But to continue with what is personal to myself and the delegation from Massachusetts. When I got back to the Capitol, as I went into the cloak-room of the Senate to leave my hat, Don Cameron sat there surrounded by a group of interested listeners. He was relating to them the story of the great contest. As I approached the group he looked up and said:

"There comes Massachusetts. There were twenty-three men from Massachusetts who went there to keep six hundred men from doing what they wanted to. And, by God, they did it."

A few Sundays after his inauguration, during the spring session of the Senate, President Garfield invited Mrs. Hoar and myself to dinner at the White House. President Hopkins, his old friend and teacher, and Mrs. Hopkins were there. There were no other guests, except Judge Nott and his wife, President Hopkins's daughter, President Garfield's mother, and, I think, Mr. Archibald Hopkins, President Hopkins's son. President Garfield asked me to remain after President Hopkins had taken his leave. I had a long and interesting conversation with him about his plans and purposes, and especially the difficulties which were then showing themselves in regard to the great New York appointments. Before I went upstairs, he gave his arm to my wife and walked with her about the East room. He said to her: "I hope I may live to repay your husband for all he has done for me." Perhaps I am indulging in an unpardonable vanity in relating this testimony of two of the most interested parties and most competent observers as to the value of the work of the Massachusetts delegation in that convention.

I hope that somewhere before I die I may put on record my estimate of James A. Garfield, when I can say some things which ought to be said, and for which there is not room in this book and was not room in the eulogy delivered just after his death. It is the fashion, even among his friends, to speak of him as a person timid if not time-serving, and as easily swayed and moulded by a strong will. I have heard men who knew him very well say that when he led the House on the Republican side, and had led his party into a position which excited sharp conflict, they never could be sure that he would not get wrong at the last moment, or have some private understanding with the Democrats and leave his own side in the lurch. This was attributed to moral timidity. I feel very sure that this is a great mistake. Garfield's hesitation, want of certainty in his convictions, liability to change his position suddenly, were in my opinion the result of intellectual hesitation and of a habit of going down to the roots of his subject before he made up his mind. He had a great deference for other men's opinions. When, after he had expressed his opinion, some strong and positive man came to him with a confident utterance of a different opinion, unless Garfield had gone to the bottom of the subject himself, he was very likely to defer, to hesitate, to think himself mistaken. But when he had had time and had thought the thing out and made up his mind, nobody and no consideration of personal interest or advantage would stir him an inch. I suppose his courage and genius as a soldier have never been questioned. He performed some very important military exploits. He gave a thorough investigation into the military conditions of Tennessee and Kentucky, and his letter to the Department of War accomplished a great deal toward putting things in a better way. He was a thorough lover of his country. He hesitated long as to the doctrine of protection, and undoubtedly made some inconsistent utterances before he took the ground which he held at last. But he studied the financial question, especially the great subjects of currency and the standard of value, to the very bottom. He stood like a rock when Ohio and the whole West seemed to be going against him, and when the statesmanship even of John Sherman was of the willow and not of the oak. When his District Convention met and passed resolutions in favor of paying interest on the Government bonds with paper, Garfield declared that he would not take the nomination on such a platform. The good fight he made in Ohio turned the scale in that great struggle. I do not believe he wold have been a tool or servant in the Presidency. He would have mastered for himself the great subjects to be dealt with in our foreign policy, as well as in domestic administration and legislation. His will would, in my opinion, if he had been spared to us, have been the dominant will in our Government for eight fortunate and happy years. Next to the assassination of Lincoln, his death was the greatest national misfortune ever caused to this country by the loss of a single life.

I have not the slightest respect for the suggestion that General Garfield in the least violated his honor or good faith in consenting to accept the nomination after he had been elected as a delegate in the interest of Mr. Sherman. The office of the President is not personal. There can be no such thing as a personal claim upon it, or a personal obligation in regard to it. President Garfield got no advantage whatever from the fact that he had favored Mr. Sherman. Mr. Sherman's nomination was an impossibility from the beginning. That the majority of the convention united upon Garfield was due to the fact that he had no enemies or antagonists in the convention or among the people and, to some degree undoubtedly, also to the admiration felt by his fellow-delegates for the tact, sense and good nature which he showed in its discussions— qualities which were in marked contrast with those of his very able and powerful antagonist, Mr. Conkling.

Beside, when the voting for Garfield in the Convention began, a dispatch was received from Mr. Sherman urging his friends to unite in Garfield's support. That was before Garfield had taken any action, except an earnest attempt to decline the nomination which, as I have already stated, was suppressed by a peremptory exercise of the authority of the chair.

I have given more than once my estimate of James A. Garfield, although not as fully as I should like. Shortly after his death I delivered a eulogy before the people of Worcester at the request of the City Government. I was asked by John Sherman, who more than anybody else had the matter in charge, to deliver the eulogy before the two Houses of Congress. But Mr. Sherman had spoken without due authority. The Committee of the two Houses determined to invite Mr. Blaine, then Secretary of State. That arrangement was required by every consideration of propriety, and was in all respects the best possible. Mr. Blaine's address on Garfield is one of the treasures of our literature. It would have been a great public misfortune if that noble oration had been lost to the world.

I knew Garfield very intimately. For six of the eight years I served in the House with him my seat was so near his that we could converse with each other in whispers. By a singular chapter of accidents our families had been closely associated in several generations, although neither of us knew it until long after our friendship began.

The land of Captain John Sherman and the land of Captain John Prescott, both my ancestors on the mother's side, adjoined the land of Edward Garfield, the ancestor of the President, in Watertown. His land lay on both sides of what is now the line between Waltham and Watertown. Captain Benjamin Garfield, who may be properly called the founder of Waltham, was the leader of an earnest and protracted controversy in Watertown in which my great-great-grandfather, Joseph Sherman, was leader on the other side.

Lieutenant Thomas Garfield, another of the President's ancestors in the direct line, built a house in that part of Watertown, afterward Weston, which later still was incorporated with parts of Concord and Lexington as the town of Lincoln. He and his son Thomas were among the first incorporators, of whom my great-grandfather, John Hoar, was also one. Thomas Garfield built a house now standing at the end of a grass- grown lane about forty rods from the high road leading from Lincoln to Waltham and about two miles south from the centre of Lincoln. It is a secluded spot of great beauty. The house, a square, unpainted, two-story house with a great chimney in the middle, stands surrounded by old elms and apple trees, in a tract of fertile meadow, with the Lincoln hill in the distance. This estate passed from Lieutenant Thomas Garfield to his son Thomas, Jr., from him to his daughter Rebecca, wife of David Fiske, from her to her son Elijah Fiske, and from him to his children. One of these children married my cousin. I attended the wedding in my boyhood in the old Garfield house.

Abram Garfield, son of the second Thomas, the President's great-uncle, from whom his middle name came to him, was a soldier at Concord Bridge on the 19th of April, 1775, in the Lincoln Company of which my grandfather, Samuel Hoar, was Lieutenant and my two great-grandfathers served as privates. The depositions of Abram Garfield and John Hoar as to the facts of the Concord fight were taken with others by the patriots and sent to England for their vindication. This Abram Garfield died in the summer of 1775, a few months after the battle at Concord. His grave, with that of his father and grandfather, the President's direct ancestors, is close to the graves of my own ancestors in the Lincoln burial-ground.

The President's great-grandfather settled in Westminster. His land was close by the land of my wife's great-grandfather, and not far from the spot where her father was born. His house is still standing in Westminster. My grandfather's uncle, Daniel Hoar, was one of the founders of that town and owned land not far off.

So our friendship came by lawful inheritance. I discovered myself many of these facts relating to his ancestry which had been previously unknown to him. I have from him a letter written the day before he was assassinated in which he promises after visiting Williams College and the White Mountains to meet me at Concord and to spend the night with my brother there and visit the dwelling and burial places of his ancestors in Lincoln and then to come to Worcester as my guest.

James A. Garfield was a man of indefatigable industry and vast information. He seemed constantly possessed by an intelligent curiosity in regard to all subjects. He had a tenacious memory. Its stores were always ready at hand for his use on all occasions. There has been no man in public life in my time, except Charles Sumner, who was always so glad to render any service in his power to literature and science. He was a great friend of the Congressional Library, and helped largely to increase its appropriations. I got his powerful aid in procuring the purchase of the Margry papers, at the instance of Parkman, the historian.

