not be selected with which to close
this sketch than those of the gifted and lamented Langley, whose
best years were given to scientific research, and whose name is
inseparably associated with the Smithsonian Institution:

"What has been done in these two paths the reader may partly gather
from this volume--in the former from the various articles by
contemporary men of science, describing its activities in research
and original contributions to the increase of human knowledge;
in the latter, in numerous way--among others from the description of
the work of one of its bureaux, that of the International Exchanges,
where it may be more immediately seen how universal is the scope
of the action of the Institution, which, in accordance with its
motto 'PER ORBEM,' is not limited to the country of its adoption, but
belongs to the world, there being outside of the United States more
than twelve thousand correspondents scattered through every portion
of the globe; indeed there is hardly a language, or a people, where
the results of Smithson's benefaction are not known, and associated
with his name.

"If we were permitted to think of him as conscious of what has
been, is being, and is still to be done, in pursuance of his wish,
we might believe that he would feel that his hope at a time when
life must have seemed so hopeless, was finding full fruition;
for events are justifying what may have seemed, at the time, but
a rhetorical expression, in the language of a former President of
the United States, who has said:  'Renowned as is the name of Percy
in the historical annals of England, let the trust of James Smithson
to the United States of America be faithfully executed, let the
result accomplish his object, the increase and diffusion of knowledge
among men, and a wreath more unfading shall entwine itself in
the lapse of future ages around the name of Smithson than the united
hands of history and poetry have braided around the name of
Percy through the long ages past.'"



XII
THE OLD RANGER

JOHN REYNOLDS, GOVERNOR OF ILLINOIS, A BORN POLITICIAN--HIS KNOWLEDGE
OF THE PEOPLE--HIS AFFECTATION OF HUMILITY--ADMITTED TO THE BAR
--HE CONDEMNS A MURDERER TO DEATH--HIS CURIOUS ADDRESS TO ANOTHER
MURDERER--BECOMES A MEMBER OF THE LEGISLATURE--ELECTED GOVERNOR
--HIS GENEROSITY TO HIS POLITICAL ENEMIES--BECOMES A MEMBER OF
CONGRESS--HIS ADMIRATION FOR HIS ASSOCIATES--ELECTED A MEMBER OF THE
GENERAL ASSEMBLY OF THE STATE--RETIRES TO PRIVATE LIFE.

This world of ours will be much older before the like of John
Reynolds, the fourth Governor of Illinois, again appears upon
its stage.  The title which he generously gave himself in early
manhood, upon his return after a brief experience as a trooper
in pursuit of a marauding band of Winnebagoes, stood him well in
hand in all his future contests for office.  "The Old Ranger" was a
_sobriquet_ to conjure with, and turned the scales in his favor in
many a doubtful contest.

The subject of this sketch was a born politician if ever one
trod this green earth.  He was a perennial candidate for office,
and it was said he never took a drink of water without serious
meditation as to how it might possibly affect his political prospects.
The late Uriah Heep might easily have gotten a few points in
"'umbleness," if he had accompanied the Old Ranger in one or two
of his political campaigns.

While Illinois was yet a Territory, his father had emigrated from the
mountains of Tennessee and located near the historic village of
Kaskaskia.  This was at the time the capital of the Territory.
The village mentioned was then the most, and in fact, the only,
important place in the vast area constituting the present State of
Illinois.  There were less than five thousand persons of all
nationalities and conditions in the Territory, and they mainly
in and about Kaskaskia, and southward to the Ohio.  Beck's Gazetteer
published in 1823--five years after the admission of the State into
the Union--contains the following:  "Chicago, a village of Pike
County, situated on Lake Michigan at the mouth of the Chicago Creek.
It contains twelve or fifteen houses, and about sixty or seventy
inhabitants."

The acquaintance of John Reynolds with what was then known as "the
Illinois Country" began in 1800, and his thorough knowledge of the
people and their ways gave him rare opportunities for acquiring
great personal popularity.  Fairly well educated for the times,
gifted with an abundance of shrewdness, and withal an excellent
judge of human nature, he soon became a man of mark in the new
country.  He was at all times and under all circumstances the
self-constituted "friend of the people."  He affected to be one of
the humblest of the sons of men; and his dress, language, and
deportment were always in strict keeping with that assumption.  For
the pride of ancestry he had a supreme contempt.  In his "My Own
Times," published a few years before his death, he said:  "I regard
the whole subject of ancestry and descent as utterly frivolous and
unworthy of a moment's serious attention."

This recalls what Judge Baldwin said of Cave Burton:

"He was not clearly satisfied that Esau made as foolish a bargain with
his brother Jacob as some think.  If the birth-right was _a mere
matter of family pride,_ and the pottage of agreeable taste, Cave was
not quite sure that Esau had not gotten the advantage in his famed
bargain with the Father of Israel."

Humility was Reynolds's highest card, and when out among the people
he was always figuratively clothed in sackcloth and ashes.  A
few extracts from his book may be of interest:

"I was a singular spectacle when in 1809 I started to Tennessee to
college.  I looked like a trapper going to the Rocky Mountains.
I wore a cream-colored hat made of the fur of the prairie wolf,
which gave me a grotesque appearance.  I was well acquainted with the
mysteries of horse and foot races, shooting matches, and other wild
sports of the backwoods, but had not studied the polish of the
ball-room and was sorely beset with diffidence, awkwardness, and
poverty."

Later, and when out in pursuit of the Indians, he said:  "But
diffidence never permitted me to approach an officer's tent, or
solicit any one for office."

None the less, the office of Orderly Sergeant being thrust upon
him, he managed in his humble way to get through with it
passably well.

When the State Government was organized in 1818, while shrinking
from even the gaze of men, and spurning from the depths of his soul
the arts of politicians, he managed in some way to be designated
one of the judges of the Supreme Court of the new State.  His
admiration for the dispensing hand appears as follows:  "Wisdom
and integrity, with other noble qualities, gave Governor Bond a
high standing with his contemporaries.  Wisdom and integrity shed a
beacon light around his path through life, showing him to be one
of the noblest works of God."

Four years prior to this appointment, he had been admitted to
the bar, after "undergoing with much diffidence" his examination.
This accomplished, he adds:  "In the Winter of 1814, I established
a very humble and obscure law-office in the French village of
Cahokia, the county seat of St. Clair County."  The bearing of the
one whose meat was locusts and wild honey, and whose loins were
girt about with a leathern girdle, was arrogance itself, when
compared with the deportment of the later John in the wilderness
at the period whereof we write.

That he was orthodox upon what pertained to medical practice will now
appear:  "It was the universal practice to give the patient of the
bilious disease, first, tartar emetic; next day, calomel and jalap;
and the third day, Peruvian bark.  This was generally sufficient."
The latter statement will hardly be questioned.

How his first visitation of the tender passion was mingled with
a relish of philosophy is recorded for the benefit of posterity:

"During all my previous life until within a short time before I
married, I had not the least intention of that state of existence,
and I expressed myself often to my friends to the same effect; but
on the subject of matrimony, a passion influences the parties which
generally succeeds.  Judgment and prudence should be mixed in
equal parts with love and affection in the transaction, to secure a
lasting and happy union."

With all his diffidence, however, the Old Ranger happened to turn up
at the seat of Government in time "to be persuaded by my friends
to be a candidate for a Judgeship.  It broke in on me like a clap of
thunder."  The mite of philosophy with which he excused himself
for giving way to the urgent demand of his friends is as follows:
"Human nature is easier to persuade to mount upwards than to remain
on the common level."

His mind, as will appear, was essentially of the strictly practical
cast.  He no doubt believed with Macaulay that "one acre in Middlesex
is worth a principality in Utopia."

That the Republican simplicity of the new Judge followed him from his
"very humble and obscure law-office" to the Bench, will now appear:

"The very first court I held was in Washington County, and it was to
me a strange and novel business.  I was amongst old comrades
with whom I had been raised, ranged in the war with them, and lived
with them in great intimacy and equality, so that it was difficult
to assume a different relationship than I had previously occupied with
them.  Moreover I detested a mock dignity.  Both the sheriff and
clerk were rangers in the same company with myself, and it seemed we
were still ranging on equal terms in pursuit of the Indians.
The sheriff was of the same opinion and very familiar.  He opened court
sitting astride on a bench in the Court-house, and without rising,
proclaimed:  'The court is now open, and our John is on the bench.'"

It may here be mentioned that the first case of importance that
came before Judge Reynolds, was the trial of one William Bennett
for murder.  He had killed his antagonist in a duel in St. Clair
County, for which he suffered the death penalty.  This is the only
duel ever fought in Illinois.  No doubt the prompt execution of
Bennett did much to discourage duelling in the State.

In reply to the charge that he had acted with unbecoming levity
upon the trial of Bennett, the Judge said, "No human being of my
humble capacity could have acted with more painful feelings and
sympathy than did I on this occasion."  Having thus vindicated
himself from the serious charge mentioned, he adds:

"I am opposed to capital punishment in any case where the convict can
be kept in solitary confinement without pardoning his life; it was
extremely painful and awful to me to be the instrument in the hands
of the law to pronounce sentence of death upon my fellow-man,
extinguishing him forever from the face of the earth, and depriving
him of life, which I think belongs to God and not to man."

He consoles himself, however, as he closes his narrative of this
sad affair, that "it never did assume the character of a regular
and honorable duel."  It is very satisfactory also, even at this
distant date, to be assured by the Judge that "the prisoner embraced
religion, was baptized, and died happy, before spectators to the
number of two thousand or more."

Governor Ford, in his history of Illinois, relates the following
incident as characteristic of Judge Reynolds.  The latter was
holding court in Washington County when one Green was found guilty
upon an indictment for murder.  The court was near the hour of
adjournment for the term, when the prosecuting attorney suggested to
the court that the prisoner Green be brought in in order that
sentence be passed upon him.  "Certainly, certainly," said the
Judge, and the prisoner was at once brought in from the jail
near by.

"Mr. Green," said the Judge in a familiar tone, "the jury in
your case have found you guilty.  I want you to understand, Mr.
Green, and all your friends down on Indian Creek to know, that
it is not I who condemns you, but the jury and the law.  The law
allows you time for preparation, Mr. Green; and so the court wants
to know what time it would suit you to be hung?"  The prisoner
replying that he was ready to suffer at whatever time the court
might appoint, the Judge said;

"Mr. Green, you must know that it is a very serious matter to be
hung.  It can't happen to a man more than once in his life, and
you had better take all the time you can get; the court will give you
till this day four weeks.  Mr. Clerk, look at the almanac and see if
this day four weeks comes on Sunday."  The Clerk after examination
reported that that day four weeks came on Friday.  The Judge then
said:  "Mr. Green, the court gives you till this day four weeks,
and then you are to be hanged."

Whereupon the prosecuting officer, the Hon. James Turney, an able and
dignified lawyer, said:

"May it please the court, on solemn occasion like the present, when
the life of a human being is to be sentenced away for crime by
an earthly tribunal, it is usual and proper for courts to pronounce
a formal sentence, in which the leading features of the crime shall
be brought to the recollection of the prisoner, a sense of his
guilt impressed upon his conscience, and in which the prisoner
should be duly exhorted to repentance and warned against the judgment
in a world to come."

To which the Judge replied:  "Oh, Mr. Turney, Mr. Green understands
the whole matter as well as if I had preached to him a month.
He knows he has got to be hung this day four weeks.  You understand
it that way, Mr. Green, don't you?"

"Yes," said the prisoner, upon which the Judge again expressing
the hope that he and all his friends down on Indian Creek would
understand that it was the act of the jury and of the law, _and
not of the Judge,_ ordered the prisoner to be remanded to jail,
and the court adjourned for the term.

For some reason, by no means satisfactorily explained, Judge Reynolds
retired from the bench at the end of his four years' term.  In
"Breese," the first volume of Illinois reports, is an opinion by
Judge Reynolds which has been the subject of amusing comment by
three generations of lawyers.  After giving sundry reasons why
there was error in the judgment below, the learned Judge concludes:
"Therefore, the judgment _ought to be_ reversed; but inasmuch as
the court is equally divided in opinion, it is therefore
_affirmed."_

He then resumed the practice of the law, and as he says, "was
familiar with the people, got acquainted with everybody, and became
somewhat popular.  I had no settled object in view other than to
make a living, and to continue on my humble, peaceable, and agreeable
manner."  In view of the aversion already shown to office-holding,
the following disclaimer upon the part of the Judge seems wholly
superfluous:  "I had no political ambition or aspirations for office
whatever."

It is gratifying to know that at this time his domestic affairs
were in a satisfactory condition:  "Plain and unpretending; never kept
any liquor in the house--treated my friends to every civility except
liquor; used an economy bordering on parsimony."

Under the favorable conditions mentioned, the Judge was enabled to
overcome his aversion to holding office, and became a humble member
of the State Legislature immediately upon his retirement from
the bench.  That his "modest aspirations" were on a higher plane
than that of ordinary legislators will clearly appear from the
following:  "I entered this Legislature without any ulterior views,
and with an eye single to advance the best interests of the State,
and particularly the welfare of old St. Clair County.  My only
ambition was to acquit myself properly, and to advance the best
interests of the country."

