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Title: White House gossip
from Andrew Johnson to Calvin Coolidge
Author: Edna M. Colman
Release date: June 3, 2024 [eBook #73748]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Doubleday, Page & Company, 1927
Credits: Alan, The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHITE HOUSE GOSSIP ***
WHITE HOUSE GOSSIP
_From Andrew Johnson to Calvin Coolidge_
BY
EDNA M. COLMAN
AUTHOR OF
“SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS OF
WHITE HOUSE GOSSIP”
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM
PHOTOGRAPHS
GARDEN CITY NEW YORK
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
1927
COPYRIGHT, 1927, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE
& COMPANY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES AT THE
COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
FIRST EDITION
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. ADMINISTRATION OF ANDREW JOHNSON 1
II. FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF ULYSSES S.
GRANT 50
III. SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF ULYSSES S.
GRANT 77
IV. THE ADMINISTRATION OF RUTHERFORD B.
HAYES 104
V. ADMINISTRATION OF JAMES ABRAM
GARFIELD 128
VI. ADMINISTRATION OF CHESTER ALAN ARTHUR 146
VII. FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF GROVER
CLEVELAND 170
VIII. ADMINISTRATION OF BENJAMIN HARRISON 198
IX. SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF GROVER
CLEVELAND 221
X. FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF WILLIAM
MCKINLEY 243
XI. SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF WILLIAM
MCKINLEY 265
XII. FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF THEODORE
ROOSEVELT 277
XIII. SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF THEODORE
ROOSEVELT 292
XIV. ADMINISTRATION OF WILLIAM HOWARD
TAFT 319
XV. FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF WOODROW
WILSON 340
XVI. SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF WOODROW
WILSON 364
XVII. THE ADMINISTRATION OF WARREN G.
HARDING 378
XVIII. FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF CALVIN
COOLIDGE 401
INDEX 421
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Mrs. Calvin Coolidge _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
Andrew Johnson’s first tailor shop 40
The Grand Review of the Armies of the North 40
Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant 56
Nellie Grant Sartoris 88
Mrs. Lucy Webb Hayes 104
Rutherford Birchard Hayes 104
Mrs. James A. Garfield 136
Mrs. John McElroy, sister of President Arthur 152
Mrs. Grover Cleveland in her wedding gown 184
Mrs. Benjamin Harrison 200
The Inauguration of Grover Cleveland 232
Mrs. Ida Saxton McKinley 248
William McKinley 248
Theodore Roosevelt and his family 280
Alice Longworth in her wedding gown 296
William H. Taft and his family 328
Woodrow Wilson and his family in 1912 344
Democracy and Royalty 376
The body of Warren G. Harding lying in state 392
WHITE HOUSE GOSSIP
_From Andrew Johnson to Calvin Coolidge_
WHITE HOUSE GOSSIP FROM
ANDREW JOHNSON TO
CALVIN COOLIDGE
CHAPTER I
ADMINISTRATION OF ANDREW JOHNSON
_April 15, 1865, to March 4, 1869_
Late April and early May of 1865 brought none of the usual springtime
joys to Washington, the Capital City; its residents, in common with
the rest of the nation, were shaken with grief over the death of
President Lincoln. Public buildings and private houses hid behind
dismal swathings of crêpe, and the people were still subdued with the
harrowing incidents that had their beginning on the terrible night of
April 14th. Previous sectional opinions were set aside in the general
regret over the loss of the gaunt, kindly man whom the troubled,
disrupted country had learned to trust. The tragedy at Ford’s Theatre,
with the simultaneous attack upon Secretary of State William Seward,
was the hourly topic of conversation.
Search for the conspirators had begun, and suspicion, fear, and
suspense hung like a pall over the land. Peace and security were gone.
None knew when or where the relentless arm of the law would pounce upon
another suspect. Innocent and guilty alike went through the gruelling.
Especially did the fear of Northern soldier vengeance lie heavily upon
Southern hearts already bowed in the sorrow of defeat.