During Garfield's service in the House he was the leader of its best thought. Everything he did and said manifested the serious, reverent love of excellence. He was ever grave, earnest, addressing himself only to the reason and conscience of his auditors. You will search his speeches in vain for an appeal to a base motive or an evil passion. He was remarkably independent in forming his judgments and inflexible in adhering to them on all grand and essential questions. His friend and Commander, General Thomas, whose stubborn courage saved the day in the battle for the possession of Tennessee, was well called The Rock of Chickamauga. In the greater battle in 1876 for the Nation's honor Garfield well deserves to be called The Rock of Ohio. There has been hardly any single service to this country in recent times greater than that rendered by him when he stood against the fiat money movement in Ohio.

CHAPTER XXIX FOUR NATIONAL CONVENTIONS 1884

It happened to me again to be put at the head of the Massachusetts delegation in the convention of 1884. The leading candidates were Mr. Blaine and President Arthur. Mr. Arthur had, in many respects, made a very satisfactory President. He was a man of pleasant manners and skilled in the subtle ways of New York politicians. He had been one of the chief representatives of a faction in the Republican Party, and he never seemed able to shake off the influences which had surrounded him before his election. At a dinner shortly after he was chosen Vice-President, he made an apparently approving allusion to what he called the use of soap, which was understood to mean the use of money for corrupt purposes. He made a fatal mistake, as it always seemed to me, in permitting the resignation of President Garfield's Cabinet and filling their places with men who, like himself, belonged to the Grant faction. If he had said that he would not allow the act of an assassin to make a change in the forces that were to control the Administration so far as could be helped and that he would carry into effect the purposes of his predecessor, wherever he could in conscience do so, he would have maintained himself in the public esteem. But that was not his only mistake. Inconsiderately he lent himself to the popular prejudice against the policy of river and harbor improvements, and, in vetoing a bill passed by large majorities in both Houses of Congress, he sent in a message in which he said in substance that the more corrupt the measure the more votes it was likely to get in Congress. When in the next winter he was asked to specify the objectionable items in the bill he had vetoed, which appropriated about $18,000,000, he was able to point out less than five per cent. of all the appropriations which he could say he thought were for purposes not required by the interests of international or interstate commerce. And his claim was thoroughly refuted even in regard to the items which he specified. He also made some very bad appointments, which deeply offended the best Republican sentiment in many of the States. It is a little singular that the appointment of the Collector of the Port of Boston should have cost two Presidents of the United States a renomination. Yet so it is. The old feeling in Massachusetts that it was not, on the whole, desirable to nominate Mr. Blaine existed in great strength. The business men liked Arthur. They thought their interests were safe with him. But the honest Republican sentiment of Massachusetts was deeply outraged by the appointment to the office of Collector of Boston, of Mr. Roland Worthington, against the protest of her Senators and Representatives in Congress. He had been known only as an unscrupulous supporter of General Butler, and as the editor of a scurrilous newspaper which bitterly attacked the opponents of that person even where they were honest and trusted Republicans. To give this place to Mr. Worthington the President refused to reappoint Mr. Beard, who had made an admirable Collector, and who was supported by a large majority of the best men of Boston. It was believed that this appointment had been made in exchange for assurances of General Butler's support in the approaching election. Worthington made a poor Collector, and, at the State election after his appointment, voted for Butler against the candidate of the Republican Party. But for the indignation caused by this appointment, I think the delegation from Massachusetts, with three exceptions, would have supported Mr. Arthur for reelection. There would have been no movement for Mr. Edmunds, and but for that movement Mr. Arthur would have received the Republican nomination. Upon the final ballot the vote of Massachusetts was seven for Arthur, three for Blaine and eighteen for Edmunds.

A somewhat interesting incident occurred which shows the depth of a feeling, which I think was largely a prejudice, which is still manifesting itself as a disturbing element in American politics. There was a great desire on the part of those who were opposed to both Arthur and Blaine, to find a candidate upon whom they could unite, of such popularity and national distinction as to make it impossible for the managers for these candidates to hold their forces together. We thought that General Sherman was the person that we wanted. It was known that he had written a letter to Mr. Blaine declining to have his name used, and that a telegram had been received from him by a delegate during the session of the convention to the same effect. But it was thought that if he were once nominated he would find it impossible to decline, and that his previous refusal would be an element of strength and not of weakness in the country. After the adjournment, which was at 11:45 A. M., on Friday, June 6, the day before the balloting, I made an arrangement to meet Mr. George William Curtis, the Chairman of the New York delegation, and one or two other gentlemen of the same way of thinking, from one or two other States, and we agreed that when the convention came in again we would cast the votes of our delegates who agreed with us for General Sherman. I had been authorized by a large majority of the Massachusetts delegation to have this interview, and I knew that I represented their opinions, although they had not, all of them, spoken to me about General Sherman. When I got back to the next meeting of the convention, I made known to them what I had done. I was told by several of them that they would stand by me, but that it would cause great dissatisfaction when they got home.

"What is the matter?" I said. "Our people do not want a Father Confessor in the White House," was the answer. Although General Sherman was a Protestant, it is well known that his wife was a Catholic. Soon after, Mr. Curtis came over to my seat and said: "Mr. Hoar, I cannot carry out our agreement." "What is the matter?" said I. "There is an insurrection in the New York delegation," was his reply. "They do not want a Father Confessor in the White House." So we agreed we should have to give it up. When I came back to Washington, I called at John Sherman's house and talked over the convention with him. I told him the story I have just related. He said he was not surprised, and that he believed the unwillingness to have the religious faith of his wife made matter of public discussion had a good deal to do with his brother's refusal to permit himself to be a candidate.

While the convention of 1884 did not nominate the candidate favored by the Republicans of Massachusetts, the action of the State, in my opinion, was decisive in defeating the nomination of President Arthur. But for that there would have been no movement for Edmunds, and his support would have gone to the President. Mr. Blaine, who was nominated, was defeated at the election. The event proved him a much stronger candidate than I had supposed, and his subsequent career in the Department of State, I believe, satisfied a majority of his countrymen that he would have made an able and discreet President. I suppose it would hardly be denied now by persons acquainted with the details of the management of the Democratic campaign, at any rate I have heard the fact admitted by several very distinguished Democrats, members of the Senate of the United States, that the plurality of the vote of New York was really cast for Mr. Blaine, and that he was unjustly deprived of election by the fraud at Long Island City by which votes cast for the Butler Electoral Ticket were counted for Cleveland. I suppose also that but for the utterances of a foolish clergyman named Burchard, Mr. Blaine's majority in that State would have been so large that these frauds would have been ineffectual.

CHAPTER XXX FOUR NATIONAL CONVENTIONS 1888

In 1888 there was a very strong, almost irresistible feeling among Republicans in the country that Blaine should be put in nomination again, although he had peremptorily and publicly refused to be a candidate. He was travelling abroad during that year. His mental vigor was unabated, as was shown by his answer to Cleveland's free trade message, which was cabled across the ocean and reached the people almost as soon as the message. But the disease of which he afterward died was then upon him, as was known to some few of his intimate friends. Besides that, he had had an attack at Milan, which deprived him for a good while of the use of his limbs on one side. In 1892 I was in the care, at Milan, of a man who I suppose was the most eminent physician in the north of Italy, Dr. Fornoni, who gave me an account of Mr. Blaine's illness in the very apartments where I was ill, and which Blaine had occupied before me. But when the convention came together they were so eager to nominate Blaine that he was obliged to send another cable, I think, from Paris, insisting that his wishes should be respected. There was a great diversity of opinion as to candidates, but little of the eager antagonism that had characterized the preceding convention. The Republican Party had been sobered a good deal by four years of adversity. The delegates from Massachusetts where:

At Large.—George F. Hoar, Worcester; Henry S. Hyde, West Springfield; Frederick L. Burden, North Attleboro; Alanson W. Beard, Boston.

District.—Frank S. Stevens, Swansea; Jonathan Bourne, New Bedford; William H. Bent, Taunton; Eben L. Ripley, Hingham; Arthur W. Tufts, Boston; Edward P. Wilbur, Boston; Jesse M. Gove, Boston; Charles J. Noyes, Boston; Edward D. Hayden, Woburn; Elmer H. Capen, Somerville; William B. Littlefield, Lynn; Samuel W. McCall, Winchester; William Cogswell, Salem; William E. Blunt, Haverhill; Joseph L. Sargent, Dracut; George S. Merrill, Lawrence; J. Henry Gould, Medford; David Farquhar, Newton; William A. Gile, Worcester; George L. Gibbs, Northbridge; John W. Wheeler, Orange; John G. Mackintosh, Holyoke; Emerson Gaylord, Chicopee; and William M. Prince, Pittsfield.