Two years later, the aversion of the Old Ranger for office was
again overcome, as will appear from the following:  "I entered this
Legislature, as I had the last, without any pledge or restraints
whatever; I then was, and am yet, only an humble member of the
Democratic party."

His friends were again on the war-path and the shadow of the chief
executive office of the State was now beginning to fall across his
pathway.  He says:

"It would require volumes to record the transactions of these
Legislatures, and of my humble labors in them; but it was my course
of conduct in these two sessions of the General Assembly that
induced my friends, _without any solicitation on my part,_ to offer
me as a candidate for Governor.  I was urged not by politicians,
but by reasonable and reflecting men, more to advance the interest
of the State than my own."

If we did not, from his own lips, know how the Judge loathed
"the arts of politicians," we might almost be tempted to conclude from
the following that he was one of them:

"I traversed every section of the State, and knew well the people.
My friends had the utmost confidence in my knowledge of the people,
and when I suggested any policy to be observed, this suggestion
was consequently carried out as I requested--thus placing all under
one leader."

This, it will be remembered, was in 1830, and neither Reynolds nor
Kinney, his competitor, had received a party nomination.  Both were
of the same party, Kinney being a strong Jackson man of the
ultra type, and the Judge only a "plain, humble, reflecting Jackson
man."

At one time during the campaign it seemed as if there were real
danger of this candidate of the "reflecting men of the State"
actually falling into the ways and wiles of politicians.  "I often
addressed the people in churches, in courthouses, and in the
open air, myself occupying literally the stump of a large tree;
_at times also in a grocery."_

The fiery and abusive hand-bills against his competitor he did not
attempt to restrain his friends from circulating, "as they had a
right to exercise their own judgment"; but he declares he did
not circulate one himself.  He moreover felicitates himself upon
the fact that his conciliatory course gained him votes.

This noted contest lasted eighteen months, as Reynolds says, and, the
State being sparsely populated, he enjoyed the personal acquaintance
of almost every voter.  The fact, as he further states, that his
opponent was a clergyman, was a great drawback to him, and almost all
the Christian sects, except his own--the anti-missionary Baptists--
opposed him.  With a candor that does him credit, the Judge admits
"the support of the religious people was not so much _for me,_ but
_against him."_

No national issues were discussed, but one point urged by Kinney
against the proposed Michigan canal was, "that it would flood
the country with Yankees."  It would be a great mistake to suppose
that Reynolds himself wholly escaped vituperation.  On the contrary,
he claims the credit of being "the best abused man in the State."
He relates that one of the stories told on him was, "that I saw
a scarecrow, the effigy of a man in a corn-field, just at dusk,
and that I said, 'How are you, my friend?  Won't you take some of
my hand bills to distribute?'"

Some light is shed on the politics of the good old days of our
fathers by the following:  "The party rancor in the campaign raged
so high that neighborhoods fell out with one another, and the angry
and bitter feelings entered into the common transactions of life."

If the contest had lasted a year or two longer it is not improbably
that our candidate would have fallen from his high "reflecting"
state to the low level of artful politician.  "It was the universal
custom of the times to treat with liquor.  We both did it; but
he was condemned for it more than myself by the religious community,
_he being a preacher of the Gospel."_

Some atonement, however, is made for the bad whiskey our model
candidate dispensed by the noble sentiment with which he closes
this chapter of his contest:  "I was, and am yet, one of the people,
and every pulsation of our hearts beats in unison."

Having been elected by a considerable majority as he modestly
remarks, our Governor-elect falls into something of a philosophical
train of thought, and horror of politicians and their wiles and
ways again possessed him.  He says:

"It may be considered vanity and frailty in me, but when I was
elected Governor of the State on fair, honorable principles by the
masses, without intrigue or management of party or corrupt politicians,
I deemed it the decided approbation of my countrymen, and consequently
a great honor."

The admonition of this sage statesman to the rising generation upon
the subject of office-seeking, is worthy of profound consideration:

"But were I to live over again another life, I think I would have the
moral courage to refrain from aspiring for any office within the
gift of the people.  By no means do I believe a person should be
sordid and selfish in all his actions, yet cannot a person be more
useful to the public if he possesses talents in other situations
than in office?"

Some memory of the well-known ingratitude of republics evidently
entered like iron into his very soul when his memoirs were written:

"Moreover, a public officer may toil and labor all his best days
with the utmost fidelity and patriotism, and the masses who reap
the reward of his labors frequently permit him, without any particular
fault upon his part, to live and die in his old age with disrespect.
Witness the punishment inflicted on Socrates, on our Saviour,
and many others for no crime whatever.  But this contumely and
disrespect ought not to deter _a good and qualified man_ from
entering the public service, if he is satisfied that the good of
the country requires it."

At this point in the career of this eminent public servant, deep
sympathy is aroused on account of the conflict between his humility
and a not very clearly-defined belief that something was due to
the great office to which he had been elevated.  As preliminary,
however, to accomplishing what was for the best interests of the
people it must not be forgotten that "my first object was to soften
down the public mind to its sober senses."  That no living man was
better qualified for the accomplishment of so praiseworthy a purpose
will now appear:  "It has been my opinion of my humble self,
that whatever small forte I might possess was to conciliate and
soften down a turbulent and furious people."

This being all satisfactorily accomplished and the abundant reward
of the peacemaker in sure keeping for this humble instrument,
his efforts were now directed toward the discharge of the duties
of the office to which he had so unexpectedly been called.

That this hitherto unquestioned "friend of the people" was now
manifesting a slight tendency toward the frailties and vanities of
the common run of men, will appear from the following:

"It was my nature not to feel or appear elevated, but I discovered
that my appearance and deportment, at times, might look like affected
humility or mock modesty, which I sincerely despised, and then
_I would straighten up a little."_

It may be truly said of Reynolds, as Macaulay said of Horace Walpole:
"The conformation of his mind was such that whatever was little
seemed to him great; and whatever was great, seemed to him little."

Having in his inaugural given expression to the noble sentiment
that "proscription for opinion's sake is the worst enemy to the
Republic," he at once generously dispelled whatever apprehensions his
late opponents might feel as to what was to befall them, by the
assurance:  "Therefore, all those who honestly and honorably
supported my respectable opponent in the last election for Governor
shall experience from me no inconvenience on that account."
Unfortunately no light is shed upon the interesting inquiry as
to what "inconvenience" was experienced by those who had otherwise
than "honestly and honorably" supported his respectable opponent
in the late contest.

The Black Hawk War was the principal event of the administration
of Governor Reynolds.  A treaty of peace being concluded, the
Indians were removed beyond the Mississippi River.  In all this
the Governor acquitted himself with credit.

That his aversion to office-holding was in some measure lessening,
will appear from the following:

"Being in the office of Governor for some years, I was prevented
from the practice of the law, and in the meantime had been engaged
in public life until it commenced _to be a kind of second nature
to me._  Moreover, I was then young, ardent, and ambitious, so that
I really thought it was right for me to offer for Congress; and
I did so, in the Spring of 1834."

An "artful politician" would probably have waited until the expiration
of his term as Governor.  Not so with this "friend of the people."
He was not only elected to the next Congress, but the death of the
sitting member for the District creating a vacancy, Reynolds was
of course elected to that also, and was thus at one time Governor of
the State and member elect both to the next and to the present
Congress.

His triumph over his "able and worthy competitor" is accounted for
in this wise:  "I was myself tolerably well informed in the science
of electioneering with the masses of the people.  I was raised with
the people, and was literally one of them.  We always acted together,
and our common instincts, feelings and interests were the same."
He here modestly ventured the opinion that his "efforts on the
stump, while _making no pretension to classic eloquence,_ yet
flowing naturally from the heart, supplied in them many defects."

A mite of self-approval, tinged with a philosophy which appears to
have been always kept on tap, closes this chapter of his remarkable
career.  He says:

"I sincerely state that I never regarded as important the salary
of the office, but I entered public office with a sincere desire
to advance the best interest of the country, which was my main
reward.  If a person would subdue his ambition for office and remain
a private citizen, he would be a more happy man."

That he must have been the most miserable of men, during the greater
part of his long life, clearly appears from the following:  "There
is no person happy who is in public office, or a candidate for
office."

A more extensive field of usefulness now opened up to the Old Ranger
as he took his seat in Congress.  He had many projects in mind for
the benefit of the people--one, the reduction of the price of
the public lands to actual settlers; another, the improvement of
our Western rivers.  But like many other members both before and
since his day, he found that "these things were easier to talk
about on the stump than to do."  He candidly admits:  "This body was
much greater than I had supposed, and I could effect much less than
I had contemplated."

He informs us that he felt like a country boy just from home the
first time, as he entered the hall of the law-makers of the
great Republic.  The city of Washington, grand and imposing,
impressed him deeply, but was as the dust in the balance to "the
assemblage of great men at the seat of Government of the United
States, and at the opening of Congress, when a grand and really
imposing spectacle was presented."

His profound admiration for some of his associates upon the broader
theatre of the public service found vent in the following eloquent
words:

"When the Roman Empire reached the highest pinnacle of literary
fame and political power in the reign of Augustus Caesar, the period
was called the Augustan age.  There was a period that existed
eminently in the Jackson administration and a few years after that
might be called the Augustan age of Congress.  So extraordinary
a constellation of great and distinguished individuals may never
again appear in office at the seat of government."

If apology were needed for the new members' exalted opinion of his
associates, it can readily be found in the fact that among them in
the House were John Quincy Adams, John Bell, Thomas F. Marshall,
Ben Hardin, James K. Polk, Millard Fillmore, and Franklin Pierce.
The first named had been President of the United States, and the
last three were yet to hold that great office.  At the same time
"the constellation of great stars" that almost appalled the Illinois
member upon his introduction included, in the Senate, Crittenden, Wright,
Cass, Woodbury, Preston, Buchanan, Grundy, Benton, Clay, Calhoun, and
Webster.

On finally taking leave of Congress, our member congratulates
himself that during seven years of service he was absent from
his seat but a single day.  That all his humble endeavors were
in the interest of the people, of course, goes without saying.  He
deprecates in strong terms the extravagance of some members of
Congress in allowing their expenses to exceed their salaries,
and then leaving the capital in debt.  That he did nothing of
the kind, but practised economy in all his expenses, it is
hardly necessary to state.  He is not, however, entitled to a patent
for the discovery that "the expenses for living at the seat of
Government of the United States are heavy."

Being a widower, conditions were now favorable for a little romance
to be mingled with the dull cares of state.  Near the close of his
last term, he says:  "I became acquainted with a lady in the District
of Columbia, and we, in consideration of mutual love and affection,
married.  The same tie binds us in matrimonial happiness to the
present time."  He here admits a fact that might at this later day
subject him to Executive displeasure:  "Posterity will have an
unsettled account against us for having _added nothing to the great
reservoir of the human family."_

It may be of interest to know that while in Congress our member
humbly accepted the appointment tendered him by Governor Carlin as
Commissioner to negotiate the Illinois and Michigan Canal bonds.
His earnest desire to have some one else appointed availed nothing,
and in the interest of the great enterprise, upon the success of
which the future of the State seemed to hang, he spent the summer of
1839 in Europe.  While his mission abroad was fruitless as to
its immediate object, it is gratifying to know that our commissioner
returned duly impressed with "the immense superiority in every
possible manner of our own country, and all its glorious institutions,
over those of the monarchies of the old world."

It would be idle to suppose that the retirement of the Old Ranger from
Congress was to terminate his career of usefulness to the people.
On the contrary, he says:  "In 1846, I was elected a member from
St. Clair County to the General Assembly of the State.  The main
object of myself and friends was to obtain a charter for a macadamized
road from Belleville to the Mississippi River, opposite St. Louis."

This all satisfactorily accomplished, and the Legislature adjourned,
"I turned my time and attention to the calm and quiet of life.
With my choice library of one thousand volumes I indulged in the
study of science and literature.  I soon discovered that the bustle
and turmoil of political life did not produce happiness."

Sad to relate, this faithful public servant, worn with the cares
of state, was not even yet permitted to lay aside his armor.
The happiness of private life, for which his soul yearned as the
hart panteth for the water brooks, was again postponed for the
hated bustle and turmoil of politics.  In 1852, against his
remonstrances, he was again elected to the Legislature, and upon
the organization of the House unanimously chosen Speaker.

Reluctantly indeed, we now take leave of John Reynolds--the quaintest
of all the odd characters this country of ours has known.  In doing
so, it is indeed a comfort to know that, true as the needle to the
pole, his great heart continued to beat in unison with that of the
people.  Ascending the Speaker's stand, and lifting the gavel, with
deep emotion he said--and these are to us his last words:  "I have
nothing to labor for but the public good.  My life has been devoted
to promote the public interest of Illinois, and in my latter days it
will afford me profound pleasure to advance now, as I have always done
in the past, _the best interests of the people."_



XIII
THE MORMON EXODUS FROM ILLINOIS

DELEGATE CANNON AND SENATOR CANNON, MORMONS--SKETCH OF MORMONISM
BY GOVERNOR FORD--JOSEPH SMITH'S OWN ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN OF
HIS CHURCH--HOW "THE BOOK OF MORMON" WAS MADE--NAUVOO, "THE HOLY
CITY"--EFFORTS OF WHIGS AND DEMOCRATS TO WIN THE VOTES OF THE
MORMONS--VICTORY OF THE DEMOCRATS, AND CONSEQUENT ANTI-MORMONISM
OF THE WHIGS--JOSEPH SMITH'S PRETENSIONS TO ROYALTY--THE ORIGIN OF
POLYGAMY IN THE MORMON CHURCH--CONFLICT WITH THE STATE AUTHORITIES
--SURRENDER OF THE LEADERS--ASSASSINATION OF SMITH--BRIGHAM
YOUNG CHOSEN AS HIS SUCCESSOR--THE EXODUS BEGINS.