Andrew Johnson, the Union Democrat, the “Tailor from Tennessee”--“The
Knight of the Shears and Goose,” as Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton
had so often dubbed President Lincoln’s running mate--had stepped
into the presidential shoes and was handling the reins of government
with dominant force and decision. Punishment radiated from every
fibre of his being. As he turned from the bier of his slain chief,
two paramount purposes were definite in his mind: to follow Lincoln’s
policies, and to punish those guilty of his death. He could think of
the tragedy in no other terms but those that spelled treason in its
blackest form, especially as, upon every hand, because of the attack
upon Seward, he found public sentiment committed to the belief that
a general conspiracy had been formed in the South for the purpose of
exterminating the entire Lincoln Cabinet, together with himself as Vice
President, and also General Grant.
From the hour he took the presidential oath and established his offices
in the Treasury building, the demands for vengeance poured in upon him
from every side.
At the moment, the surrender of all of the Southern arms was
incomplete, and a vast Northern army, two hundred thousand strong,
chafing at restraint, was ready at a word to take the matter of
avenging the death of “Father Abraham” into its own hands and
thus renew the bloody conflict. Never had a man stepped into the
Presidency under such difficult and soul-trying conditions, or been
confronted with greater tasks, more exacting demands, or more serious
responsibilities. Never had there been such urgent need for a calm,
judicial, well-balanced mind, able to rise above partisan bias, poised
to hold firmly to the ability to see both sides of each problem and to
refrain from impetuous action.
A nation torn asunder through an internal upheaval had to be brought
together and welded into one again.
Although Andrew Johnson had spent thirty years in public service,
fighting for what he conceived to be right, his experience had not been
of the type to furnish the subtle diplomacy or suave poise needed to
handle successfully the great problems that now confronted him. It is
doubtful if any man who participated in the political contests of that
period, even the great, wise Lincoln, could have brought harmony out of
the hysteria and chaos that prevailed in the nation on the morning of
April 15, 1865.
Following his induction into office and his inaugural address, Johnson
called his first Cabinet meeting at twelve o’clock on April 15th, at
which two important measures were decided. These were the arrangements
for the funeral of Mr. Lincoln and the appointment of Mr. W. Hunter as
temporary Secretary of State pending the recovery of Secretary Seward.
At this time the new President requested the members of the Cabinet to
retain their portfolios.
In his first proclamation President Johnson expressed his horror of
the crime and his resolve to punish the guilty participants. This
document also offered rewards for the arrest of those believed to
be implicated--one hundred thousand dollars for Jefferson Davis;
twenty-five thousand dollars each for Clement C. Clay, Jacob Thompson,
George N. Sanders, and Beverly Tucker; and ten thousand dollars for
William C. Cleary, late clerk of Clement C. Clay.
It might be stated here that, despite the most exhaustive efforts, not
the slightest evidence was produced to connect any of the Southern
leaders with the crime of Booth. Jefferson Davis was captured May 10,
1865, at Irwinsville, Wilkinson County, Ga., and sent to Fortress
Monroe. Although indicted for treason against the United States in the
Federal Court for the District of Virginia, he was finally admitted to
bail, one of his bondsmen being Horace Greeley, the abolitionist leader
of the North, and released without trial.
Colonel Lafayette Baker, Chief of Secret Service, was out of Washington
the night of the tragedy. On his return, he at once applied himself
to the task of capturing Booth, Herold, and all others suspected by
Secretary of War Stanton, for the apprehension of whom the latter had
offered liberal rewards in a proclamation issued immediately following
the tragedy. The Stanton proclamation stated that $50,000 would be paid
by the War Department for the apprehension of the murderers of the late
President. All persons were warned against harbouring or aiding them in
any way on pain of being treated by the government as accomplices in
the plot.
The City of Washington also offered a reward of $20,000 for the arrest
of the assassin and his associates implicated in the crime.