I was very desirous that the vote of Massachusetts should be given to John Sherman. He was, except Mr. Blaine, unquestionably the most distinguished living Republican statesman. He had been an able champion of the opinions which the Republicans of Massachusetts held, and of the policies under which her special industries had been fostered. To nominate him would be to go back to the early habit of placing the greatest and wisest statesmen of the country in its highest offices. But I could not get the majority of the Massachusetts delegation to come to my way of thinking. General Coggswell, a very able and accomplished member of the House of Representatives, and Mr. Edward D. Hayden, also a member of the House—a service which he left greatly to the regret of his own constituents and the people of the State—seemed to have very strong objections indeed to Mr. Sherman. The delegation very kindly offered before the first ballot, and again just before the fourth or fifth ballot, to present my name as the candidate of Massachusetts. It would have been a very great honor to have received such a vote from Massachusetts. I was told also by gentlemen from other States, who spoke to me about it, that I should have had a considerable vote from other parts of the country. I had quite a number of very intimate friends in the convention from States outside of Massachusetts. I thought then, and think now, though that is a matter of conjecture, that I should have got about seventy votes. But I thought my nomination out of the question. I thought also that it would be utterly inexpedient, if it could be accomplished. And I thought also that the office of a Senator from Massachusetts would be more agreeable to me, and better adapted to my capacity than that of the President of the United States. Still the temptation to get the high compliment and honor of such a vote was very strong indeed. But there were thirteen of our delegation of twenty-eight, who were willing to vote with me for Mr. Sherman. If I had consented to the subtraction of their votes from his column on the first ballot, it would have made a serious diminution of his strength.

If I had consented to the same thing on a later ballot it would have put him in the position of having his forces diminishing and falling away. I thought I ought not, for a mere empty honor to myself, to permit such an injury to be inflicted upon him, although I confess I did not then think his nomination likely. But while the Massachusetts delegation does not seem to me to have exerted a very decisive influence upon the result of that convention, it came very near it. After several ineffectual ballotings, in which the votes of the different States were divided among several candidates, the convention took a recess at twelve o'clock to four o'clock of the same day. Immediately a meeting was called by a number of gentlemen representing different delegations in a room in the building where the convention was held, for consultation, and to see if they could agree upon a candidate. The Massachusetts delegation had authorized me to cast their vote as a unit for any candidate whom I should think best, whom sixteen of the delegates— being one more than a majority—approved. I had ascertained their opinion. While as I said there were but thirteen at most who would support Sherman, considerably more than sixteen were willing to support either Harrison or Allison, and perhaps one or two others, who had been prominently mentioned, including, I think, Mr. Depew, although of that I am not certain. We met as I said. The New York delegation had authorized its vote to be cast unanimously for any person on whom the four delegates at large, Platt, Miller, Depew and Hiscock, representing different shades of opinion in the Republican Party of that State, should agree. Three of these gentlemen, Platt, Miller and Hiscock, were present at the meeting. Mr. Quay, Chairman of the Pennsylvania delegation, was also authorized to cast the vote of the entire delegation as he should think fit. Mr. Spooner of Wisconsin, Chairman of the Wisconsin delegation, was present with a like authority. Mr. Farwell, Chairman of the Illinois delegation, was present with a like authority from his State. Mr. Clarkson, Chairman of the Iowa delegation, was present with authority to vote for Mr. Allison from the beginning. De Young, of California, thought he could speak for his people, though I believe without claiming authority from them. Filley, of Missouri, was also present. There were several other gentlemen of influence, though not all of them delegates, and not all of them entitled to speak for their States, but feeling able to assure the company that their States would accede to whatever agreement might be made there. The names of several candidates were discussed. I made a very earnest speech in favor of Mr. Allison, setting forth what I thought were the qualities that would make him a popular candidate, and would make him an able and wise President.

Finally, all agreed that their States should vote for Mr. Allison when the convention came in in the afternoon. Depew, as I have said, was absent. But his three colleagues said there could be no doubt that he would agree to their action, and there would be no difficulty about New York. We thought it best as a matter of precaution, to meet again a half-hour before the coming in of the convention, to make sure the thing was to go through all right. I suppose that everybody in that room when he left it felt as certain as of any event in the future that Mr. Allison would be nominated in the convention.

But when we met at the time fixed, the three delegates at large from New York said they were sorry they could not carry out their engagement. Mr. Depew, who had been supported as a candidate by his State in the earlier ballots, had made a speech withdrawing his name. But when the action of the meeting was reported to him, he said he had been compelled to withdraw by the opposition of the Agrarian element, which was hostile to railroads. He was then President of the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad Company. He said that his opposition to him came largely from Iowa, and from the Northwest, where was found the chief support of Allison; that while he had withdrawn his own name, he would not so far submit to such an unreasonable and socialistic sentiment as to give his consent that it should dictate a candidate for the Republican Party. The three other delegates at large were therefore compelled to refuse their support to the arrangement which had been conditionally agreed upon, and the thing fell through. If it had gone on, New York, Illinois, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, Iowa, California, and perhaps Missouri, would have cast their votes unanimously for Allison, and his nomination would have been sure. I think no other person ever came so near the Presidency of the United States, and missed it.

The result was the nomination of Mr. Harrison. It was a nomination quite agreeable to me. I had sat near him in the Senate for six years, my seat only separated from his by that of John Sherman, who, for a large part of the time, had been President pro tempore. So Sherman's seat was not then occupied and Harrison and I were next neighbors. I had become very intimate with him, and had learned to respect him highly as a very able, upright and wise man, although he developed, as President, an ability which I think his most intimate friends had not known before. Our relations then, and afterward, were exceedingly cordial. He was a wise, pure, upright and able President, and an eloquent orator, capable of uttering great truths in a great way, and able to bring them home to the understanding and conviction of his countrymen. He lacked what gave Mr. Blaine so great a charm, the quality of an agreeable and gracious manner. He had little tact in dealing with individuals. If a man travelled three thousand miles across the continent to say something to President Harrison, he would find himself broken in upon two minutes after the conversation began with a lecture in which the views in opposition to his were vigorously, and, sometimes roughly, set forth. He did this even when he was of the same way of thinking and meant to grant the gentleman's request. Blaine would refuse a request in a way that would seem like doing a favor. Harrison would grant a request in a way which seemed as if he were denying it. An eminent Western Senator said to me once what, of course, was a great exaggeration, that if Harrison were to address an audience of ten thousand men, he would capture them all. But if each one of them were presented to him in private, he would make him his enemy.

However, in spite of all this the country was safe with him. While his hand was on the helm she would keep the course of safety, of honor, of glory, of prosperity, of republican liberty. There would be no fear for the future of the country if we were sure to have in the great office of President a succession of Benjamin Harrisons.

This fault of his is a fault apt to beset good and honest men, especially when they are under the burden of great anxieties and cares. Such men at such times are intent upon the object to be accomplished. They are not thinking of personal considerations, of making friends or allies, or of the impression they are making for themselves upon mankind. But they need to learn a lesson. It is a lesson which many of them learn very late in life, that many a good cause has been jeopardized or lost by this infirmity of men who are leaders on the righteous side. There is written on the walls of one of the great English schools a legend which I suppose has been there for seven hundred years: "Manners Makyth Man." It is a curious fact, however, that this legend illustrates a portrait of a pig.

But while public men ought to be made to see how great a thing this is, the people ought to learn how little a thing it is— how insignificant are these foibles, irritable temper, habits of personal discourtesy, impatience, even vanity and self- confidence, compared with the great things that concern the character, the welfare, and the glory of the State. I beg to assure my readers that I make these observations partly as a critic and partly as a penitent.

I wrote to Benjamin Harrison after the Presidential campaign of 1896, urging him to consent to come to the Senate from Indiana, citing the example of Presidents Adams and Johnson, both of whom came back to public life after they had been President, although Mr. Johnson did not live to render any service in the Senate.

In my letter I expressed my sense of the great value of what he had done in the campaign. In reply I got the following letter. Nobody who reads it will doubt that the man who wrote it had a kind and affectionate heart.

November 10, 1896 674 NORTH DELAWARE STREET, INDIANAPOLIS, IND.

My dear Senator:

It is very kind of you to take note of my work in the campaign, and I value very highly what you say of it—though your friendship has perhaps, in some degree, spoiled your judgment. I am thoroughly tired of the cares and excitements incident to public life in our country. To you I may say that the people of this state seem to be more strongly attached to me than ever. I never appear before an audience that I am not deeply moved by the demonstrations of the affectionate interest of my home people.

Possibly they would send me to the Senate this winter if I should intimate a willingness to take the place, but I do not feel that I can, and have said so.

If I could believe that any exigency in public affairs called for me, then my personal wishes would be subservient—but it is not so. My own belief is that as a free citizen I can do more towards giving a right direction to public affairs than I could as a Senator.

. . . . . . . . . . .