Just across the aisle from my seat in the House of Representatives
during the forty-sixth Congress sat George Q. Cannon, the delegate
from the Territory of Utah.  He held this position for many years,
and possessed in the highest degree the confidence of the Mormon
people.  Fifteen years later, when presiding over the Senate, I
administered the oath of office to his son, the Hon. Frank J.
Cannon, the first chosen to represent the State of Utah in the Upper
Chamber of the National Congress.  Senator Cannon was then in high
favor with "the powers that be" in Salt Lake City, but for some
cause not well understood by the Gentile world, is now _persona
non grata_ with the head of the Mormon Church.  The younger Cannon
was not a polygamist, and no objection was urged to his being seated
upon the presentation of his credentials as a Senator.  His father,
the delegate, was in theory a polygamist, and had "the courage
of his convictions" to the extent of being the husband of five
wives, and the head of as many separate households.  This,
before the days of "unfriendly legislation," was, in Mormon
parlance, called "living your religion."

The delegate and the Senator were both men of ability, and possessed
in large degree the respect of their associates.  The former was
in early youth a resident of Illinois, and was of the advance guard
of the Mormon exodus to the valley of the Great Salt Lake soon
after the assassination of the "prophet."  When I first visited
Salt Lake City, in 1879, George Q. Cannon, in addition to being
the delegate in Congress, was one of the "Quorum of the Twelve,"
and was in the line of succession to the presidency of the Church.
From him I learned much that was of interest concerning the history
and tenets of the Mormon people.  The venerable John Taylor was
then the president of the Church, the immediate successor of Brigham
Young.  He was in early life a resident with his people in Nauvoo,
Illinois, and was a prisoner in the Carthage jail with the "Prophet
Joseph" at the time of his assassination, in 1844.  President Taylor
gave me a graphic description of that now historic tragedy, and of
his own narrow escape from the fate of his idolized leader.

A brief notice of this singular people, and of what they did and
suffered in Illinois, may not be wholly without interest.  Mormonism
was the apple of discord in the State during almost the entire
official term of the late Governor Ford.  More than one little army
was, during that period, sent into Hancock County--"the Mormon
country"--to suppress disturbances and maintain public order.

Governor Ford says:

"The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, as this organization
is denominated by its adherents, is to be viewed from the antagonistic
Gentile and Mormon standpoints.

"Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormon Church and its prophet,
was born in Vermont, in 1805, of obscure parentage.  His early
education was extremely limited.  When he first began to act the
prophet, he was ignorant of almost everything which pertained to
science; but he made up in natural cunning for many deficiencies
of education.  At the age of ten, he was taken by his father to
Wayne County, New York, where his youth was spent in an idle,
vagabond life, roaming the woods, dreaming of buried treasures,
and exerting himself to find them by the twisting of a forked stick
in his hands, or by looking through enchanted stones.  He and
his father were 'water witchers,' always ready to point out the
exact points where wells could be successfully dug.  While leading
an idle, profligate life, Joseph Smith became acquainted with Sidney
Rigdon, a man of talents and great plausibility.  Rigdon was the
possessor of a religious romance written some years before by a
Presbyterian clergyman.  The perusal of this book suggested to
Smith and Rigdon the idea of starting a new religion.  By them a
story was accordingly devised to the effect that golden plates had
been found buried near Palmyra, New York, containing a record
inscribed on them in unknown characters, which, when deciphered by
the power of inspiration, gave the history of the ten lost tribes of
Israel in their wanderings through Asia into America, where they
had settled and flourished, and where, in due time, Christ came
and preached the Gospel to them, appointed his twelve Apostles,
and was crucified here, nearly in the same manner he had been in
Jerusalem.  The record then pretended to give the history of the
American Christians for a few hundred years until the wickedness
of the people called down the judgment of God upon them, which
resulted in their extermination.  Several nations from the Isthmus
of Darien to the northern extremity of the continent were engaged in
continual warfare.  The culmination of all this was the battle
of Cumorah, fought many centuries ago near the present site of
Palmyra, between the Lamanites and the Nephites--the former being the
heathen and the latter the Christians of this continent.  In
this battle, in which hundreds of thousands were slain, the Nephites
perished from the earth, except a remnant, who escaped to the
southern country.  Among this number was Mormon, a righteous man
who was divinely directed to make a record of these important events
on plates of gold, and who buried them in the earth, to be
discovered in future times.  'The Book of Mormon'--none other than
the religious romance above mentioned--is the pretended translation
of the hieroglyphics said to have been inscribed on the golden
plates.

"The account given of himself by the 'prophet' is of far different
tenor from the one just given.  While yet a youth he became greatly
concerned in regard to his soul's salvation; and being deeply
agonized in spirit, he sought divine guidance.  While fervently
engaged in supplication, his mind was taken away from the surrounding
objects and enwrapped in a heavenly vision, and he saw two glorious
personages similar in form and features and surrounded with a
brilliant light, outshining the sun at noonday.  He was then informed
by these glorious personages that all religious denominations were
in error, and were not acknowledged of God as His church and kingdom,
and that he, Joseph, was expressly commanded not to go after them.
At the same time, he received a promise that the fulness of the
Gospel should at some future time be known to him."

Subsequently, on the evening of September 23, 1823, at the hour of
six, while he was engaged in prayer, suddenly a light like that of
day, only far more pure and glorious, burst into the room, as though
the house were filled with fire, and a personage stood before
him surrounded with a glory far greater than he had yet seen.  This
messenger proclaimed himself to be an angel of God, sent with
the joyful tidings that the covenant which God had made with ancient
Israel was about to be fulfilled; that the preparatory work for
the second coming of Messiah was speedily to commence; that the
time was at hand for the Gospel to be proclaimed in all its fulness
and power to all nations, to the end that a peculiar people might
be prepared for the millennial reign.  He was further informed that
he, Joseph, was to be the instrument in God's hand to bring about this
glorious dispensation.  The angel also informed him in regard to
the American Indians, who they were, and whence they came, with
a sketch of their origin, progress, civilization, righteousness,
and iniquity, and why the blessing of God had been withdrawn
from them as a people.  He was also told where certain plates were
deposited, whereon were engraved the records of the ancient prophets,
who once existed on this continent.  And then, to wit, on the last
day mentioned, the angel of the Lord delivered into his hands the
records mentioned, which were engraved on plates which had the
appearance of gold.  They were filled with engravings in
Egyptian characters and bound together in a volume as the leaves
of a book; with the records was found a curious instrument which
the ancients called "Urim and Thummim," which consisted of two
transparent stones set in the rim of a bow fastened to a breastplate.
By the instrumentality of the Urim and Thummim, Joseph was enabled
to translate the hieroglyphics aforementioned.

Thus translated, the records mentioned became "The Book of Mormon."
The last of the ancient prophets had inscribed these records upon the
golden plates by the command of God, and deposited them in the
earth, where, fifteen centuries later, they were divinely revealed
to Joseph Smith.

It is not pretended that the golden plates are still in existence,
but that after being translated by Joseph Smith, by the aid of the
wonderful instrument mentioned, they were re-delivered to the angel.
The non-production of the plates thus satisfactorily explained,
and secondary evidence being admissible, eleven witnesses appeared
and testified to having actually seen the plates; three of the
number further declaring that they were present when Joseph received
the plates at the hands of the angel.

Upon my giving expression, to a high Mormon official, of some
lingering doubts as to the absolute authenticity of the above
narrative, I was significantly reminded of the words of the immortal
bard:

  "Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
  Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear."

At all events, upon the pretended revelations mentioned, Joseph
Smith as "prophet" founded the Church of the Latter-Day Saints,
near Palmyra, New York, in 1830.  Nor did he lack for followers.
The eleven witnesses mentioned, and others, were commissioned
and sent forth to proclaim the new gospel, and disciples in
large numbers soon flocked to the standard of the "prophet."

The history of delusions from the days of Mahomet to the present
time illustrates the eagerness with which men are ever ready to
seek out new inventions and to discard the old beliefs for the new.
There is no tenet so monstrous but in some breast it will find
lodgment.

  "In religion
  What damned error, but some sober brow
  Will bless it and approve it with a text."

In 1833, Mormon colonies were established at Kirtland, Ohio, and
in Jackson County, Missouri, but, owing to Gentile persecution,
the "saints" at length shook the dust of those unhallowed localities
from their feet, and settled in large numbers in Hancock County,
Illinois.  Here they built Nauvoo, the "Holy City," "the beautiful
habitation for man."  The Mormon historian says:  "The surrounding
lands were purchased by the saints, and a town laid out, which was
named 'Nauvoo' from the Hebrew, which signifies fair, very beautiful,
and it actually fills the definition of the words, for nature
has not formed a parallel anywhere on the banks of the Mississippi."

The sacred city, as it was called, soon contained a population
of fifteen thousand souls, gathered from all quarters of the globe.
Here were built the home of the prophet, the hall of the seventies,
a concert hall, and other public institutions.  Chief among
these buildings was the Temple, described by the same historian as
"glistening in white limestone upon the hilltops, a shrine in
the wilderness whereat all the nations of the earth may worship,
whereat all the people may inquire of God and receive His holy
oracles."

This temple, erected at a cost of nearly a million dollars, was at
a later day visited by Governor Reynolds, and is thus described by
him:

"I was in the Mormon temple at Nauvoo.  It was a large and splendid
edifice, built in the Egyptian style of architecture; and its
grandeur and magnificence truly astonished me.  It was erected
on the top of the Mississippi bluff, which has a prospect which
reached as far as the eye could extend over the country and up and
down the river.  The most singular appendage of this splendid
edifice was the font in which the immersion of the saints was
practised.  It was composed of marble."

At the time of the Mormon emigration to Illinois, in 1839, the Whig
and Democratic parties in the State were in a heated struggle
for supremacy.  The respective party leaders at once realized that
the new importation of voters might be the controlling political
factor in the State.  To conciliate the Mormons and gain their
support soon became the aim of the politicians.  This fact is
the keynote to the statement of Governor Ford:

"A city charter drawn up to suit the Mormons was presented to
the Legislature.  No one opposed it, but both parties were active in
getting it through.  This charter, and others passed in the same
manner, incorporated Nauvoo, provided for the election of a mayor,
four aldermen, and nine councillors, and gave them power to pass
all ordinances necessary for the benefit of the city which were
not repugnant to the Constitution.  This seemed to give them power
to pass ordinances in violation of the laws of the State, and to
erect a system of government for themselves.  This charter also
incorporated the Nauvoo Legion,--entirely independent of the military
organization of the State, and not subject to the commands of
its officers.  Provision was also made for a court-martial for the
Legion, to be composed of its own officers; and in the exercise of
their duties they were not bound to regard the laws of the State.
Thus it was proposed to establish for the Mormons a Government
within a Government, a Legislature with power to pass ordinances
at war with the laws of the State.  These charters were unheard
of, anti-republican and capable of infinite abuse.  The great law of
the separation of the powers of government was wholly disregarded.
The mayor was at once the executive power, the judiciary, and part
of the Legislature.  One would have thought that these charters
stood a poor chance of passing the Legislature of a republican
people, jealous of their liberties, nevertheless they did pass both
Houses unanimously.  Each party was afraid to object to them,
for fear of losing the Mormon vote."

Some indications of the hopes and fears of party leaders may be
gleaned from the statement of the politic John Reynolds, then a
representative in Congress.  He thus speaks of the visit of Joseph
Smith to the national capital:

"I had recently received letters that Smith was a very important
character in Illinois, and to give him the civilities that were
due him.  He stood at the time fair and honorable, except his
fanaticism on religion.  The sympathies of the people were in
his favor.  It fell to my lot to introduce him to the President,
and one morning the Prophet Smith and I called at the White House to
see the chief magistrate.  When we were about to enter the apartments
of President Van Buren, the prophet asked me to introduce him as
a Latter-day Saint.  It was so unexpected and so strange to me that
I could scarcely believe he would urge such nonsense on this occasion
to the President.  But he repeated the request, and I introduced
him as a Latter-day Saint, which made the President smile.  The
Prophet remained in Washington a greater part of the winter, and
preached often.  I became well acquainted with him.  He was a person
rather larger than ordinary stature, well proportioned, and
would weigh about one hundred and eighty pounds.  He was rather
fleshy, but was in his appearance, amiable and benevolent.  He did
not appear to possess barbarity in his nature, nor to possess that
great talent and boundless mind that would enable him to accomplish
the wonders he performed."

Referring again to the narrative of Ford:

"Joseph Smith was duly installed Mayor of Nauvoo--this _Imperium
in Imperio_--he was _ex-officio_ Judge of the Mayor's court, and
Chief Justice of the Municipal court; and in this capacity he was to
interpret the laws he had assisted to make.  The Nauvoo Legion was
organized with a multitude of high officers.  It was divided
into divisions, brigades, cohorts, battalions, and companies;
and Joseph Smith as Lieutenant-General was the Commander-in-Chief.
The common council of Nauvoo passed many ordinances for the punishment
of crime.  The punishment was generally different from, and much
more severe than, that provided by the laws of the State."