These rewards stirred up extra zeal, and the army of searchers grew
steadily.
The search for Booth through the swamps and the final scenes of his
capture and death were most graphically told by George Alfred Townsend,
a newspaper correspondent, in the New York _World_ during that eventful
period. “Gath,” as he was familiarly known, gathered his daily reports
from the most reliable sources. Those bearing upon Booth’s wild act he
later assembled in booklet form and published in 1865. From it this
picture of Booth’s final stand is copied.
The assassin had been traced to the Garrett home on the Rappahannock,
some distance from Bowling Green, by the little force sent out
by Colonel Lafayette Baker, Chief of the Secret Service, with
instructions not to return till they had their man. The company was in
charge of Colonel Baker’s former Lieutenant Colonel, E. J. Conger, and
of his cousin, Lieutenant L. B. Baker. At two o’clock, early morning,
they approached the house.
“In the dead stillness, Baker dismounted and forced the outer gate;
Conger kept close behind him, and the horsemen followed cautiously.
So they surrounded the pleasant old homestead, each horseman, carbine
in poise, adjusted under the grove of locusts, so as to inclose
the dwelling with a circle of fire. After a pause, Baker rode to
the kitchen door on the side, and dismounting, rapped and hallooed
lustily. An old man, in drawers and a nightshirt, hastily undrew
the bolts, and stood on the threshold, peering shiveringly into the
darkness.
“Baker seized him by the throat at once, and held a pistol to his ear.
‘Who--who is it that calls me?’ cried the old man. ‘Where are the men
who stay with you?’ challenged Baker. ‘If you prevaricate you are a
dead man!’ The old fellow, who proved to be the head of the family,
was so overawed and paralyzed that he stammered and shook, and said
not a word. ‘Go light a candle,’ cried Baker, sternly, ‘and be quick
about it.’ The trembling old man obeyed, and in a moment the imperfect
rays flared upon his whitening hairs and bluishly pallid face. Then
the question was repeated, backed up by the glimmering pistol, ‘Where
are those men?’ The old man held to the wall and his knees smote each
other. ‘They are gone,’ he said. ‘We haven’t got them in the house. I
assure you that they are gone.’ Here there were sounds and whisperings
in the main building adjoining, and the lieutenant strode to the
door. A ludicrous instant intervened, the old man’s modesty outran
his terror. ‘Don’t go in there,’ he said feebly, ‘there are women
undressed in there.’ ‘Damn the women,’ cried Baker; ‘what if they are
undressed? We shall go in if they haven’t a rag.’ Leaving the old man
in mute astonishment, Baker bolted through the door, and stood in the
assemblage of bare arms and night robes. His loaded pistol disarmed
modesty of its delicacy and substituted therefor a seasonable terror.
Here he repeated his summons, and the half light gave to his face a
more than bandit ferocity. They all denied knowledge of the strangers’
whereabouts.
“In the interim, Conger had also entered, and while the household and
its invaders were thus in weird tableaux, a young man appeared, as if
he had risen from the ground. The muzzles of every gun turned upon
him in a second; but, while he blanched, he did not lose loquacity.
‘Father,’ he said, ‘we had better tell the truth about the matter.
Those men whom you seek, gentlemen, are in the barn, I know. They
went there to sleep.’ Leaving one soldier to guard the old man--and
the soldier was very glad of the job, as it relieved him of personal
hazard in the approaching combat--all the rest, with cocked pistols at
the young man’s head, followed on to the barn. It lay a hundred yards
from the house, the front barn door facing the west gable, and was an
old and spacious structure, with floors only a trifle above the ground
level.
“The troops dismounted, were stationed at regular intervals around
it, and ten yards distant at every point, four special guards placed
to command the door and all with weapons in supple preparation, while
Baker and Conger went direct to the portal. It had a padlock upon it,
and the key of this Baker secured at once. In the interval of silence
that ensued, the rustling of planks and straw was heard inside, as of
persons rising from sleep.