My wife joins me in the desire to be kindly remembered to Mrs. Hoar.

Most sincerely your friend, BENJAMIN HARRISON. Hon. George F. Hoar, Worcester, Mass.

I had a great many interesting experiences of Harrison's roughness of manner and honesty and kindness of heart, which it would not be right to relate here. But I may mention two or three.

When the term of General Corse, the Democratic Postmaster at Boston, expired, Mr. Dawes and I earnestly recommended that he should be reappointed. He was, with one or two exceptions, the most eminent living veteran of the Civil War. He was the hero of one of its noted exploits. "Hold the Fort" had made him famous in song and story. The business men of Boston, without distinction of party, were satisfied with him, and recommended that he be continued in the service. There was an association of the principal trades, nineteen in number, in which each trade had three representatives, making fifty- seven in all. Of these fifty-four were Republicans, and three were Democrats. Fifty-four, though not the same fifty-four, recommended the continuance of General Corse in the service. He was recommended by the Republican members from Boston in the Massachusetts Senate, and by most of those in the House, and by several of the Republican members of Congress, whose districts contained a part of the territory served by the office.

President Harrison almost angrily refused to reappoint Corse. He said that while Marshals were being murdered in Florida, and the execution of the law resisted, he would appoint no man to public office who either sympathized with such things, or belonged to a party that did not oppose and resist them. I said to him: "Mr. President, how do you reconcile this with your declaration that no man would be removed from public office for political reasons?" The President was quite angry, and showed his anger in his reply. I said: "Good morning, Mr. President," and took my leave, also quite angry. But in a moment or two I went back, and said: "Mr. President, if you think there is a man in the country who has a higher regard for you, or a more sincere desire for your success than I have, I will never come here again." Mr. Harrison said, very pleasantly, "I know that very well, Mr. Hoar." And the difference ended as quickly as it began.

President Harrison sent for me in a few days, and said he had made up his mind not to appoint Corse, but would appoint any Republican I would nominate. I gave a list of six names, of which that of Mayor Thomas H. Hart stood at the head. Next to him was that of Col. Horace Rockwell. Next to him was Wm. A. Russell. I selected Mr. Russell on account of his eminent business capacity, and also because I knew that both the President and Postmaster-General had great regard for him. I told him at the same time that I did not believe Mr. Russell would accept the office. Next to him was Samuel W. McCall, and the fifth name was that of John W. Candler. Next came Congressman Frank W. Rockwell. A messenger was sent to Boston that afternoon. He got there before daylight the next morning, and found Mr. Russell was absent on a long journey to the South. It was not thought the chances of his acceptance made it worth while to keep the office open. So it was offered to Mr. Hart, who accepted it.

Pretty soon afterward there came a vacancy in the United States Circuit Court for the First Judicial Circuit by the resignation of Judge Lowell. I desired to have Judge Putnam, of Maine, succeed him. He, too, was a Democrat. I did not know exactly what to do about it, after my experience in the post-office matter. So I saw Judge Gray of the Supreme Court, who had a high regard for Putnam, and asked him if he would be willing to recommend him to the President. Judge Gray said he would do it if the President applied to him for advice. But he was not willing to offer such advice unasked. He agreed, however, that I might say that Judge Lowell was about to resign, and that when the matter came up, if the President desired to know Judge Gray's opinion, he would be very happy to give it. The resignation took effect in the vacation of Congress. The President invited Judge Gray to come to see him, and determined to accept his advice. When I got to Washington in December, President Harrison sent for me and said: "Mr. Hoar, I have pretty much made up my mind to appoint Judge Putnam to the Circuit Court, if you approve." I said: "Mr. President, I heartily approve. But I shall look with some curiosity to see how you answer the excellent argument you made against the appointment of a Democrat to office when General Corse's term expired," to which Harrison burst out into hearty laughter; and both incidents closed.

When the bill for rebuilding the William and Mary College building, which had been destroyed during the war, was passed, President Tyler and several other gentlemen interested in the College, were very anxious lest the President should refuse to sign it. They came to Washington to ask me to go with them to see him. This I did. I told him the history of the College, giving a list of the famous men who were graduated from there. I spoke of the great affection that had inspired the people of Virginia for centuries, and reminded him that his own ancestor, General Washington's friend, General Benjamin Harrison of the Revolution, had been a child of the College, and I pointed out what a measure of reconcilement it would be. The President listened with a rather disgusted look, until I got through, and just as I rose to take my leave, said: "Mr. Hoar, have you got any reasons except sentimental ones?" I said I had no others, except those I had stated. The gentlemen went out very down-hearted, and said when they got out that of course he would veto the bill. I said: "I think I know the man pretty well, and I think there is more than an even chance that he will sign it," and he did.

Just before his term of office ended, he was in the President's Room, at the Capitol, to dispose of bills when there was not time to take them to the White House before the hour of twelve o'clock, on the 4th of March. Many measures had been passed within an hour of the time of adjournment, among them a bill for the relief of the widow of Jefferson Davis. She had written a Memoir of her husband, on the sale of which it was understood she depended for her livelihood in her advancing years. But the publishers had neglected a technicality which, if the decision of one Circuit Judge were good law, made the copyright void. So she was at the mercy of her publishers, and it was feared that they meant to take advantage of the defect. She applied through General Gordon, then a member of the Senate, to Congress for relief. A bill passed the two Houses, which I had drawn, providing that where the copies required by law to be deposited in the Library of Congress, had not been so deposited within the time required by law, the author of the book might deposit them at a later time, and the copyright should not be rendered void. This was made a general law. Just before twelve o'clock, when the Senators were in their seats ready for the inauguration of President Harrison's successor, which was to take place in about ten minutes, General Gordon came to me in great distress, saying: "The Attorney-General says the President means to refuse to sign that bill and that he can do nothing with him. Can you help us?" I had devised the plan, and had got it through the Senate. I went into the President's Room with General Gordon and said to the President that I wanted to speak to him about that bill, and began my story when he broke in upon me, very uncivilly, and said: "We cannot pass laws to take care of hard individual cases." I said: "No, Mr. President, we cannot pass laws to take care of individual cases, but where a general law is just and proper, it is no objection to it that it also affords relief in a case of individual injustice." The President made some remark to the effect that the people of the North would not like that we should go out of our way to help the widow of Jefferson Davis. I had not told my story, nor stated my reasons. I said quite angrily: "Well, Mr. President, if you will not hear me, I will stop now." I made my bow and withdrew from the circle. The President called after me: "Mr. Hoar, I will hear you." Whereupon I told my story. But there was no sign of relenting upon his grim countenance. I went back to my seat with General Gordon, who had accompanied me. He tore off a piece of an order of exercises for the Inauguration, and handed it to a page, telling him to give it to a friend of Mrs. Davis, who was outside. He had written on it: "He won't sign the bill." Just after the page had departed, the Attorney-General came up and told us that the President had signed the bill. General Gordon called back the page. I asked him to give me the torn fragment of the order of exercises, on which he had written the message, which I have kept as a memorial of the transaction, and of him. Perhaps I may be pardoned for adding that General Gordon came to me just afterward with great emotion, and said, "Hoar, save my allegiance to the Democratic Party, I want you to know that you own me."

These stories may seem trifling. But such trifles sometimes give an idea of the character of men like Harrison more than their greater actions.

Benjamin Harrison many times thought rashly and spoke hastily. But he acted always, so far as I knew, under the impulse of a warm, kind and brave heart, and of a great and wise intellect.

Some of my Southern brethren have spoken of me with undeserved kindness in recent years, and they like to say that my heart has softened within the last few years, and that I have become more tolerant and less harsh and bigoted than I was of old. Some Northern papers have taken the same view. What I did to secure the rebuilding of the William and Mary building, and to establish the policy of restoring at National cost all the property of institutions of education, charity and religion destroyed at the South, both of which were in the beginning opposed by the almost unanimous sentiment of my party associates, was done in the first and second terms of my service in the House of Representatives, now thirty-five years ago. A Boston newspaper published a series of articles denouncing me as a bitter partisan and a bigoted and intolerant hater of the people of the South, some years ago. That very week I received a letter from Mrs. Jefferson Davis thanking me for what I had done to save her from privation in her old age; a telegram from the authorities of William and Mary College, thanking me for my service in accomplishing the rebuilding of the College; and a personal call from Judge Howell E. Jackson, of Tennessee, a Southern Democrat and Confederate, thanking me for what I had done toward procuring his appointment as Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. These things all happened in the same year, I believe, certainly in a very short time after I had done what I could to induce the reappointment of General Corse and the selection of Judge Putnam.