That any Legislature would ever, under any stress of circumstances,
have conferred--or have attempted to confer--such powers upon a
municipality is beyond comprehension.  The statement, if unsustained
by the official State records, would now challenge belief.

Under the favorable conditions mentioned, the Mormons were now upon
the high wave of prosperity in Illinois.  Their number had increased
to more than twenty thousand in Hancock and the counties adjoining.
The owners of large tracts of valuable land, protected by legislation
that finds no parallel in any State, courted by the leaders of both
parties, and actually holding for a time the balance of political power
in the State--they seemed indeed to be "the chosen people," as
claimed by their prophet.

It needed no prophet, however, to foretell that this could not long
continue.  The Mormon leaders failed to realize that to champion
the cause of either party would of necessity arouse the fierce
hostility of the other, as in very truth it did.  Politics, the
prime cause of fortune's favors to them in the beginning, proved
their undoing in the end.

Joseph Smith had, soon after his removal from Missouri, been arrested
upon a requisition from the Governor of that State.  From this
arrest he was discharged when brought upon a writ of _habeas corpus_
before Judge Pope, a Whig.  The ground of the decision was, that
as Smith was not in Missouri at the time of the attempt upon the
life of Governor Boggs, and that whatever he did--if he did anything
--to aid or encourage the attempt, was done in Illinois, and not
within the jurisdiction of Missouri laws, he was not a fugitive
from justice within the provision of the Constitution of the United
States.  The decision excited much comment at the time, but, as
stated by Judge Blodgett, it "has borne the test of criticism, and
is now the accepted rule of law in interstate extradition cases."

This for a time inclined the Mormons to the support of the Whig
party.  Again arrested, the prophet, under similar proceedings,
was discharged by a Democratic Judge.  This, as Governor Ford says,

"Induced Smith to issue a proclamation to his followers declaring Judge
Douglas to be a master spirit, and exhorting them to vote for
the Democratic ticket for Governor.  Smith was too ignorant to know
whether he owed his discharge to the law or to party favor.  Such was
the ignorance of the Mormons generally, that they thought anything
to be law which they thought expedient.  All action of the Government
unfavorable to them they looked upon as wantonly oppressive, and
when the law was administered in their favor they attributed it to
partiality and kindness."

The last hope of the Whigs for Mormon support was abandoned in
1843.  In the district of which Hancock County was a part, the
opposing candidates for Congress were Joseph P. Hoge, Democrat,
and Cyrus Walker, Whig, both lawyers of distinction.  The latter
had been counsel for Smith in the Habeas Corpus proceedings last
mentioned.  Grateful for the services then rendered, Smith
openly espoused the candidacy of Walker in the pending contest.
That there were tricks in politics even more than sixty years ago,
will now appear.  One Backinstos, a politician of Hancock County,
declared upon his return from the State capital that he had assurances
from the Governor that the Mormons would be amply protected as long
as they voted the Democratic ticket.  It is hardly necessary to
say that the Governor denied having given any such assurance.
However, the campaign lie of Backinstos, like many of its kind
before and since, proved a "good enough Morgan till after the
election."  This, it will be remembered, was before the days of
railroads and telegraphs, and the Mormon settlement was far remote
from the seat of government.  A partisan jumble, in which the
"saints" were the participants, and the low arts of the demagogues
and pretended revelations from God the chief ingredients, is
thus described by the historian just quoted:

"The mission of Backinstos produced an entire change in the minds of
the Mormon leaders.  They now resolved to drop their friend Walker
and take up Hoge, the Democratic candidate.  A great meeting of
several thousand Mormons was held the Saturday before the election.
Hiram Smith, patriarch and brother of the prophet, appeared in this
assembly and there solemnly announced to the people, that God
had revealed to him that the Mormons must support Mr. Hoge.  William
Law, another leader, next appeared and denied that the Lord had
made any such revelation.  He stated that to his certain knowledge
the prophet Joseph was in favor of Mr. Walker, and that the prophet
was more likely to know the mind of the Lord than the patriarch.
Hiram again repeated his revelation, with a greater tone of authority,
but the people remained in doubt until the next day, Sunday, when the
prophet Joseph himself appeared before the assemblage.  He there
stated that he himself was in favor of Mr. Walker and intended
to vote for him; that he would not, if he could, influence any man
in giving his vote; that he considered it a mean business for
any man to dictate to the people whom they should vote for; that
he had heard his brother Hiram had received a revelation from
the Lord on the subject; but for his own part, he did not much
believe in revelations on the subject of election.  Brother Hiram was,
however, a man of truth; he had known him intimately ever since he
was a boy, and he had never known him to tell a lie.  If brother
Hiram said he had received a revelation he had no doubt he had.
When the Lord speaks let all the earth be silent."

That the prophet Joseph well understood how to

  "By indirections find directions out,"

clearly appears from his cunning expression of faith in the pretended
revelation of the patriarch Hiram.  The effect of this speech
was far-reaching.  It turned the entire Mormon vote to Hoge, thereby
securing his election to Congress, and at once placed the Whigs in
the ranks of the implacable anti-Mormon party then in process of
rapid formation.  The crusade that now began for the expulsion
of the Mormons from the State, was greatly augmented by acts of
unparalleled folly upon their own part.  In order to protect their
leaders from arrest, it was decreed by the City Council of Nauvoo
that no writ unless issued and approved by its Mayor should be
executed within the sacred city, and that any officer attempting
to execute a writ otherwise issued, within the city, should be
subject to imprisonment for life, and that the pardoning power
of the Governor of the State was in such case suspended.  This
ordinance when published created great astonishment and indignation.
The belief became general that the Mormons were about to set up
for themselves a separate Government wholly independent of that of
the State.  This belief was strengthened by the presentation of
a petition to Congress praying for the establishment of a
Territorial Government for Nauvoo and vicinity.

Apparently oblivious of the gathering storm, Joseph Smith early in
1844 committed his crowning act of folly by announcing himself a
candidate for the high office of President of the United States.
Not only this, but as stated by Governor Ford,

"Smith now conceived the idea of making himself a temporal Prince as
well as the spiritual leader of his people.  He instituted a new
and select order of the priesthood, the members of which were to
be priests and kings, temporal and spiritual.  These were to be
the nobility, the upholders of his throne.  He caused himself to
be crowned and anointed king and priest far above all others.
To uphold his pretensions to royalty, he deduced his descent by an
unbroken chain from Joseph, the son of Jacob, and that of his wife
from some other renowned personage of Old Testament history.
The Mormons openly denounced the Government of the United States, as
being utterly corrupt, and about to pass away and be replaced by
the government of God, to be administered by his servant Joseph.
It is at this day certain, also, that about this time, the prophet
instituted an order in the Church called the Danite Band.  This
was to be a body-guard about the person of their sovereign, sworn to
obey his commands as those of God himself."

During late years a war of words has been waged within the
Mormon church over the question of the responsibility of the prophet
Joseph for the introduction of polygamy as a cardinal tenet of its
creed.  The son of the prophet, it will be remembered, led a revolt
against Brigham Young, soon after the succession of the latter
to the presidency of the Church, and is now at the head of the
Mormon establishment at Plano, Illinois.  This branch of the Church
rejects the dogma of polygamy, declaring it to be utterly repugnant
to the divine revelation to Joseph, and to early Mormon belief and
practice.

Upon the contrary, the main body in Utah--of which Joseph F. Smith
the nephew of the prophet and son of Hiram the patriarch is now
the president--found their belief in the divine character of their
peculiar institution upon alleged revelations direct from God to
the founder of the Church.  The statement of Governor Ford, written
nearly sixty years ago, sheds some light upon this controversy:

"A doctrine was now revealed that no woman could get to heaven
except as the wife of a Mormon elder.  The elders were allowed
to have as many of these wives as they could maintain; and it was
a doctrine of the Church that any female could be 'sealed up to
eternal life' by uniting herself as wife to the elder of her choice.
This doctrine was maintained by appeal to the Old Testament scriptures
and by the example of Abraham and Jacob and Daniel and Solomon,
the favorites of God in a former age of the world."

As the necessary result of the causes mentioned, the followers
of the prophet soon found themselves bitterly antagonized by almost
the whole anti-Mormon population of the "Military Tract."  Charges
and counter-charges were made, the arrest of the leaders of the
opposing parties followed in rapid succession, and outrages and
riots were of daily occurrence.  Public meetings were held; all
the crimes known to the calendar were charged against the Mormons,
and resolutions passed demanding their immediate expulsion from the
State.  What is known in Illinois history as the "Mormon war"
followed closely in the wake of the events just mentioned.  Innocent
persons were, in many instances, the victims of the folly and of
the crimes of unprincipled and brutal leaders.

The events of this period constitute a dark chapter in the history
of the State--one that can be recalled only with feelings of horror.
The great body of citizens, it is needless to say, favored the
rigid maintenance of order and the protection of life and property;
but it was the very heyday for the lawless and vicious element
of all parties.

That this condition of affairs could not long continue was manifest.
The bloody termination, however, came in a manner unexpected to
all.  Two of the Mormon leaders, William and Wilson Law, were,
at the time mentioned, in open revolt against the newly-assumed
powers and the alleged practices of the prophet.  To strengthen
their opposition they procured a printing-press and equipment, and
issued from their office in Nauvoo one number of a small weekly,
"The Expositor."  By order of the Mayor, Smith, and decree of
the Council, the press was seized and destroyed, and the Law brothers
and their few adherents compelled to flee the Holy City.  Immediately
upon their arrival at Carthage, they caused warrants to be issued for
the arrest of Joseph and Hiram Smith, John Taylor, and others, for
the destruction of the printing-press.  The almost sovereign powers
previously conferred upon the city of Nauvoo now play an important
part in this drama.  The persons arrested, as above mentioned, were
at once brought by writs of _habeas corpus,_ issued by the Mayor
of Nauvoo, before the Municipal Court and there promptly discharged.
Governor Ford, whose righteous soul had been vexed to the limit of
endurance by unmerited abuse from Mormon and Gentile alike from
the beginning of this controversy, here indulges in a few expressions
of justifiable irony.  Of these proceedings he says:

"It clearly appeared both from the complaints of the citizens
and the admissions of the Mormons, that the whole proceedings of
the Mayor, Council, and Municipal Court were illegal and not to be
endured in a free country; but some apology might be made for
the court, as it had been repeatedly assured by some of the ablest
lawyers in the State of both political parties, when candidates
before that people, that it had full and complete power to issue
writs of _habeas corpus_ in all cases whatever."

  "In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,
  But, being seasoned with a gracious voice,
  Obscures the show of evil."

The incidents mentioned added quickly fuel to the flame.  A new
warrant was issued by a magistrate in Carthage for the arrest of
the Mormon leaders and placed in the hands of an officer of the
State for execution.  The latter at once summoned the citizens
of the county, as a _posse comitatus,_ to aid in the arrests.
At this critical moment Governor Ford, in the interest of peace,
reached Carthage, the county seat.  Upon his arrival he found
the situation truly alarming.  Several hundred armed men from
the country around had hastily assembled and were encamped upon
the public square.  By order of the Governor, this force was
organized into companies and placed under the immediate command of
officers of his appointment.  At the conclusion of a speech by the
Governor, the officers and men pledged themselves to aid him in
upholding the laws, and in protecting the Mormon prisoners when
brought to Carthage for trial.

Meanwhile, Smith as lieutenant-general had called out the Nauvoo
Legion and proclaimed martial law in that city.  The Mormons from the
country promptly obeyed the call of their leader and marched to
his assistance, and Nauvoo became at once a vast military camp.
Governor Ford now demanded of the Mormon leaders the return of the
State arms furnished at the time of the organization of the Legion,
this demand, if not promptly complied with, to be enforced by an
immediate attack upon Nauvoo by the assembled forces encamped at
Carthage.

Appreciating now for the first time the hopelessness of a conflict
with State authorities, a number of the weapons were surrendered
and the Smiths, accompanied by Taylor and Richards, two other Mormon
leaders, went to Carthage and surrendered themselves to the officer
holding the warrant for their arrest.  Upon giving bond for their
appearance, they were at once released on charge of riot.  A new
complaint, charging them with treason--in levying war against
the State, declaring martial law in Nauvoo, and ordering out the
Legion to resist the execution of lawful process--was immediately lodged
against them, a warrant duly issued, the prisoners rearrested
and committed to the common jail of the county.  On the evening
following this arrest, the guards stationed at the jail for the
protection of the prisoners were attacked and overpowered by a mob
of several hundred persons.  Governor Ford states:

"An attempt was now made to break open the door; but Joseph Smith,
being armed with a six-barrel pistol furnished by his friends,
fired several times as the door was burst open and wounded three
of the assailants.  At the same time, several shots were fired into
the room, wounding John Taylor and killing Hiram Smith.  Joseph
Smith now attempted to escape by jumping out of the second-story
window; but the fall so stunned him that he was unable to rise,
and being placed by the conspirators in a sitting posture, they
despatched him by four balls shot through his body."