“At the same moment, Baker hailed: ‘To the persons in this barn. I
have a proposal to make; we are about to send in to you the son of the
man in whose custody you are found. Either surrender to him your arms
and then give yourselves up, or we’ll set fire to the place. We mean
to take you both, or to have a bonfire and a shooting match.’
“No answer came to this of any kind. The lad, John M. Garrett, who
was in deadly fear, was here pushed through the door by a sudden
opening of it, and immediately Lieutenant Baker locked the door on the
outside. The boy was heard to state his appeal in undertone. Booth
replied:
“‘Damn you! Get out of here. You have betrayed me.’
“At the same time he placed his hand in his pocket as for a pistol. A
remonstrance followed, but the boy slipped quickly over the reopened
portal, reporting that his errand had failed, and that he dared not
enter again. All this time, the candle brought from the house to the
barn was burning close beside the two detectives, rendering it easy
for any one within to have shot them dead. This observed, the light
was cautiously removed, and everybody took care to keep out of its
reflection. By this time, the crisis of the position was at hand, the
cavalry exhibited very variable inclinations, some to run away, others
to shoot Booth without a summons, but all were excited and fitfully
silent. At the house near by, the female folks were seen collected
in the doorway, and the necessities of the case provoked prompt
conclusions. The boy was placed at a remote point. The summons was
repeated by Baker:
“‘You must surrender inside there. Give up your arms and appear. There
is no chance for escape. We give you five minutes to make up your
mind.’
“A bold, clarion reply came from within, so strong as to be heard at
the house door:
“‘Who are you and what do you want with us?’
“Baker again urged: ‘We want you to deliver up your arms and become
our prisoners.’
“‘But who are you?’ hallooed the same strong voice.
“Baker--‘That makes no difference. We know who you are, and we want
you. We have here fifty men, armed with carbines and pistols. You
cannot escape.’
“There was a long pause, and then Booth said:
“‘Captain, this is a hard case, I swear. Perhaps I am being taken by
my own friends.’ No reply from the detectives.
“Booth--‘Well, give us a little time to consider.’
“Baker--‘Very well. Take time.’
“Here ensued a long and eventful pause. What thronging memories it
brought to Booth, we can only guess. In this little interval he made
the resolve to die. But he was cool and steady to the end. Baker,
after a lapse, hailed for the last time.
“‘Well, we have waited long enough; surrender your arms and come out,
or we’ll fire the barn.’
“Booth answered thus: ‘I am but a cripple, a one-legged man. Withdraw
your forces one hundred yards from the door, and I will come. Give me
a chance for my life, Captain, I will never be taken alive.’
“Baker--‘We did not come here to fight, but to capture you. I say
again, appear, or the barn shall be fired.’
“Then, with a long breath, which could be heard outside, Booth cried
in sudden calmness, still invisible, as were to him his enemies:
“‘Well, then, my brave boys, prepare a stretcher for me.’
“There was a pause, broken by low discussions within between Booth and
his associate, the former saying, as if in answer to some remonstrance
or appeal, ‘Get away from me, you are a damned coward and mean to
leave me in my distress; but go! go! I don’t want you to stay. I won’t
have you stay.’ Then he shouted aloud:
“‘There’s a man inside who wants to surrender.’...
“At this time, Herold was quite up to the door, within whispering
distance of Baker. The latter told him to put out his hands to be
handcuffed, at the same time drawing open the door a little distance.
Herold thrust forth his hands, when Baker, seizing him, jerked him
into the night, and straightway delivered him over to a deputation of
cavalrymen. The fellow began to talk of his innocence and plead so
noisily that Conger threatened to gag him unless he ceased. Then Booth
made his last appeal, in the same clear, unbroken voice:
“‘Captain, give me a chance. Draw off your men and I will fight them
singly. I could have killed you six times to-night, but I believe you
to be a brave man, and would not murder you. Give a lame man a show.’