I freely admit that I have believed with all my heart and soul in the principles of the Republican Party. But I think there can be found few members of that party who have been less controlled in their public actions by violent partisanship than I have.

CHAPTER XXXI SATURDAY CLUB

In 1877, about the time of my election to the Senate, I was chosen a member of the famous Saturday Club. I always attended the meetings when I could be in Boston until after the death of my brother, when every man who was a member when I was chosen was dead, except Mr. Norton and Judge Gray and the younger Agassiz and Mr. Howells, and all of them had ceased to be constant attendants.

They used to meet at the Parker House in Boston once a month. Each member was at liberty to bring a guest.

I suppose there was never a merely social club with so many famous men in it or another where the conversation was more delightful since that to which Johnson and Burke and Goldsmith and Garrick and Reynolds belonged. There was plenty of sparkling wit and repartee and plenty of serious talk from philosophers and men of letters and science. Agassiz and Jeffries Wyman would sometimes debate Darwin's theory of evolution, which Darwin had confided to Asa Gray, another member, long before he made it known to the public. Holmes and Lowell contributed their wit, and Judge Hoar, whom Lowell declared the most brilliant man in conversation he had ever known, his shrewd Yankee sense and his marvellous store of anecdote. Some of the greatest members, notably Emerson and Longfellow and Whittier, were in general quite silent. But it was worth going a thousand miles if but to see one of them, or to hear the tones of his voice.

In the beginning I suspected Dr. Holmes of getting himself ready for the talk at the dinner as for a lecture. But I soon found that was utterly unjust. He was always as good if a new subject were brought up, which he could not have expected and which was wholly out of the range of his experience. His stream was abundant and sparkling and clear, whenever you might tap the cask. "Take another glass of wine, Judge," he said to one of the members who was starting near midnight to drive twenty miles in the cold rain of autumn, "Take another glass of wine; it will shorten the distance and double the prospect."

Dr. Holmes and I were born on the same day of the year, although I was seventeen years behind him. I sent to the delightful Autocrat the following note which reached him on the morning of his eightieth birthday.

WORCESTER, Aug. 28th, 89.

My dear Dr. Holmes: Let me add my salutation to those of so many of your countrymen, and so many who are not your countrymen, save in the republic of letters, on your birthday. You may well be amused to think how many political reputations have risen and set during your long and sunny reign. I was led to think of this by the fact that my own birthday also comes Aug. 29th. But alas!

Consules sunt quotannis et novi proconsules, Solus aut Rex aut Poeta non quotannis nascitur.

Of Governors and Senators we have an annual crop. But Autocrats and Poets come but once in eighty years. The asteroids must not envy the Georgium Sides his orbit of fourscore years, but rather rejoice in his beneficent and cheerful light, and in the certainty that it will keep on shining so long as there is a star in the sky.

I am Faithfully yours GEO. F. HOAR.

I got the following pleasant reply:

BEVERLY FARMS, MASS., August 30, 1889.

My dear Mr. Hoar,

Your note of felicitation upon my having reached that "length of days" which Wisdom, if I remember correctly, holds in her right hand, was the first I received and is the first I answer. Briefly, of course, but with heartfelt sincerity, for I hardly thought that you whose hand is on the wheel that governs the course of the Nation, would find time to remember so small an event as my birthday.

You cannot doubt that it was a great pleasure to me to read your name at the bottom of a page containing so much that it was kind in you to write and most agreeable for me to read.

Please accept my warmest and most grateful acknowledgments, and believe me

Faithfully yours, OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

NAMES OF THE MEMBERS OF THE SATURDAY CLUB WHEN I USED TO ATTEND ITS MEETINGS. Ralph Waldo Emerson, Francis Parkman, Edwin P. Whipple, Alexander Agassiz, Horatio Woodman, R. H. Dana, John S. Dwight, Wolcott Gibbs, Samuel G. Ward, Horace Gray, R. H. Dana, Jr., Edward N. Perkins, Louis Agassiz, Asa Gray, Benjamin Pierce, W. D. Howells, J. R. Lowell, Edmund Quincy, H. W. Longfellow, E. L. Godkin, J. L. Motley, William B. Rogers, C. C. Felton, William Amory, O. W. Holmes, James Freeman Clarke, E. R. Hoar, Phillips Brooks, William H. Prescott, William W. Story, John G. Whittier, George F. Hoar, Nathaniel Hawthorne, John Lowell, T. G. Appleton, O. W. Holmes, Jr., J. M. Forbes, Theodore Lyman, Charles E. Norton, William James, J. Elliot Cabot, Francis A. Walker, Samuel G. Howe, Charles F. Adams, Jr., Frederick H. Hedge, F. L. Olmsted, Estes Howe, R. Pumpelly, Charles Sumner, H. H. Richardson, Henry James, William Endicott, Jr., Martin Brimmer, William C. Endicott, James T. Fields, William W. Goodwin, S. W. Rowse, John C. Gray, John A. Andrew, Edward C. Pickering, Jeffries Wyman, Thomas B. Aldrich, E. W. Gurney, Edward W. Emerson, W. M. Hunt, Walbridge A. Field, Charles F. Adams, Sen., Henry L. Higginson, Charles W. Eliot, Edward W. Hooper, Charles C. Perkins, Henry P. Walcott.

CHAPTER XXXII THE WORCESTER FIRE SOCIETY

I have been for fifty years a member of another club called the Worcester Fire Society, some of whose members have had a remarkable relation to important events in the history of the country, of which the story will be worth recording. The club was founded in 1793, before the days of fire-engines, so that if the house of any of the members caught fire, his associates might come to the rescue with buckets and bags and bed-keys and other apparatus to put out the fire and save the property. But it long since became a mere social club. It is limited to thirty members.

The elder Levi Lincoln, Mr. Jefferson's intimate friend, confidential correspondent and Attorney-General in his Cabinet, organizer of the political movement which built up Mr. Jefferson's power in New England in the beginning of the last century, was not, I believe, a member of the Society himself. But his sons were, and many of his descendants and connections by marriage, certainly twelve or fifteen in all. When the office of Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States became vacant, by reason of the death of Mr. Justice William Cushing of Massachusetts, September 13, 1809, Levi Lincoln the elder was appointed, confirmed by the Senate and commissioned to fill the vacancy. Mr. Jefferson earnestly desired and urged his appointment. President Madison accompanied the offer of the office with a letter urging Mr. Lincoln to accept it in spite of a malady of the eyes from which he was suffering. Mr. Madison says he had got along very well as Attorney- General and he thinks he would find less inconvenience in discharging the duties of Judge. But Mr. Lincoln declined the office. He lived until 1820, retaining his health and vigor, except for the trouble with his eyes.

He was a very able man. He argued the case in which it was decided by the Supreme Court of Massachusetts that slavery was abolished in that State by the Constitution, in 1780.

Judge Story was appointed in his place. If Mr. Lincoln had accepted, it is likely that the great judicial fame of Judge Story would be lacking from American jurisprudence. Story would have devoted himself, probably, to professional or political life. At any rate he would not have been appointed to the Bench before 1820.

There can be no doubt that if Lincoln had accepted the seat upon the Bench, he would have been a thorn in the flesh of Marshall. He doubtless shared Mr. Jefferson's dislike for the great Chief Justice. The case of Dartmouth College v. Woodward was decided in 1819. There was in fact but one dissent, but any person who reads Shirley's book on the history of that case will be inclined to believe that without Judge Story Dartmouth College v. Woodward would not have been decided as it was.

More interesting and important is the relation, to Mr. Webster's seat in the Senate, of the second Levi Lincoln, son of him of whom I have just spoken, himself a member of the Worcester Club that has been referred to. He was Governor of Massachusetts, Judge of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, and a Member of the National House of Representatives. He was elected Senator of the United States by one branch of the Massachusetts Legislature when the term of Elijah H. Mills expired, March 3, 1827. There can be no doubt that if he had consented he would also have been elected by the other house. Mr. Webster was chosen at the next Session. But before he was elected he wrote very strongly urging Mr. Lincoln to accept the office. He said in his letter dated May 22, 1827:

"I beg to say that I see no way in which the public good can be so well promoted as by your consenting to go to the Senate. This is my own clear and decided opinion; it is the opinion, equally clear and decided, of intelligent and patriotic friends here, and I am able to add that it is also the decided opinion of all those friends elsewhere, whose judgment in such matters we should naturally regard. I believe I may say, without violating confidence, that it is the wish, entertained with some earnestness, of our friends at Washington, that you should consent to be Mr. Mills's successor. I need hardly add after what I have said that this is my own wish."