Thus perished, at the age of thirty-nine, the founder and prophet of
the Mormon Church.  Contradictory statements as to his real character
have come down to the present generation.  The estimate of Governor
Ford, who knew him well, is as follows:

"He was the most successful impostor in modern times; a man who,
though ignorant and coarse, had some great natural parts which
fitted him for temporary success, but which were so obscured and
counteracted by the inherent corruptness of his nature that he
never could succeed in establishing a system of policy which looked
to permanent success in the future.  It must not be supposed that the
pretended prophet practised the tricks of a common impostor; that he
was a dark and gloomy person with a long beard, a grave and severe
aspect, and a reserved and saintly carriage of his person.  On the
contrary, he was full of levity, even to boyish romping; dressed
like a dandy, and at times drank like a sailor and swore like a
pirate.  He could, as occasion required, be exceedingly meek in
his deportment, and then, again, be as rough and boisterous as a
highway robber; being always able to prove to his followers the
propriety of his conduct.  He always quailed before power, and was
arrogant to weakness.  At times he could put on an air of a penitent,
as if feeling the deepest humility for his sins, and suffering
unutterable anguish, and indulging in the most gloomy foreboding of
eternal woe.  At such times he would call for the prayers of the
brethren in his behalf with a wild and fearful anxiety and
earnestness.  He was six feet high, strongly built, and uncommonly
full muscled.  No doubt he was as much indebted for his influence
over an ignorant people to the superiority of his physical vigor as
to his great cunning and intellect."

Of a wholly different tenor is the tribute of Parley P. Pratt, the
poet and historian of the Mormon Church:

"President Smith was in person tall and well built, strong and
active; of a light complexion, light hair, blue eyes, and of an
expression peculiar to himself, on which the eye naturally rested with
interest and was never weary of beholding.  His countenance was
very mild, affable, and beaming with intelligence and benevolence mingled
with a look of interest and an unconscious smile of cheerfulness, and
entirely free from all restraint or affectation of gravity; and
there was something connected with the serene and steady penetrating
glance of his eye, as if he would penetrate the deepest abyss of
the human heart, gaze into eternity, penetrate the heavens, and
comprehend all worlds.  He possessed a noble boldness and independence
of character; his manner was easy and familiar, his rebuke terrible
as the lion, his benevolence unbounded as the ocean, his
intelligence universal, and his language abounding in original
eloquence peculiar to himself."

For a brief period following the assassination of the Smiths,
comparative quiet prevailed in the Mormon country.  The selection of
a successor to their murdered prophet, was now the absorbing question
among the Mormon people.  Revelations were published that the
prophet, in imitation of the Saviour, was to rise from the dead,
and some even reported that they had seen him attended by a celestial
army coursing the air on a great white horse.

Sydney Rigdon now aspired to be the head of the Church as the
successor to the martyred prophet.  His claims were verified by
a pretended revelation direct from heaven.  He was, however, at
once antagonized by the "quorum of the Twelve," and after a bitter
struggle, Apostle Brigham Young was chosen, and Rigdon expelled
from the Church and "given over to the buffetings of Satan."

The quiet immediately succeeding the tragedy was of short duration.
It was only the calm which precedes the storm.  While his followers
were invoking the vengeance of the law upon the murderers of the
prophet, the anti-Mormons were quietly organizing a crusade for
the expulsion of the entire Mormon population from the State.  The
trial of the assassins of the Smiths resulted in their acquittal, as
was to have been expected when the intense anti-Mormon feeling
existing throughout the immediate country is taken into account.
The result is even less surprising when it is remembered that
the principal witness for the prosecution supplemented his testimony
of having seen the crime committed, by the remarkable declaration that
immediately upon the death of Joseph, "a bright and shining
light descended upon his head, that several of the conspirators
were stricken with total blindness, and that he heard supernatural
voices in the air confirming the divine mission of the murdered
prophet."

In the narration of these exciting events, the names of men who at
a later day achieved national distinction frequently occur.  The
Hon. O. H. Browning, since Senator and member of the Cabinet,
was chief counsel for the alleged murderers of the Smiths.  He was
at the time a distinguished Whig leader, and one of the most eloquent
men in the State.  The disorder and outrages that followed the
acquittal just mentioned called Governor Ford again to the seat of
war.  He says:

"When informed of these proceedings, I hastened to Jacksonville,
where in a conference with General Hardin, Judge Douglas, and
Mr. McDougal the Attorney-General of the State, it was agreed that
these gentlemen should proceed to Hancock County in all haste with
whatever force had been raised, and put an end to these disorders.
It was also agreed that they should unite their influence with mine
to induce the Mormons to leave the State.  The twelve apostles had
now become satisfied that the Mormons could not remain, or, if they
did, that the leaders would be compelled to abandon the sway
they exercised over them.  Through the intervention of General
Hardin, acting on instructions from me, an agreement was made
between the hostile parties for the voluntary removal of the greater
part of the Mormons across the Mississippi in the spring of 1846."

Of the advisors of the Governor in the adjustment mentioned, Douglas
and McDougall were at a later day distinguished Senators, respectively
from Illinois and California, and Hardin was killed while gallantly
leading his regiment at the battle of Buena Vista.

To the peaceable accomplishment of the purposes mentioned, a small
force under a competent officer was stationed for a time in Hancock
County.  The Governor justly felicitates himself that thereby "the
greater part of the Military Tract was saved from the horrors of
civil war in the winter time, when much misery would have followed
by the dispersion of families and the destruction of property."

The Mormon exodus from Illinois, once the "land of promise," now
began in terrible earnest.  Many farms and homes and large quantities
of personal effects were hastily disposed of at a great sacrifice.
The speeding was far different from the welcome but a few years
before so heartily extended to the incoming "saints."  The "Holy
City" and sacred temple soon to be destroyed were abandoned for
perilous journeyings in the wilderness.  The chapter that
immediately follows in the history of this people is indeed pathetic.
The terrible sufferings of the aged and infirm, of helpless women
and children, as the shadows of the long night of winter gathered about
them on their journey, can never be adequately told.  But, inspired
with the thought that they were the Israel of God, that Brigham
Young was their divinely appointed leader, that the pillar of cloud
by day and of fire by night ever went before them on their journeyings,
they patiently endured all dangers and hardships.

High upon the western slope of the Wasatch hard by the old wagon
trail which led down into the valley stands a huge rock around
whose base the Mormon leader assembled his followers just as the
last rays of a summer sun were falling upon the mountains.  In
stirring words he recalled their persecutions and trials, told them
that their long pilgrimage, the weary march by day and lonely vigil
by night, were now ended, and their Canaan the great valley
which stretched out before them.

Upon a visit to Salt Lake City nearly a third of a century ago,
I attended service in the great Tabernacle when it was filled to
overflowing, and yet so excellent were its acoustic arrangements
that every word of the speaker and every note of the organ could
be heard distinctly.  The surroundings were indeed imposing.  Upon
the great platform sat the President and his Council, the twelve
apostles, the seventy elders, with an innumerable army of bishops,
teachers, deacons, and other functionaries constituting the
lower order of the Mormon hierarchy.  The sermon was delivered
by the famous Orson Pratt, the Saint Paul of the Mormon Church,
a venerable patriarch of four score years, and yet, withal, a man of
wonderful power.

As our little party passed in front of the speaker's platform to
reach the door, he halted in his discourse, and stated to the
audience that the strangers within their gates were leaving because
of the near departure of their train and not because of any disrespect
to the service.  Then, bowing his aged head, he invoked the blessing
of the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, upon the Gentile
strangers, and prayed "that their long journey might be ended in
safety, and that in the fulness of time, having witnessed the
manifestations of Almighty Power, they might return again, not
as sojourners, but as fellow-citizens with the saints, to dwell in
the Holy City."



XIV
A KENTUCKY COLONEL

COL. WINTERSMITH'S GREAT POPULARITY--HIS ADMIRATION FOR MR. CLAY
--HIS MARVELLOUS MEMORY--HIS WIT AND HUMOR.

Few men were better known in Washington, a quarter of a century
and more ago, than Colonel Dick Wintersmith of Kentucky.  He had
creditably filled important positions of public trust in his native
State.  His integrity was beyond question, and his popularity knew
no bounds.  Without the formality of party nomination, and with
hardly the shadow of opposition at the polls, he had held the office
of State Treasurer for nearly a score of years.  An ardent Whig in
early life, he was a devout worshipper at the shrine of Henry Clay.
In the later years of his life, he would often with the deepest
emotion refer to himself as "the last of the old guard."  He never
tired of relating interesting incidents of Mr. Clay.  It was his
glory that he had accompanied "the great pacificator" to Washington,
when, with the fond hope of being able by his historic "compromise"
to pour oil on the troubled waters, he returned to the Senate
for the last time.

Wintersmith was the close friend of Theodore O'Hara, and stood
beside him when at the unveiling of the monument to the Kentuckians
who had fallen at Buena Vista he pronounced his now historic lines
beginning--

  "On fame's eternal camping-ground
  Their silent tents are spread."

Colonel Wintersmith knew, as he knew his children, two generations
of the public men of Kentucky.  His memory was a marvel to all who
knew him.  He could repeat till the dawn, extracts from famous
speeches he had heard from the lips of Clay, Grundy, Marshall, and
Menifee.  More than once, I have heard him declaim the wonderful
speech of Sargent S. Prentiss delivered almost a half-century
before, in the old Harrodsburg Court-house, in defence of Wilkinson
for killing three men at the Galt House.

It is hardly necessary to say that the Colonel was the soul of
generosity.  It was a part of his living faith that--

  "Kind hearts are more than coronets."

That he was possessed in no stinted measure of wit and its kindred
quality, humor, will appear from an incident or two to be related.

The Hon. Ignatius Donnelly, member of Congress from Minnesota, had
written a book to prove that Lord Bacon was the veritable author
of the plays usually accredited to Shakespeare.  Soon after the
appearance of Donnelly's book, he met Colonel Wintersmith on
Pennsylvania Avenue.

After a cordial greeting, the Colonel remarked, "I have been reading
your book, Donnelly, and I don't believe a word of it."

"What?" inquired Donnelly, with great surprise.

"Oh, that book of yours," said the Colonel, "in which you tried to
prove that Shakespeare never wrote 'Hamlet' and 'Macbeth' and 'Lear'
and all those other plays."

"My dear sir," replied Donnelly with great earnestness, "I can
prove beyond all peradventure that Shakespeare never wrote those
plays."

"He did," replied Wintersmith, "he did write them, Donnelly, _I
saw him write three or four of them, myself."_

"Impossible!" replied Donnelly, who was as guiltless of anything
that savored of humor as the monument recently erected to the memory
of Hon. John Sherman, "impossible, Colonel, that you could have
seen Shakespeare write those plays; they were written three hundred
years ago."

"Three hundred years, three hundred years," slowly murmured the
Colonel in pathetic tone, "is it possible that is has been so long?
_Lord, how time does fly!"_

The Colonel often told the following with a gravity that gave it
at least the semblance of truth.  Many years ago, his State was
represented in part in the Upper House by a statesman who rarely, when
in good form, spoke less than an entire day.  His speeches, in
large measure, usually consisted of dull financial details,
statistics, etc.  He became in time the terror of his associates, and
the nightmare of visitors in the galleries.  His "Mr. President," was
usually the signal for a general clearing out of both Senate Chamber
and galleries.

"Upon one occasion," said Colonel Dick, "I was seated in the
last tier in the public gallery, when my Senator with books and
documents piled high about him solemnly addressed the Chair.  As
was the wont, the visitors in the gallery as one man arose to make
their exit.  With a revolver in each hand, I promptly planted myself
in front of the door, and in no uncertain tone ordered the crowd to
resume their seats, and remain quietly until the Senator from
Kentucky had concluded his remarks.  They did so and no word of
complaint reached my ears.  Hour after hour during the long summer
day the speech drew itself along.  At length as the shadows were
lengthening and the crickets began to chirp, the speech ended
and the Senator took his seat.  I promptly replaced my pistols and
motioned the visitors to move out.  They did so on excellent time.
As the last man was passing out, he quietly remarked to me, 'Mister,
that was all right, no fault to find, but _if it was to do over
again, you might shoot.'"_



XV
FORGOTTEN EVENTS OF THE LONG AGO

THE WRITER MEETS MISS GRAHAM, SISTER-IN-LAW OF MR. GILES, A
REPRESENTATIVE IN THE DAYS OF WASHINGTON--HIS MEETING WITH THE
DAUGHTER OF THOMAS W. GILMER, SECRETARY OF THE NAVY UNDER PRESIDENT
TYLER--THE SECRETARY KILLED, AND THE PRESIDENT ENDANGERED BY AN
EXPLOSION--SPECULATION AS TO POSSIBLE POLITICAL CHANGES HAD THE
PRESIDENT BEEN KILLED.

During my sojourn in Washington I visited the "Louise Home," one
of the splendid charities of the late W. W. Corcoran.  Two of
the ladies I there met were Miss Graham and Miss Gilmer.  The turn
of Fortune's wheel had brought each of them from once elegant
Virginia homes to spend the evening of life in the Home which
Mr. Corcoran had so kindly and thoughtfully provided.  It was in
very truth the welcome retreat to representatives of old Southern
families who had known better days.  Here in quiet and something
of elegant leisure, the years sped by, the chief pastime recalling
events and telling over again and again the social triumphs of the
long ago.  Thus lingering in the shadows of the past, sadly
reflecting, it may be, in the silent watches, that--

  "The tender grace of a day that is dead
  Will never come back to me,"

these venerable ladies were in sad reality "only waiting till the
shadows had a little longer grown."