“It was too late for parley. All this time Booth’s voice had sounded
from the middle of the barn.
“Here he ceased speaking, Colonel Conger, slipping around to the rear,
drew some loose straws through a crack and lit a match upon them. They
were dry and blazed up in an instant, carrying a sheet of smoke and
flame through the parted planks, and heaving in a twinkling a world of
light and heat upon the magazine within. The blaze lit up the black
recesses of the great barn till every wasp’s nest and cobweb in the
roof was luminous. Behind the blaze, with his eye to a crack, Conger
saw Wilkes Booth standing upright upon a crutch. He likens him at
this instant to his brother Edwin, whom he says he so much resembled
that he half believed, for the moment, the whole pursuit to have been
a mistake. At the gleam of the fire Wilkes dropped his crutch, and,
carbine in both hands, crept up to the spot to espy the incendiary and
shoot him dead.... In vain he peered with vengeance in his look; the
blaze that made him visible concealed his enemy. A second he turned,
glaring at the fire, as if to leap upon it and extinguish it, but it
had made such headway that this was a futile impulse, and he dismissed
it. As calmly as upon the battlefield a veteran stands amidst the hail
of ball and shell and plunging iron, Booth turned to the door, carbine
in poise, and the last resolve of death, which we name despair, set on
his high, bloodless forehead.
“As so he dashed forward, intent to expire not unaccompanied, a
disobedient sergeant at an eye-hole drew upon him the fatal bead. The
barn was all glorious with conflagration, and in the beautiful ruin
this outlawed man strode like all that we know of wicked valour, stern
in the face of death. A shock, a shout, a gathering up of his splendid
figure as if to overtrip the stature God gave him, and John Wilkes
Booth fell headlong to the floor, lying there in a heap, a little life
remaining. ‘He has shot himself!’ cried Baker, unaware of the source
of the report, and rushing in, he grasped his arms to guard against
any feint or strategy. A moment convinced him that further struggle
with the prone flesh was useless. Booth did not move, nor breathe,
nor gasp. Conger and two sergeants now entered, and taking up the
body, they bore it in haste from the advancing flame, and laid it
without upon the grass, all fresh, with heavenly dew.
“‘Water,’ cried Conger, ‘bring water.’
“When this was dashed into his face, he revived a moment and stirred
his lips. Baker put his ear close down and heard him say:
“‘Tell Mother--I die--for my country.’
“They lifted him again, the fire encroaching in hotness upon them, and
placed him on the porch before the dwelling.
“A mattress was brought down, on which they placed him and propped
his head, and gave him water and brandy. The women of the household,
joined meantime by another son, who had been found in one of the
corn cribs, watching, as he said, to see that Booth and Herold did
not steal the horses, were nervous, but prompt to do the dying man
all kindnesses, although waved sternly back by the detectives. They
dipped a rag in brandy and water, and this being put between Booth’s
teeth, he sucked it greedily. When he was able to articulate again, he
muttered to Mr. Baker the same words, with an addendum, ‘Tell Mother
I died for my country. I thought I did for the best.’ Baker repeated
this, saying at the same time, ‘Booth, do I repeat it correctly?’
Booth nodded his head. Twice he was heard to say, ‘Kill me, kill me.’
His lips often moved but could complete no appreciable sound. He made
once a motion which the quick eye of Conger understood to mean that
his throat pained him. Conger put his finger there, when the dying man
attempted to cough, but only caused the blood at his perforated neck
to flow more lively. He bled very little, although shot quite through,
beneath and behind the ears, his collar bone being severed on both
sides.
“A soldier had been meanwhile dispatched for a doctor three miles
away. Just at his coming, Booth had asked to have his hands raised and
shown him. They were so paralyzed that he did not know their location.