Mr. Lincoln felt constrained to decline, although the office would doubtless have been very agreeable to him, by reason of some statements he had made when elected Governor that he should not be a candidate for the Senate. Mr. Lincoln might, without dishonor or even indelicacy, have accepted the office in spite of those utterances. It was quite clear that all the persons who might be supposed to have acted upon them, desired his election when the time came on. But he was a man of scrupulous honor and did not mean to leave any room for the imputation that he did not regard what is due to "consistency of character," to use his own phrase. Now if Mr. Lincoln would have accepted the office it is likely that he would have held it until his death in 1868. At any rate it is quite certain that he would have held it until the political revolution of 1851.

It is quite clear to me that the office of Senator was at Mr. Lincoln's command. Observe that this was in 1827, and was the election for the term of six years, ending March 3, 1833. That includes the period of Jackson's great contest with Nullification, when Mr. Webster, with all his power, came to Jackson's support. It includes the time of the Reply to Hayne, and the great debate with Calhoun.

Daniel Webster, I need not say, would have been a great figure anywhere. But if Mr. Lincoln had acted otherwise, there would have been absent from our history and literature Webster's Reply to Hayne, the support of Jackson in the day of Nullification, the debate with Calhoun including the speech, "The Constitution not a Compact between Sovereign States," and the powerful attack on Jackson's assertion of power in the removal of the deposits. The speech on the President's Protest, with the wonderful passage describing the power of England, would not have been made.

If the sentiment of Patriotism, and love of Liberty and Union are to be dominant in this Republic, we cannot measure the value of the influence of Daniel Webster and the speech in reply to Hayne. I am not sure that, without Mr. Webster's powerful championship of the side which prevailed, Mr. Calhoun's theory would not have become established. At any rate, it was the fortune of Daniel Webster that the doctrine of National Unity, whenever it has prevailed in the hearts of his countrymen, has been supported by his argument and clothed in his language.

Another incident of the same kind, not of like importance to those of which I have told, but still of a good deal of interest and importance, happened more lately. I had a good deal to do with it myself.

When President Hayes entered upon office, there were but three members of the Senate of either party who were supporters of his Administration. I was one of them. The other two were my colleague, Mr. Dawes, and Stanley Matthews of Ohio. President Hayes was, in my opinion, a very wise and able and upright man. It was an admirable Administration. He had a strong and excellent Cabinet. But his nomination had disappointed the ambitions of some very influential men in his own party, and the powerful factions of which they were the leaders and candidates. The opposing party had not only felt the usual disappointment in defeat, but denied the lawfulness of his election. So I was more familiar than would ordinarily have been likely to have been the case with all the councils of his Administration. The Secretary of State was my near kinsman, and the Attorney-General had been my law partner.

When the vacancy occurred in the English mission by the resignation of Mr. John Welsh, I very strongly urged the appointment of Mr. Lowell. Mr. Evarts was quite unwilling to select Mr. Lowell, and in deference to his wishes, President Hayes offered the place to several other persons, including myself. The offer was communicated to me by Mr. Evarts who was, at that time, Secretary of State. But there were many good reasons why I could not accept it. The offer was made to Governor Alexander H. Bullock, a member of the little society of which I have spoken. I was myself authorized by the President to communicate his desire to Governor Bullock. His answer, declining of account of the condition of his family, will be found in the life prefixed to the published volume of his speeches.

Now, if Governor Bullock had accepted the appointment, which was undoubtedly very attractive to him, what Mr. Lowell did in England would not have been done. He will doubtless go down in literature as a great poet. But it seems to me he is entitled to an equal rank among the prose writers of the country, and indeed among the prose writers of the English language of our time. His admirable address on Democracy, the delightful address as President of the Wordsworth Society, several estimates of the British poets, delivered by him on various occasions in England when he was Minister there, are among the very best examples of his work in prose.

APPENDIX I

It was upon Mr. Sherman's motion that the words, "Common Defence and General Welfare," which have played so important a part in the construction of the Constitution, were introduced into that instrument. He proposed to add to the taxing clause the words, "for the payment of said debts and for the defraying of expenses that shall be incurred for the defence and general welfare."

This proposition, according to Mr. Madison, was disagreed to as being unnecessary. It then obtained only the single vote of Connecticut. But three days afterward Mr. Sherman moved and obtained the appointment of a Committee, of which he was a member, to which this and several subjects were committed. That Committee reported the clause in the shape in which it now stands, and it was adopted unanimously.

Its adoption is an instance of Mr. Sherman's great tenacity, and his power to bring the body, of which he was a member, to his own way of thinking in the end, however unwilling in the beginning. This phrase had played not only an important but a decisive part in the great debate between a strict construction of the Constitution and the construction which has prevailed and made it the law of the being of a great National life.

This story is well told in Farrar's "Manual of the Constitution," pages 110, 309, 324.

APPENDIX II

Roger Minott Sherman, son of Roger Sherman's brother Josiah, was born in Woburn, Mass., May 22, 1773. Mr. Sherman was much attached to him and defrayed the cost of his education. He was an inmate of his uncle's family while a student at Yale College. He was graduated in the year 1792. He was one of the ablest lawyers and advocates New England ever produced, probably having no equal at the Bar of New England except Jeremiah Mason and Daniel Webster. I attended a dinner of the Alumni of Yale College some years ago. President Woolsey sat on one side of me, and Dr. Leonard Bacon on the other; and right opposite at the table was Rev. Dr. Atwater, then I believe of Princeton, but formerly Mr. Sherman's pastor in Fairfield. President Woolsey said that Roger Minott Sherman came nearer his conception of Cicero than any other person he ever heard speak. They used frequently to invite him to deliver public addresses at the College. But he never would accept the invitation. After refusal, the invitation would be renewed again after a few years with like result.

To the above estimate of Mr. Sherman, Dr. Bacon and Mr. Atwater agreed.

When I was in the Law School at Harvard, Professor Simon Greenleaf told the class in one of his lectures that he was once travelling through Connecticut in a carriage on a summer journey, and came to a town, I think Fairfield, which was the county seat. He stopped to get his dinner and rest his horses. While the horses were being fed he went into the court-house, intending to stay only a few minutes, and found Roger Minott Sherman arguing a case before the Supreme Court with Judge Gould on the other side. He was much impressed by Mr. Sherman's clear and powerful argument. Mr. Sherman and Judge Gould were engaged on opposite sides in nearly all the cases. Professor Greenleaf was so much interested by what he heard that he remained and attended court during the entire week. I do not remember his exact language, but he, in substance, gave an estimate of Mr. Sherman as a profound lawyer and able advocate, not less exalted than President Woolsey had given of him as an orator.

Some slight account of Roger Minott Sherman will be found in Goodrich's "Recollections."

Mr. Evarts once told me that there was an important controversy, involving the title to a valuable cargo, in which a lawyer in Hartford was on one side, and a member of the Bar of the city of New York on the other. The New York lawyer went to Hartford to negotiate about the case. The Hartford lawyer had obtained the opinion of Roger Minott Sherman for his client and held it in his hand during the conversation, labelled on the outside, "Opinion of Roger Minott Sherman," and moved it about under the eye of his opponent. The opinion was in fact that the Hartford man's client had no case. But the New York lawyer supposed that if the man had got Roger Minott Sherman's opinion, and seemed to set so much store upon the document, it was favorable to the party who had consulted him. He was much alarmed and settled the case on favorable terms to his antagonist.

Mr. Sherman was famous for his quickness of wit. A story went the rounds of the papers in my youth, which may or may not have any truth in it, but which I will record. It is said that he was once arguing a case against Nathan Smith, a very able but rather coarse lawyer. Mr. Smith had discussed the question of law with the subtilty for which he was distinguished. Mr. Sherman said to the court that he thought his brother Smith's metaphysics were out of place in that discussion; that he was not adverse to such refinement at a proper time, and would willingly, on a fit occasion, chop logic and split hairs with him. Smith pulled a hair out of his own head, and holding it up, said,—"Split that." Sherman replied, quick as lightning, "May it please your Honor, I didn't say bristles."

The following is the passage referred to from S. G. Goodrich's "Recollections of a Lifetime":

"Roger Minott Sherman was distinguished for acute logical powers and great elegance of diction,—words and sentences seemed to flow from his lips as if he were reading from the Spectator. He was a man of refined personal appearance and manners; tall, stooping a little in his walk; deliberate in his movements and speech, indicating circumspection, which was one of his characteristics. His countenance was pale and thoughtful, his eye remarkable for a keen penetrating expression. Though a man of grave general aspect, he was not destitute of humor. He was once travelling in western Virginia, and stopping at a small tavern, was beset with questions by the landlord, as to where he came from, whither he was going, etc. At last said Mr. Sherman, 'Sit down, sir, and I will tell you all about it.' The landlord sat down. 'Sir,' said he, 'I am from the Blue Light State of Connecticut.' The landlord stared. 'I am a deacon in a Calvinistic church.' The landlord was evidently shocked. 'I was a member of the Hartford Convention.' This was too much for the democratic nerves of the landlord; he speedily departed, and left his lodger to himself."