There was something pathetically remindful of the good old Virginia
days in the manner in which Miss Graham handed me her card and
invited me to be seated.  Looking me earnestly in the face, she
said, "Mr. Vice-President, you must have known my brother-in-law, Governor
Giles."

"Do you mean Senator William B. Giles of Virginia?"  I inquired.

"Yes, yes," she said, "did you know him?"

"No, madam," I replied, "I did not; he was a member of Congress
when Washington was President; that was a little before my day.
But is it possible that you are a sister-in-law of Governor Giles?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, "he married my eldest sister and I was
in hope that you knew him."

I assured her that I had never known him personally, but that I
knew something of his history:  that he was a soldier of the
Revolution; that he began his public career with the passing of
the old Confederation and the establishment of the National Union;
that as Representative or Senator he was in Congress almost
continuously from the administration of Washington to that of
Jackson.  I then repeated to her the words Mr. Benton, his long-time
associate in the Senate, had spoken of her brother-in-law:  "Macon
was wise, Randolph brilliant, Gallatin and Madison able in argument,
but Giles was the ready champion, always ripe for the combat."  And
I told her that John Randolph, for many years his colleague, had
said:  "Giles was to our House of Representatives what Charles
James Fox was to the British House of Commons--the most accomplished
debater our country has known."

I might have said to Miss Graham, but did not, that her brother-in-law,
then a member of the House, had voted against the farewell address
of that body to President Washington upon his retirement from
the great office.  Strange indeed to our ears sound the words that
even mildly reflect upon the Father of his Country.  Of this,
however, we may be assured, that the Golden Age of our history
is but a dream; "the era of absolute good feeling,"--the era that has
not been.

  "Past and to come seem best;
  Things present, worst."

Before condemning Mr. Giles too severely the words of Edmund Burke
may well be recalled:  "Party divisions, whether upon the whole
operating for the best, are things inseparable from free Government."
Party divisions came in with our Constitution; partisan feeling
almost with our first garments.

In this connection it will be remembered that this country has
known no period of more intense and bitter party feeling than during
the administration of the immediate successor of Washington, the
period which witnessed the downfall of the Federal party, and
the rise of the party of Jefferson.  It was after the election but
before the inauguration of John Adams, that the following words
were spoken of President Washington by the brother-in-law of the
little old lady to whom I have referred:

"I must object to those parts of the address which speak of the
wisdom and firmness of the President.  I may be singular in my
ideas, but I believe his administration has neither been firm
nor wise.  I must acknowledge that I am one of those who do not
think so much of the President as some others do.  I wish that this
was the moment of his retirement.  I think that the Government
of the United States can go on without him.  What calamities would
attend the United States, and how short the duration of its
independence, if but one man could be found fitted to conduct
its administration!  Much had been said and by many people about
the President's intended retirement.  For my own part, I feel no
uncomfortable sensations about it."

As I thus recalled the man whose public life began with that of
Washington, his kinswoman at my side seemed indeed the one living bond
of connection between the present and the long past, that past
which had witnessed the Declaration of Independence, the War of
the Revolution, and the establishment of the Federal Government.

The younger, by many years, of the two ladies, was the daughter of
the Hon. Thomas W. Gilmer, a distinguished member of Congress during
the third decade of the century, later the Governor of Virginia,
and at the time of his death the Secretary of the Navy.  The mention
of his name recalls a tragic event that cast a pall over the nation
and shrouded more than one hearthstone in deepest gloom.  During
later years, the horrors of an internecine struggle that knows no
parallel, the assassination of three Presidents of the United
States, and the thousand casualties that have crowded in rapid
succession, have almost wiped from memory the incident now to be
mentioned.

The pride of the American Navy, the man-of-war _Princeton,_ Commodore
Stockton in command, was lying in the Potomac just below Washington,
on the morning of February 28, 1843.  The day was beautiful, and the
distinguished commander, who had known much of gallant service,
had invited more than one hundred guests to accompany him on a sail
to a point a few miles below Mount Vernon.  Among the guests
were President Tyler and two members of his Cabinet; Mr. Upshur,
Secretary of State, and Mr. Gilmer, Secretary of the Navy; the
widow of Ex-President Madison; Mr. Gardner, a prominent citizen of
New York, and his accomplished daughter; Commodore Kennan; and a
number of Senators and Representatives.  Commodore Stockton was
anxious to have his guests witness the working of the machinery of
his vessel and to observe the fire of his great gun, his especial pride.
Mr. Gardner and his daughter were guests at the Executive Mansion;
and to the latter, the President--then for many years a widower
--was especially attentive.  Officers and guests were all in the
best of sprits, and nothing seemed wanting to make the occasion
one of unalloyed pleasure.  Upon the return, and when almost directly
opposite Mount Vernon, the company were summoned by the Commodore from
the dinner table to witness the testing of the gun.  Preceded by
an officer, the guests were soon assembled in proximity to the gun.
A place at the front was reserved for the President, but just as
he was advancing, his attention was directed by his fair guest
to some object on the shore.  This for a moment arrested his
progress, and prevented his instant death, for at this critical
moment the gun exploded, causing the immediate death of more
than twenty persons, and serious injuries to many others.  Among
the injured were Senator Benton and Commodore Stockton.  The list
of the dead included Secretary of State Upshur, Secretary of the
Navy Gilmer, Commodore Kennan--one of the heroes of the second war
with Great Britain,--and Mr. Gardner, the father of the lady whose
timely interposition had caused the moment's delay which had saved
the President from the terrible fate of his associates.  Upon
the return of the _Princeton_ to Washington the dead were removed to
the Executive Mansion, and the day, so auspicious in the beginning,
ended in gloom.

Something in the way of romance is the sequel to that sad event.
A few months later Miss Gardner, the fair guest of the President
upon the ill-fated _Princeton,_ became his bride, and during the
remainder of his term of office did the honors of the Executive
Mansion.

The thousands of visitors who have, during the past sixty years,
passed through the spacious rooms of that Mansion, have paused
before a full-length portrait of one of the most beautiful of women.
Possibly the interest of no one who gazed upon her lovely features
was lessened when told that the portrait was that of the wife of
President Tyler, the once charming and accomplished Miss Gardner, whose
name is so closely associated with the long-ago chapter of sorrow and
of romance.

A thought pertaining to the domain of the real rather than of
the romantic is suggested by the sad accident upon the _Princeton._
But for the trifling incident which detained President Tyler from the
side of his Cabinet officers at the awful moment, the administration
of the Government would have passed to other hands.  As the law
then stood, the Speaker of the House of Representatives would have
succeeded to the Presidency; and how this might have changed the
current of our political history is a matter of at least curious
speculation.

Remembering that--

  "Two stars keep not
  Their motion in one sphere,"

might not the removal of one have healed the widening breach in
the Whig party?  What might have been its effect upon the grand
Internal Improvement Scheme--the darling project of Henry Clay?
what upon the determination of the Oregon Boundary Question--whether
by diplomacy or war? and how might the destiny of the "Lone Star,"
the Republic of Texas, have been changed?  What might have been
the effect upon the political fortunes of Tyler's great antagonist,
around whom the aggressive forces of the party he had founded were
even then gathering for a life-and-death struggle against a
comparatively obscure rival in the Presidential campaign of 1844?

Trifles light as air are sometimes the pivots upon which hinge
momentous events.  The ill-timed publication of a personal
letter defeated Cass in 1848; and within our day the utterance of a
single word, unheard by the candidate to whom it was addressed,
lost the Presidency to Blaine.

The antagonism of Tyler and his adherents eliminated, it is within
the bounds of probability that Henry Clay would have triumphed
in his last struggle for the Presidency.  If so, what change might
not have been wrought in the trend of history?  Under the splendid
leadership of the "great pacificator," what might have been the
termination of vital questions even then casting their dark shadows
upon our national pathway?

With Clay at the helm, himself the incarnation of the spirit of
compromise, possibly--who can tell?--the evil days so soon to follow
might have been postponed for many generations.



XVI
ROBERT G. INGERSOLL

MR. INGERSOLL'S ELOQUENCE WHILE A YOUNG MAN--HIS CANDIDACY FOR
CONGRESS--HIS AGNOSTICISM A HINDRANCE TO HIS POLITICAL ADVANCEMENT
--HIS ORATION AT THE FUNERAL OF HIS BROTHER.

It was in April, 1859, that for the first time I met Robert G.
Ingersoll.  He came over from his home in Peoria to attend the
Woodford Circuit Court.  He was then under thirty years of age, of
splendid physique, magnetic in the fullest significance of the
word, and one of the most attractive and agreeable of men.  He was
almost boyish in appearance, and hardly known beyond the limits of
the county in which he lived.  He had but recently moved to Peoria
from the southern part of the State.

To those who remember him it is hardly necessary to say that even at
that early day he gave unmistakable evidence of his marvellous
gifts.  His power over a jury was wonderful indeed; and woe betide
the counsel of but mediocre talents who had Ingersoll for an
antagonist in a closely contested case.

The old Court-house at Metamora is yet standing, a monument of the
past; the county seat removed, it has long since fallen from its
high estate.  In my boyhood, I have more than once heard Mr. Lincoln
at its bar, and later was a practitioner there myself--and State's
Attorney for the Circuit,--when Mr. Ingersoll was attendant upon
its courts.  Rarely at any time or place have words been spoken
more eloquent than fell from the lips of Lincoln and Ingersoll
in that now deserted Court-house, in the years long gone by.

The first appearance of Mr. Ingersoll in the political arena was
in the Presidential struggle of 1860.  In his later years he was
a Republican, but in the contest just mentioned he was the earnest
advocate of the election of Mr. Douglas to the Presidency and
was himself the Democratic candidate for Congress in the Peoria
District.  His competitor was Judge Kellogg, a gentleman of well-known
ability and many years' experience in Congress.  Immediately upon his
nomination, Ingersoll challenged Kellogg to a series of joint
debates.  The challenge was accepted, and the debates which followed
were a rare treat to the throngs who heard them.  The discussion
turned upon the vital issues yet pending at the outbreak of the
Civil War, issues which were to find their final determination
on the field of battle.  Possibly, with the exception of the historic
debates two years earlier, between Lincoln and Douglas, the country
has known no abler discussion of great questions.  It was then for
the first time that Ingersoll displayed the marvellous forensic
powers that at a later day--and upon a different arena--gave him
world-wide renown.

It was at a period subsequent to that just mentioned that he became
an agnostic.  I recall no expression of his during the early years
of our acquaintance that indicated a departure from the faith in
which he had been reared.  That his extreme views upon religious
subjects, and his manner, exceedingly offensive at times, of
expressing them, formed an insuperable barrier to his political
advancement, cannot be doubted.  But for his unbelief, what political
honors might have awaited him cannot certainly be known.  But
recalling the questions then under discussion, the intensity of
party feeling, and the enthusiasm that his marvellous eloquence
never failed to arouse in the thousands who hung upon his words, it
is probable that the most exalted station might have been attained.
To those familiar with the political events of that day, it is
known that the antagonism aroused by his assaults upon the citadel
of the faith sacred to the many, compassed his defeat in his
candidature in 1868 for the Governorship of Illinois.  His explanation
was, that his defeat was caused by a slight difference of
opinion between himself and some of the brethren upon the highly
exciting question of total depravity.

Some years later, the nominee of his party for the Presidency
was exceedingly obnoxious to him.  Meeting the Colonel the morning
after the adjournment of the convention I inquired, "Are you happy?"
To this he replied, that he was somewhat in the condition of a very
profane youth who had just got religion at a backwoods camp-meeting.
Soon after his conversion, the preacher, taking him affectionately by
the hand, inquired:  "My young friend, are you very happy?"  "Well,
parson," replied the only half-converted youth, "I am not damn happy,
just _happy,_ that's all."

His only brother was for many years a Representative in Congress
from Illinois.  Clark Ingersoll was himself able and eloquent, but
overshadowed by the superior gifts of his younger brother, the
subject of this sketch.  The death of the former was to Colonel
Ingersoll a sorrow which remained with him to the last.  The funeral
occurred in Washington in the summer of 1879, and of the pall-bearers
selected by Colonel Ingersoll for the last sad service to his
brother, were men well known in public life, one of whom but two
years later, while President of the United States, fell by the hand
of an assassin.

From a Washington paper of the day succeeding the funeral of Clark
Ingersoll, the following is taken:  "When Colonel Ingersoll ceased
speaking the pall-bearers, Senator Allison, Senator David Davis,
Senator Blaine, Senator Voorhees, Representatives Garfield of Ohio,
Morrison, Boyd, and Stevenson of Illinois, bore the casket to
the hearse and the lengthy _cortege_ proceeded to the Oak Hill
Cemetery where the remains were interred."

The occasion was one that will not easily pass from my memory.
There was no service whatever save the funeral oration which has
found its way into all languages.  I stood by the side of
Colonel Ingersoll near the casket during its delivery, and vividly
recall his deep emotion, and the faltering tones in which the
wondrous sentences were uttered.  It is probable that this oration
has no counterpart in literature.  It seemed in very truth the
knell of hope, the expression of a grief that could know no surcease,
the agony of a parting that could know no morrow.

In such an hour how cheerless and comfortless these words:

"Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren peaks of two
eternities.  We strive in vain to look beyond the heights.  We cry
aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our wailing cry.

"Every life, no matter if its every hour is rich with love, and
every moment jewelled with a joy, will at its close become a tragedy
as sad and deep and dark as can be woven of the warp and woof of
mystery and death."

And yet in those other words, "But in the night of death, hope sees
a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing," and,
"while on his forehead fell the golden dawning of a grander
day," there is a yearning for "the touch of a vanished hand," and a
hope that no philosophy could dispel of a reunion sometime and
somewhere with the loved and lost.

Two decades later, again "the veiled shadow stole upon the scene,"
and the sublime mystery of life and death was revealed.  The awful
question, "If a man die shall he live again?" was answered, and to
the great agnostic _all was known._



XVII
A CAMP-MEETING ORATOR

PETER CARTWRIGHT, METHODIST PREACHER--HIS FEARLESSNESS AND ENERGY--
HIS OLD-FASHIONED ORTHODOXY--HOW HE CONVERTED A PROFANE SWEARER
--HIS ATTENDANCE AT A BALL--OLD-TIME CAMP-MEETINGS--CARTWRIGHT'S
AVERSION TO OTHER SECTS--CONVERSION OF A DESPERADO INTO A PENITENT
--CARTWRIGHT MR. LINCOLN'S COMPETITOR FOR REPRESENTATIVE--HIS SPEECH
AT A DEMOCRATIC STATE CONVENTION.

The Rev. Peter Cartwright was a noted Methodist preacher of pioneer
days in Central Illinois.  Once seen, he was a man never to be
forgotten.  He was, in the most expressive sense of the words, _sui
generis;_ a veritable product of the times in which he lived,
and the conditions under which he moved and had his being.  All in
all, his like will not appear again.  He was converted when a mere
youth at a camp-meeting in southern Kentucky; soon after, he was
licensed to preach, and became a circuit rider in that State,
and later was of the Methodist vanguard to Illinois.  It was said of
him that he was of the church _military_ as well as "the church
militant."  He was of massive build, an utter stranger to fear,
and of unquestioned honesty and sincerity.  He was gifted with
an eloquence adapted to the times in which he lived, and the
congregations to which he preached.  There would be no place for
him now, for the untutored assemblages who listened with bated
breath to his fiery appeals are of the past.

  "For, welladay!  Their day is fled,
  Old times are changed, old manners gone."

The narrative of his tough conflicts with the emissaries of Satan is
even now of the rarest reading for a summer's day or a winter's
night.  How he fought the Indians, fought the robbers, swam rivers,
and threaded the prairies, in order that he might carry the Gospel
to the remotest frontiersmen, was of thrilling interest to many of
the new generation as his own sands were running low.  He literally
took no thought of the morrow, but without staff and little even
in the way of scrip unselfishly gave the best years of a life
extending two decades beyond the time allotted, to the service
of his Master.

Until the Judgment leaves are unfolded the good which this man and
many of his co-laborers did in the new country will never be known.
A journey of days on horseback to fill an appointment, to perform a
marriage ceremony, preach a funeral sermon, or speak words of hope
and comfort to the sick or the bereaved, was part of the sum of
a life of service that knew little of rest.

There would probably be few pulpits open to Peter Cartwright in
these more cultivated times.  Old things have passed away; the
pioneer in his rough garb, with axe upon his shoulder, and rifle
in hand, is now but a tradition, while the border line of civilization
has receded westward to the ocean.

None the less, the typical minister of to-day would have had
very scant welcome in the rude pulpits of the days of which we
write.  His elegant attire, conventional manners, written sermons,
and new theology, would have been sadly out of place in the
camp-meeting times, for be it remembered that Cartwright called
things by their right names.  He gave forth no uncertain sound.
His theology was that of the Fathers.  We hear little in these
modern days of "The fire that quencheth not" and of "total depravity"
and of "the bottomless pit."  Such expressions are unfitted for ears
polite.  Higher criticism, new thought, and all kindred ideas
and suggestions,

  "Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer,"

were believed by Cartwright and his contemporaries to be mere
contrivances of Satan for the ensnaring of immortal souls.  His
abhorrence of all these "wiles of the devil," and his scorn for
their advocates, knew no bounds.

His preaching was of the John Wesley, George Whitefield, and Jonathan
Edwards type.  Mingled with his denunciations of sin, his
earnest exhortations to repentance, his graphic description of the
New Jerusalem, with its "streets of gold, walls of jasper, and
gates of pearl," and of the unending bliss of the redeemed, were
expressions now relegated to the limbo of the past.  Little
time, however, was wasted by the Rev. Peter in picking out soft
words for fear of giving offence.  To his impassioned soul "the
final doom of the impenitent," the "torment of the damned," and
"hell fire" itself, were veritable realities.  And so indeed, when
rolling from his tongue, did they appear, not alone to the rapt
believer, but oftentimes to the ungodly and the sinner as well.

More than one marvellous conversion under his ministration is
recorded by Brother Cartwright in the autobiography written in the
closing years of his life.  At one time in crossing a stream, he
was deeply offended by the profanity of the boatman.  The kindly
admonition and the gentle rebuke of the minister apparently added zest
and volume to the oaths of the boatman.  Suddenly seizing the
offender, the irate preacher ducked him into the river, and turned
a deaf ear to his piteous appeals for succor until the half-drowned
wretch had offered a prayer for mercy and made profuse promises of
repentance.  Hopeful conversion, and an ever-after life of Christian
humility, were the gratifying sequels to the baptism so unexpectedly
administered.

Another experience no less remarkable occurred when, during the
early years of his ministry, he was crossing the mountains on
his way to the General Conference.  At a tavern by the wayside,
where he had obtained lodging for the night, he found preparations
in progress for a ball to come off that very evening.  The protestation
of the minister against such wickedness only aroused the ire of
the landlord and his family.  The dance promptly began at the
appointed time.

  "Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
  And all went merry as a marriage-bell."

There being but a single room to the house, and a storm raging
without, the outraged and indignant minister was the unwilling
witness to the ebb and flow of this tide of ungodliness.  At length,
as partners were being chosen for the Virginia Reel, a beautiful
girl approached the solitary guest and requested his hand for
the set just forming.  The minister arose and intimated a ready
compliance with her request, at the same time assuring her that he
never entered upon any important undertaking without first invoking
God's blessing upon it; and seizing her by the hand he fell upon
his knees and with the voice of one born to be obeyed commanded
silence and began his prayer.  The dance was immediately suspended,
and a solemnity and horror, as if the presage of approaching doom,
fell upon the startled assemblage.  Above the agonizing sobs of
the lately impenitent revellers was heard, as was that of the
ancient prophet above the din of the worshippers of Baal, the voice
of the man of God in earnest appeals to the throne of grace for
mercy to these "hell-deserving sinners."

An hour passed; lamentation and groans of sin-sick soul mingled
meanwhile with the fervent exhortations and appeals of the man
of prayer.  Suddenly and in rapid succession shout after shout
of victory from redeemed souls ascended, and as if by magic the
late abode of scoffers became indeed a very Bethel.  The incidents
mentioned, and others scarcely less remarkable, will be found in Mr.
Cartwright's autobiography.  The present generation knows but little
of the old-time camp-meeting; as it existed in the days and under the
administration of Peter Cartwright and his co-laborers, it is verily
a thing of the past.

  "New occasions teach new duties;
  Time makes ancient good uncouth."

Seventy years and more ago, the country new, the population sparse,
the settlements few and far between, the camp-meeting was of yearly
and, as it was believed, of necessary occurrence.  It was, especially
with the early Methodists, a recognized instrumentality for preaching
the Gospel for the conversion of souls.

A convenient spot--usually near a spring or brook--being selected,
a rude pulpit was erected, rough seats provided, a log cabin or
two for the aged and infirm hastily constructed, and there in
the early autumn large congregations assembled for worship.  For
many miles around, and often from neighboring counties, the people
came, on horseback, in wagons, and on foot.  Each family furnished
its own tent, the needed bed-clothing, cooking utensils, and abundant
provisions for their temporary sojourn in the wilderness.  It was no
holiday occasion, no time for merry making.  It was often at
much sacrifice and discomfort that such meetings were held, and
preachers and people alike were in terrible earnest.  Rigid rules for
their government were formulated and enforced, and a proper decorum
required and observed.  Woe betide the wretch who attempted to
create disturbance, or depart from the strictest propriety of
deportment.  Not infrequently in the early camp-meetings of Kentucky
and Tennessee there were stalwart men keeping guard over these
religious gatherings, who had in their younger days hunted the
savage foe from his fastness, faced Tecumseh at Tippecanoe and the
Thames, possibly been comrades of "Old Hickory" through the Everglades
and at New Orleans.

A sufficient time being set apart for meals and the needed hours
of rest, the residue was in the main devoted to public or
private worship.  Family prayer-meetings were held in each tent at
the early dawn; public preaching by the most gifted speakers during
two hours or more of the forenoon.  After a hasty midday meal
the public services were resumed, to be followed at the appointed time
by meetings for special prayer, class meetings, and love feasts,
all conducted with the greatest possible solemnity; and the exercises,
after supper had been served and the candles lighted, concluded
for the day with an impassioned sermon from the main stand.  During
the last-mentioned service especially, the scene presented was
truly of a weird and picturesque character.  The flickering lights
of the camp, the dark forest around, the melodious concert of a
thousand voices mingling in sacred song, the awe-inspiring,
never-to-be-forgotten hymn,

  "Come, humble sinner, in whose breast
  A thousand thoughts revolve,"

the fervid exclamations as convicted sinners gathered around the
mourners' bench and the shouts of joy heard far beyond the limits of
the camp as peace found lodging in sin-distracted souls, all
impressed the memory and heart too deeply for even the flight of
years wholly to dispel.

It need hardly be added that these scenes, of which but feeble
description has been given, marked the hour of triumph of the truly
gifted of the revival preachers of camp-meeting times.  The echoes
will never awake to the sound of such eloquence again.  The orator
and the occasion here met and embraced.  In very truth, the joys
of the redeemed, and the horrors of lost souls, were depicted in
colors that only lips "touched with a live coal from the altar"
could adequately describe.  In the presence of such lurid imagery,
even the inspired revelation of the apocalyptic vision seems but
sober narrative of commonplace events.

With camp-meetings and their thrilling incidents of two generations
ago in our Western country, the name of Peter Cartwright is
inseparably associated.  He was the born leader; _par excellence,_
the unrivalled orator.  Since the passing of Whitefield and Asbury
a greater than he had not appeared.  To those who have never attended
an old-time camp-meeting the following quotation from Mr.
Cartwright's autobiography may be of interest:

"The meeting was protracted for weeks and was kept up day and night.
Thousands heard of the mighty work, and came on foot, on horseback,
and in wagons.  It was supposed that there were in attendance at
different times from twelve to twenty-five thousand.  Hundreds fell
prostrate under the mighty power of God, as men slain in battle;
and it was supposed that between one and two thousand souls were
happily and powerfully converted to God during the meetings.  It
was not unusual for as many as seven preachers to be addressing
the listening thousands at a time, from different stands.  At times,
more than a thousand persons broke out into loud shouting, all at
once, and the shouts could be heard for miles around."

Strange as the following may sound to the present generation, it
is one of the many experiences recorded by Cartwright:

"The camp-meeting was lighted up, the trumpet blown, I rose in the
stand and required every soul to leave the tents and come into the
congregation.  There was a general rush to the stand.  I requested
the brethren, if ever they prayed in their lives, to pray now.  My
voice was strong and clear, and my preaching was more of an
exhortation than anything else.  My text was:  'The gates of
hell shall not prevail.'  In about thirty minutes the power of God
fell upon the congregation in such a manner as is seldom seen; the
people fell in every direction, right and left, front and rear.
It was supposed that not less than three hundred fell like dead
men in mighty battle; and there was no need of calling mourners,
for they were strewed all over the camp ground.  Loud wailings went
up to Heaven from sinners for mercy, and a general shout from
Christians so that the noise was hear afar off."

That it was by no means an unusual occurrence for those who came
to scoff to remain to pray will appear from the same book:

"Just as I was closing up my sermon and pressing it with all the
force I could command, the power of God suddenly was displayed,
and sinners fell by scores all through the assembly.  It was supposed
that several hundred fell in five minutes; sinners turned pale;
some ran into the woods; some tried to get away, and fell in the
attempt; some shouted aloud for joy."

The horror of Brother Cartwrights for "immersionists" and Calvinists
of every degree, appears throughout his entire book.  That his
righteous soul was often sorely vexed because of them is beyond
question.  That his cup had not been drained to the dregs will
appear from a new element he encountered when sent across the Ohio
to the Scioto conference.

"It was a poor and hard circuit at that time, and the country round
was settled in an early day by a colony of Yankees.  At the time
of my appointment I had never seen a Yankee, and I had heard dismal
stories about them.  It was said they lived almost entirely on
pumpkins, molasses, fat meat, and Bohea tea; moreover that they
could not bear loud and zealous sermons, and that they had brought
on their learned preachers with them, and were always criticising us
poor backwoods preachers."