[Frontispiece: v2.jpg]

[Title page] AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SEVENTY YEARS

BY GEORGE F. HOAR

WITH PORTRAITS

VOLUME II.

NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1903

[Table of Contents] CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I ELECTION TO THE SENATE

CHAPTER II PRESIDENT HAYES

CHAPTER III CABINET OF PRESIDENT HAYES

CHAPTER IV ATTEMPT TO REOPEN THE QUESTION OF THE TITLE TO THE PRESIDENCY

CHAPTER V THE SENATE IN 1877

CHAPTER VI LEADERS OF THE SENATE IN 1877

CHAPTER VII COMMITTEE SERVICE IN THE SENATE

CHAPTER VIII THE RIVER AND HARBOR BILL

CHAPTER IX CHINESE TREATY AND LEGISLATION

CHAPTER X THE WASHINGTON TREATY AND THE GENEVA AWARD

CHAPTER XI THE PRESIDENT'S POWER OF REMOVAL

CHAPTER XII FISHERIES

CHAPTER XIII THE FEDERAL ELECTIONS BILL

CHAPTER XIV CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENTS AND THE PRESIDENTIAL SUCCESSION BILL

CHAPTER XV PRESIDENT CLEVELAND'S JUDGES

CHAPTER XVI SOME SOUTHERN SENATORS

CHAPTER XVII CUSHMAN KELLOGG DAVIS

CHAPTER XVIII GEORGE BANCROFT

CHAPTER XIX VISITS TO ENGLAND (1860, 1868, 1871)

CHAPTER XX VISITS TO ENGLAND, 1892

CHAPTER XXI VISITS TO ENGLAND, 1896

CHAPTER XXII SILVER AND BIMETALLISM

CHAPTER XXIII VISITS TO ENGLAND, 1899

CHAPTER XXIV A REPUBLICAN PLATFORM

CHAPTER XXV OFFICIAL SALARIES

CHAPTER XXVI PROPRIETY IN DEBATE

CHAPTER XXVII THE FISH-BALL LETTERS

CHAPTER XXVIII THE BIRD PETITION

CHAPTER XXIX THE A. P. A. CONTROVERSY

CHAPTER XXX THE ENGLISH MISSION

CHAPTER XXXI PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT AND THE SYRIAN CHILDREN

CHAPTER XXXII NATIONAL BANKRUPTCY

CHAPTER XXXIII THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS

CHAPTER XXXIV APPOINTMENTS TO OFFICE

CHAPTER XXXV ORATORY AND SOME ORATORS I HAVE HEARD

CHAPTER XXXVI TRUSTS

CHAPTER XXXVII RECOLLECTIONS OF THE WORCESTER BAR

CHAPTER XXXVIII SOME JUDGES I HAVE KNOWN

CHAPTER XXXIX POLITICAL AND RELIGIOUS FAITH

CHAPTER XL EDWARD EVERETT HALE

APPENDIX THE FOREST OF DEAN (BY JOHN BELLOWS)

INDEX

[Second Title page]

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SEVENTY YEARS

[Text] AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SEVENTY YEARS

CHAPTER I ELECTION TO THE SENATE

I have every reason to believe that my constituents in the Worcester district would have gladly continued me in the public service for ten years longer, if I had been so minded. I presided over the District Convention that nominated my successor. Before the convention was called to order the delegates crowded around me and urged me to reconsider my refusal to stand for another term, and declared they would gladly nominate me again. But I persisted in my refusal. I supposed then that my political career was ended. My home and my profession and my library had an infinite attraction for me. I had become thoroughly sick of Washington and politics and public life.

But the Republican Party in Massachusetts was having a death struggle with General Butler. That very able, adroit and ambitious man was attempting to organize the political forces of the State into a Butler party, and to make them the instrument of his ambitions. He had in some mysterious way got the ear of General Grant and the control of the political patronage of the State, so far as the United States offices were concerned. I had denounced him and his methods with all my might in a letter I had written to the people of Massachusetts, from which I have already made extracts. I had incurred his bitter personal enmity, and was regarded with perhaps one exception, that of my older brother Judge Hoar, as his most unrelenting opponent.

The people of Massachusetts were never an office-seeking people. There is no State in the Union whose representatives at the seat of Government have less trouble in that way, or that gives less trouble to the Executive Departments or to the President. I have had that assurance from nearly every President since I have been in public life. And the people of Massachusetts have never concerned themselves very much as to who should hold the Executive offices, small or large, so that they were honestly and faithfully served, and that the man appointed was of good character and standing. The reform which took the civil service out of politics always found great favor in Massachusetts. But since General Butler, in some way never fully explained to the public, got the ear of the appointing power he seemed to be filling all the Departments at Washington with his adherents, especially the important places in the Treasury. The public indignation was deeply aroused. Men dreaded to read the morning papers lest they should see the announcement of the removal from the public service of some honest citizen, or brave soldier, who was filling the place of postmaster or marshal, or Custom House official, or clerk in a Department at Washington, and the putting in his place some unscrupulous follower of the fortunes of General Butler. The climax was reached when Butler's chief lieutenant, Simmons, was appointed Collector of the Port of Boston. Judge Russell, the old Collector, was an able and very popular man. He had given Butler a sort of half-hearted support. But he was incapable of lending himself to any base or unworthy purpose. He was compelled to vacate the office, much to his disgust. He accepted that of Minister to Venezuela, an unimportant foreign mission, and William A. Simmons was appointed in his place. The process of weeding out the Custom House then went on with great rapidity. Colonel Moulton, one of the bravest soldiers of the Civil War, who had been under rebel fire in a Charleston dungeon, and Colonel A. A. Sherman, a man with a marvellous military record, were removed to make way for men for whom, to say the least, the public had no respect. The order for their removal was recalled in consequence of a direct appeal to President Grant. Mr. Hartwell, the Treasurer, an excellent officer, who had graduated the first scholar at Harvard, was removed. Mrs. Chenoweth, a very accomplished lady, widow of one of the bravest officers of the Civil War, a member of Grant's staff, who was filling a clerical position at the Custom House, was notified of her removal. That also was arrested by a direct appeal to Grant. General Andrews, one of our best officers, afterwards professor at West Point, was dropped from the office of Marshal, and one of the adherents of Butler put in his place.

The indignation of the better class of Republicans was aroused. Before the appointment of Simmons, Mr. Boutwell had been elected Senator, and Mr. Richardson had succeeded him as Secretary of the Treasury. Mr. Boutwell was a favorite with the President. Mr. Sumner, then the senior Senator, was on the most unfriendly relations with the President, and had opposed his reelection to the best of his ability. It was not considered likely, under the custom then universally prevailing and indeed prevailing ever since, that President Grant would ever have made such an appointment without the entire approval of the Senator from the State interested, with whom he was on most friendly terms and who had served in his Cabinet as Secretary of the Treasury. Governor Boutwell was consulted about it, and gave it his approval, although it is understood that afterward, in obedience to the indignant feeling of the people, which was deeply excited, he voted against the confirmation of Simmons in the Senate. At the same time he informed his associates that he did not wish to have them understand that he requested them to vote against Simmons because of his opposition, or because of any so-called courtesy of the Senate. Simmons was the manager of Mr. Boutwell's campaign for reelection, and General Butler was his earnest supporter, giving him notice and urging him to repair at once to Boston when the movement against him became formidable.

I am quite sure that but for the determination of the people of Massachusetts not to endure Butler and Butlerism any longer, and probably but for the appointment of Simmons, I should never have been elected Senator. It is likely there would have been no change in the office until this moment.

When I left home for Washington at the beginning of the December session of Congress in 1876, the late Adin Thayer told me that some of the Republicans had got sick of Butler's rule, and they were determined to have a candidate for Senator who could be trusted to make zealous opposition to him and his methods, and that they proposed to use my name. I told him I did not believe they would be able to get twenty-five votes, that Mr. Boutwell, then Senator, was an able man, and that I did not think the fact even that he was understood to be a strong friend and ally of General Butler would induce the people to displace him. Mr. Thayer replied that at any rate there should be a protest.

I had no communication from any other human being upon the subject of my candidacy for the Senate, and made none to any human being, with one exception, until my election by the Legislature was announced. My oldest sister was fatally sick, and I received a letter every day giving an account of her condition. In a postscript to one letter from my brother, he made some slight allusion to the election for Senator then pending in the Massachusetts Legislature. But with that exception I never heard about it and had nothing to do with it.