The "isms" our circuit-rider now encountered would have appalled
a less resolute man.  He seems, however, to have gotten along fairly
well except with one "female," who, from all accounts, was given
over in about equal parts to "universalism" and "predestinarianism."
This troublesome female, that he candidly admitted he had _a
hard race to keep up with,_ he has left impaled for all time as
a "thin-faced, Roman-nosed, loquacious, glib-tongued Yankee."

Something of the antagonism of the different persuasions in the
good old pioneer days, may be gathered from the tender farewell
taken by Brother Cartwright of a former associate, one Brother D.,
"who left the Methodists, joined the Free-will Baptists, left them
and joined the New Lights, and then moved to Texas, where I expect
the devil has him in safe keeping long before this time!"

It would be idle to suppose that Peter Cartwright was a mere
visionary or dreamer.  Nothing could be farther from the truth.
He was abundantly possessed with what, in Western parlance, is
known as "horse sense."  He was a student of men, and kept in close
touch with the affairs of this world.  His shrewdness, no less than
his courage, was a proverb in his day.  Upon one occasion, at
the beginning of his sermon before a large audience, he was more
than once interrupted by the persistent but ineffectual attempt of
a saintly old sister to shout.  Annoyed at length, turning to her he
said:  "Dear sister, never shout as a matter of duty; when you
can't help it, then shout; _but never shout as a mere matter of
duty!"_

At a camp-meeting on the banks of the Cumberland in the early years
of the last century, an attempt was made by a band of desperadoes to
create a disturbance.  To this end their leader, a burly ruffian, stalked
to the front of the pulpit, and with an oath commanded Cartwright to
"dry up."  Suspending divine service for a few minutes, and laying
aside his coat, the preacher descended from the pulpit and springing
upon the intruder, felled him to the earth and belabored him until
the wretch begged for mercy.  The precious boon was withheld until
the now penitent disturber, after promising to repent, had been
given the humblest seat in the "amen corner."  This all satisfactorily
completed, and his garment replaced, the minister, scarcely ruffled
by the trifling incident, re-entered the pulpit, and with the words,
"As I was saying, brethren, when interrupted," continued his
discourse.

This little sketch would be unpardonably incomplete if the important
fact were withheld that Peter Cartwright had a relish for politics,
as well as for salvation.  He was more than once a member of the
General Assembly of Illinois, and be it said to his eternal honor his
speech and vote were ever on the side of whatever conduced to
the best interests of the State.  In him the cause of education,
and the asylums for the unfortunate, had ever an earnest advocate.

Though many years his senior, he was the contemporary of Abraham
Lincoln, and a resident of the same county.  Mr. Lincoln was, in
1846, the Whig candidate for Representative in Congress.  The
district was of immense area, embracing many counties of Central
Illinois.  Newspapers were scarce, and the old-time custom of joint
discussions between opposing candidates for high office were still
in vogue.  Mr. Lincoln's unsuccessful competitor was none other
than the subject of this article.  The great Whig leader and his
Democratic antagonist--"My friend the Parson," as Mr. Lincoln
familiarly called him--were soon engaged in joint debate.  It is
to be regretted that there is no record of these debates.  There
is probably no man now living who heard them.  But what rare reading
they would be at this day, if happily they had been preserved.
The earnest, inflexible parson,--even then "standing upon the
Western slope,"--backed by his party, then dominant in the national
government, upon the one side; the comparatively youthful lawyer, whose
fame was yet to fill the world, upon the other.  No doubt, daily
upon "the stump" and at night at the village taverns, the changes
were rung upon the then all-absorbing subjects, the Walker Tariff,
the War with Mexico, and the Wilmot Proviso.  These questions belong
now to the domain of history; as do indeed issues of far greater
consequence, upon which Lincoln and an antagonist more formidable than
Cartwright crossed swords a dozen years later.

At the Democratic State Convention, which assembled in Springfield
in the early spring of 1860, a resolution instructing the Illinois
delegates to support Stephen A. Douglas for nomination to the
Presidency at the approaching National Convention was adopted amidst
great enthusiasm.  Immediately upon its adoption, a delegate called
attention to the fact that the venerable Peter Cartwright was
present, and said he knew the Convention would be glad to hear a
word from him.  Immediately "Cartwright," "Cartwright," "Cartwright,"
was heard from all parts of the chamber.  From his seat, surrounded
by the Sangamon County delegates, near the central part of the
hall, Mr. Cartwright arose, and with deep emotion, and scarcely
audible voice, began:

"My friends and fellow-citizens, I am happy to be with you on
the present occasion.  My sun is low down upon the horizon, and
the days of my pilgrimage are almost numbered.  I have lived in
Illinois during the entire period of its history as a State.  I
have watched with tender interest its marvellous growth from its
feeble condition as a Territory, until it has reached its
present splendor as a State.  I have travelled over its prairies,
slept with only the canopy of heaven for a covering; I have followed
the trail of the Indians, fought the desperadoes, swam the rivers,
threaded the almost pathless forests, in order that I might carry the
tidings of the blessed Gospel to the loneliest cabin upon the
border.  Yes, my friends, for seventy long years, amid appalling
difficulties and dangers, I have waged an incessant warfare against
the world, the flesh, the devil, _and all the other enemies of the
Democratic party!"_



XVIII
CLEVELAND AS I KNEW HIM

CLEVELAND'S SPEECH ACCEPTING HIS NOMINATION--MR. BLAINE'S FRUITLESS
TOUR AS A CANDIDATE--CLEVELAND'S INSIGHT INTO HUMAN CHARACTER--HIS
TARIFF-REDUCTION MESSAGE--WITHDRAWAL OF THE HAWAIIAN ANNEXATION
TREATY--HIS VENEZUELAN MISSION--HIS ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE SCIENCE OF
GOVERNMENT--HIS QUALIFICATIONS FOR SOCIAL LIFE AND FOR SERVING THE
COUNTRY.

Upon the adjournment of the Democratic National Convention of 1884,
which had nominated Mr. Cleveland for the Presidency, in company
with other delegates I visited him at the Executive Mansion at
Albany, New York.  The Hon. William F. Vilas was the chairman of
our committee, and the purpose of the visit to notify Mr. Cleveland,
officially, of his nomination to the great office.  I saw him then
for the first time.

He was then Governor of New York, having been but recently elected
by an unprecedented majority.  I recall him distinctly on this
occasion as he responded to the eloquent speech of Colonel Vilas.
Standing near him at the time were three men well known at a later
date as members of his cabinet and his closest friends, Daniel
Manning, William C. Whitney, and Daniel S. Lamont.

Cleveland's response to the speech of notification was in dignified,
forceful phrase, and at once challenged public attention and gave the
keynote to the memorable contest which immediately followed.  In
some of its aspects it was a Presidential struggle the like of
which we may not again witness.  As the day of election drew near,
the excitement increased in intensity, and no efforts that gave
hopes of success were spared by the opposing party managers.

The defection from his ranks by what in campaign publications of
the day was known as the "mugwump" element, caused Mr. Blaine to
venture upon a hazardous tour of speech-making.  Enthusiastic
audiences gathered around the brilliant Republican candidate during
his Western tour.  This, however, as the sequel showed, was time
and energy wasted; Illinois and Ohio were safely in the Republican
column, and the real battle-ground was New York state.  Homeward
bound at length from this strenuous pilgrimage demanded by no party
necessity, Mr. Blaine was fated during his brief sojourn in New
York to listen to the now historical words of Burchard, words which
in all human probability proved the political undoing of the
candidate to whom, with the best intentions, they were earnestly
addressed.

New York, as has been its wont before and since, proved the pivotal
State.  For many days after the election the result was still in
doubt.  Party feeling was intense, and the result hinged upon
the narrow margin in the vote of Blaine and Cleveland in one State.

During the strenuous days that passed from the election until
the authoritative announcement of the result, one man alone, amid the
high tide of party passion, remained calm.  To all appearances
unmoved, Grover Cleveland sat in his office day after day, no detail
of official duty failing to receive his careful attention.  The
fact just stated is explanatory of much in his subsequent career.

When first nominated for the Presidency, Mr. Cleveland had
little personal knowledge of public men outside of his own State.
How rapidly he acquired the information necessary to a successful
administration of the government was indeed a marvel.  It was no
"Cleveland luck" or haphazard chance that called into his first Cabinet
such men as Bayard, Manning, Garland, Vilas, and Whitney.  It can safely
be asserted that Mr. Cleveland was an excellent judge of men and of
their capacity for the particular work assigned them.  As if by
intuition, he thoroughly understood after a single interview the men
with whom he was brought in contact.  As an object lesson a better
appointment to high office has rarely been made than that of Fuller
to the chief justiceship of the great court.  No less fortunate was
his selection of Vilas to the responsible position of Postmaster-General.
And yet both of these gentlemen were personally strangers to Mr. Cleveland
when he was first named for the Presidency.  His appointments to important
diplomatic positions likewise strikingly illustrated his aptness
in forming a correct estimate of men from whom his appointees were
to be chosen.

No incumbent of the Presidency was ever less of a time-server than
Cleveland.  "Expediency" was a word scarcely known to his vocabulary.
Recognizing alike the dignity and responsibility of the great
office, he was in the highest degree self-reliant.  None the less he
at all times availed himself of the wise counsel of his official
advisers.  In matters falling within their especial province their
determination was, except in rare instances, conclusive.  In no
sense was his mind closed against the timely counsel of his friends.
Far from being opinionated, in the offensive sense of the word, the
ultimate determination, however, was after "having taken counsel
from himself."

The incident contributing perhaps more than any other to his defeat
in 1888 was his tariff-reduction message to Congress one year prior
to that election.  An abler state paper has rarely been put forth.
It was a clear, succinct presentation of existing economic conditions;
in very truth an unanswerable argument for tariff reduction.  It
is not yet forgotten how promptly this message was denounced by
the entire opposition press as a "free-trade manifesto," and how
this cry increased in voice and volume until the close of the
Presidential contest.  And yet, in sending this message to Congress,
Mr. Cleveland was entirely consistent with himself.  Its utterances
were in clear accord with the platform upon which he had been
nominated and with his letter of acceptance.  It is one of the
anomalies of politics that the clear-cut sentences measurably
instrumental in compassing his defeat in 1888, were upon the banners
of his triumphant partisans in the campaign of 1892.

In the year last named, Mr. Cleveland was for the third time the
candidate of his party for the Presidency.  His nomination, by a
two-thirds vote, was upon the first ballot, and marked an era in
the history of national conventions.  His candidacy was bitterly
antagonized by the delegation from his own State, his name being
presented by Governor Abbott of New Jersey.  It is a fact of
much significance that neither in the platform upon which he was
nominated, nor in the letter of acceptance, was there the slightest
departure from his emphatic utterances upon the tariff in the
memorable message of 1887.  The salient issues of the campaign were
"tariff reform" and hostility to the then pending "Force bill."
From first to last Mr. Cleveland was in close consultation with
the leaders of his party and advised as to every detail of the
contest.  The result was a vindication of his former administration
and an unmistakable endorsement of the tenets of the Democratic
faith.

In this brief sketch, there can be but slight reference to the
important questions which now for four years engaged his attention.
Almost his first official act after his second inauguration was
the withdrawal from the Senate of the Hawaiian Annexation Treaty
recently submitted by President Harrison for ratification.  Firmly
believing that the late United States Minister to the unfortunate island
had at least acquiesced in the overthrow of the Hawaiian Government,
President Cleveland, with the hope that he might measurably repair
the wrong, recalled the Annexation Treaty, as stated.  In his
message of withdrawal were the words:  "A great wrong has been done
to a feeble and independent State."  This almost forgotten incident
is now recalled only to emphasize the spirit of justice that
characterized his dealings with foreign Governments.

And yet history will truly say of him that, while just to other
Governments, no President has more firmly maintained the rights of
his own.  This assertion finds verification in the Venezuelan
message, which, for the moment, almost startled the country.  By
many it was for the time believed to be the prelude to war.  In
very truth, as the sequel proved, it was a message of peace.  It
was a critical moment, and the necessity imperative for prompt,
decisive action.  If the Monroe Doctrine was to be maintained,
Great Britain could not be permitted arbitrarily to divest Venezuela
of any portion of her territory.  The arbitration proposed by
President Cleveland, resulting in peaceable adjustment, established
what we may well believe will prove an enduring precedent.  One
sentence of the memorable message is worthy of remembrance by
the oncoming generations:  "The Monroe Doctrine was intended to
apply to every stage of our national life, and cannot become obsolete
while our Republic endures."

I had excellent opportunities to know Mr. Cleveland.  I was a member
of the first and third conventions which named him for the Presidency,
and actively engaged in both the contests that resulted in his
election.  As assistant Postmaster-General during his first term, and
Vice-President during the second, I was often "the neighbor to his
counsels."  I am confident that a more conscientious, painstaking official
never filled public station.  In his appointments to office his
chief aim was to subserve the public interests by judicious
selections.  The question of rewarding party service, while by no
means ignored, was immeasurably subordinate to that of the integrity
and efficiency of the applicant.  He was patriotic to the core,
and it was his earnest desire that the last vestige of legislation
inimical to the Southern States should pass from the statute books.