I can truly say that I was as indifferent to the result, so far as it affected me personally, as to the question whether I should walk on one side of the street or the other. I did not undervalue the great honor of representing Massachusetts in the Senate of the United States. But I had an infinite longing for my home and my profession and my library. I never found public employment pleasant or congenial. But the fates sent me to the Senate and have kept me there until I am now the man longest in continuous legislative service in this country, and have served in the United States Senate longer than any other man who ever represented Massachusetts.

The last three times I have been elected to the Senate I have had, I believe, every Republican vote of the Legislature, and I was assured—of course I cannot speak with much confidence of such a matter—that I could have all the Democratic votes, if necessary. I state these things with a feeling of natural pride. But I do not attribute it to any special merit of mine. It has been the custom of Massachusetts to continue her Senators in public life so long as they were willing, and were in general accord with the political opinion of the majority of the people.

I have, however, owed very much indeed to the moderation and kindness of the eminent gentlemen who might have been most formidable competitors, if they had thought fit. Just before the election of 1883, when all the discontented elements were seeking a candidate, General Francis A. Walker, one of the ablest men ever born on the soil so productive of good and able men, was proposed as my competitor. He would have had a great support. I think he would have liked the service, for which he was so eminently fitted. He had been my pupil, and had gone from my office to the War. He came out promptly in a letter in which he declared that in his judgment Mr. Hoar was the fittest person in the Commonwealth for the office of Senator. Governor Long was my Republican competitor in 1883. But on two or three occasions since, when he was proposed in many quarters for the office of Senator, he promptly refused to have his name submitted to the Legislature, and declared himself for me. He is a man of brilliant ability, and a great favorite with the people of the Commonwealth. General William F. Draper, lately Ambassador to Italy, a most distinguished soldier, a business man of great sagacity and success, having inherited from his father a right to the regard of the people— a regard which has been extended not only to him, but also to his very able and excellent brothers—more than once when there has been an election of Senator, has been proposed in many quarters. He has promptly, both in letter and in public interviews, rejected the suggestion, finally with impatience that he was put to the trouble of repeating himself in the matter so often.

I think that in any other State than Massachusetts, and even there, without the great kindness and moderation of these gentlemen, my tenure of office, which will have continued for thirty-eight years, if my life be spared, would have been much shorter.

Mr. Sumner was in general accord with the Republicans of Massachusetts on important questions in issue in his time. But he bitterly and savagely attacked President Grant at the height of his popularity, and did his best to defeat him for reelection. He allowed his name to be used as candidate for Governor, against Governor Washburn. The defeat of Grant would, of course, have caused that of Henry Wilson, candidate for the Vice-Presidency. Still I have no doubt that if Mr. Sumner had lived, he would have been reelected to the Senate without any very formidable opposition.

CHAPTER II PRESIDENT HAYES

President Hayes's Administration began under circumstances of peculiar difficulty. In the first Congress of his term the Democrats had a majority in the House. They had refused to pass the Army Appropriation Bill the winter before and would not consent to such a bill in the following winter without a condition that no military force should be used to maintain order at elections, or to keep in power state governments obnoxious to them. But his worst foes were of his own household. There were two factions among the Republicans, one led by Mr. Blaine and the other by Conkling and Cameron. Blaine and Conkling had been disappointed aspirants for the Presidency. Mr. Hayes and his advisers were in favor of what was called reform in the civil service and utterly rejected the claim of Senators and Representatives to dictate nominations to executive and judicial offices. With the exception of Stanley Matthews of Ohio and my colleague, Mr. Dawes, I was, I believe, the only cordial supporter of the President in the Senate.

Mr. Blaine was disposed, I think, in the beginning, to give the President his support. But he was rendered exceedingly indignant by the refusal of President Hayes to appoint Mr. Frye to a seat in the Cabinet, which Mr. Blaine desired, as it would smooth the way of Mr. Eugene Hale, his most intimate friend and strongest supporter, to succeed Mr. Hamlin in the Senate. President Hayes was willing to appoint Mr. Hale to a Cabinet office. But Mr. Hale, I think very wisely, declined the overture, as he had before declined the tender of a seat in the Cabinet from President Grant. He would have made an excellent Cabinet officer. But he was specially fitted for the more agreeable and permanent public service of Senator. I do not know what occasioned President Hayes's reluctance to comply with Mr. Blaine's desire. But it was a fortunate decision for Mr. Frye. If he had gone into the Cabinet, in all likelihood the people of Maine would have chosen another Senator when Mr. Blaine became Secretary of State under Garfield in 1881, and according to the habit of the people of that State would have continued him in their service. So Mr. Frye's brilliant and useful career in the Senate would have been wanting to the history of the Republic.

I had myself something to do with the selection of the Cabinet. I had been a member of the Convention held at Cincinnati that had nominated President Hayes. The Massachusetts delegation had turned the scale between him and Blaine. Their votes gave him the slender majority to which he owed his nomination. I had also been a member of the Electoral Commission to which the contest between him and Tilden had been submitted and I had been on the committee that framed the bill under which that Commission was created. I had voted with the Democrats of the House to support that bill against the judgment of a large majority of the Republicans. I agreed with President Hayes in the matter of a reform in the civil service and in his desire to free the Executive power from the trammel of senatorial dictation.

I had formed a strong friendship with Mr. McCrary in the House of Representatives and had earnestly commended him to the President for appointment to the office of Attorney-General. I did not expect to make any other recommendation. There had been an unfortunate estrangement between the Republicans of Massachusetts and of Maine by reason of the refusal of the Massachusetts delegation to support Mr. Blaine for the Presidency. I thought it desirable for the interest of the Republican Party that that breach should be healed and especially desirable that the incoming administration, so beset with difficulty, should have the powerful support of Mr. Blaine and of those Republicans of whom he was the leader and favorite. So I thought it best that he should be consulted in the matter of the selection of a Cabinet officer from New England and that I should keep aloof.

But the day after President Hayes's inauguration, rather late in the afternoon, Mr. Blaine came into the Senate Chamber and told me with some appearance of excitement that he thought the President wanted to see the Massachusetts Senators. I did not, however, act upon that message, and did not go to the White House that day. I was at my room in the evening when Senator Morrill of Vermont came and told me that President Hayes wished him to inquire of me what Massachusetts man I desired to have appointed to a place in the Cabinet. I told Mr. Morrill that there were two gentlemen of great capacity and high character, either of whom would make an excellent Cabinet officer. One of them was William B. Washburn, and the other Alexander H. Rice. Each of them had held the office of Governor of the Commonwealth, and each of them had been a very eminent member of the House of Representatives. But I said that each belonged to what might be called a separate faction or division in the Republican Party, and the appointment of either would be distasteful to some of the supporters of the other. I added that there was one man of whom I thought very highly indeed, an intimate friend of mine, whose appointment I thought would give pleasure to everybody in Massachusetts. That was General Charles Devens, then Judge of the Supreme Court, a very eminent advocate and orator, and one of the most distinguished soldiers the State had sent into the war.

Mr. Morrill went back to the President with the message. Early the next morning I received notice from the White House that the President wished to see me. I complied with his desire at once. Mr. Dawes had also been sent for and was there. The President said he could offer General Devens the Department of War, or perhaps the Navy. Mr. Dawes thought that he would not be willing to accept the latter. I told the President that I thought he would; that General Devens was a native of Charlestown. He had always taken a great interest in the Navy. He had known a great many of the old and famous naval officers, and some of his near relatives had been in that service. But the President finally authorized me to send a telegram to General Devens offering him the Department of War. I sent the telegram and requested Devens to come at once to Washington, which he did. At the same time, the President stated his purpose to offer Mr. McCrary the Department of Justice. In the course of the day, however, it was reported to the President that Mr. McCrary had formed a decided opinion in favor of the McGarrahan claim, a claim which affected large and valuable mining properties in California. Most persons who had investigated the claim believed it to be utterly fraudulent. There were many persons of great influence who were interested in the mining property affected. They strongly appealed to the President not to place in the office of Attorney-General a man who was committed in favor of the claim. The President then asked me if I thought General Devens would be willing to accept the office of Attorney-General, and exchange it for that of Secretary of War later, when the McGarrahan claim had been disposed of so far as Executive action was concerned. I told the President that I thought he would. When General Devens arrived I stated the case to him. He said he should be unwilling to agree to such an arrangement. He would be willing to accept the office in the beginning, but if he were to give up the office of Attorney-General after having once undertaken it, he might be thought to have failed to discharge his duties to the satisfaction of the President, or that of the public. He was unwilling to take that risk.