When they were displayed, he muttered with a sad lethargy, ‘Useless,
useless.’ These were the last words he ever uttered. As he began to
die, the sun rose and threw beams into all the tree-tops. It was of
a man’s height when the struggle of death twitched and fingered in
the fading bravo’s face. His jaw drew spasmodically and obliquely
downward; his eyeballs rolled toward his feet, and began to swell;
lividness, like a horrible shadow, fastened upon him, and, with a sort
of gurgle and sudden check, he stretched his feet and threw his head
back and gave up the ghost.
“They sewed him up in a saddle blanket. This was his shroud; too
like a soldier’s. Herold, meantime, had been tied to a tree, but was
now released for the march. Colonel Conger pushed on immediately for
Washington; the cortège was to follow. Booth’s only arms were his
carbine, knife, and two revolvers. They found about him bills for
exchange, Canada money, and a diary. A venerable old Negro living in
the vicinity had the misfortune to possess a horse. This horse was a
relic of former generations, and showed by his protruding ribs the
general leanness of the land. To this old Negro’s horse was harnessed
a very shaky and absurd wagon, which rattled like approaching
dissolution. It had no tailboard, and its shafts were sharp as famine;
and into this mimicry of a vehicle the murderer was to be sent to
the Potomac River, while the man he had murdered was moving in state
across the continent. The corpse was tied with ropes around the
legs and made fast to the wagon sides. Herold’s legs were tied to
stirrups, and he was placed in the centre of four murderous-looking
cavalrymen.... When the wagon started, Booth’s wound, till now
scarcely dribbling, began to run anew. It fell through the crack of
the wagon, dripping upon the axle, and spotting the road with the
terrible wafers. It stained the planks, and soaked the blankets; and
the old Negro, at a stoppage, dabbled his hands in it by mistake; he
drew back instantly, with a shudder and stifled expletive, ‘Gor-r-r,
dat’ll never come off in de world; it’s murderer’s blood.’ He wrung
his hands and looked imploringly at the officers, and shuddered
again: ‘Gor-r-r, I wouldn’t have dat on me fur t’ousand, t’ousand
dollars.’
“Toward noon, the cortège reached Port Royal and proceeded to Bell
Plain, where the old Negro was niggardly dismissed with two paper
dollars. The corpse was cast upon the deck of a steamer, and the
journey to Washington began.
“All the way associated with the carcass went Herold, shuddering in so
grim companionship, and in the awakened fears of his own approaching
ordeal, beyond which loomed already the gossamer fabric of a scaffold.
He tried to talk for his own exoneration, saying he had ridden, as was
his wont, beyond the East Branch, and returning, found Booth wounded,
who begged him to be his companion. Of his crime he knew nothing, so
help him God, &c. But nobody listened to him. All interest of crime,
courage, and retribution centred in the dead flesh at his feet. At
Washington, high and low turned out to look on Booth. Only a few were
permitted to see his corpse for purposes of recognition. It was fairly
preserved, though on one side of the face distorted, and looking blue
like death, and wildly bandit-like, as if beaten by avenging winds.
“Yesterday, the Secretary of War, without instructions of any kind,
committed to Colonel Lafayette C. Baker, of the Secret Service, the
stark corpse of J. Wilkes Booth. The Secret Service never fulfilled
its volition more secretively. ‘What have you done with the body?’
said I to Baker. ‘That is known,’ he answered, ‘to only one man living
beside myself. It is gone. I will not tell you where. The only man who
knows is sworn to silence. Never till the great trumpeter comes shall
the grave of Booth be discovered.’ And this is true. Last night, the
27th of April, a small rowboat received the carcass of the murderer;
two men were in it, they carried the body off into the darkness, and
out of that darkness it will never return.”
Gossip and rumour have played fast and loose with the life and death
of Booth, and statements and evidence have been plentiful disputing
the fact that Booth was the man killed in the Garrett barn. Plausible
theories have been advanced as to his escape, due to the secrecy
imposed by Colonel Baker in the interment of the body. The corpse
really was interred beneath the floor of one of the cells in the
penitentiary in the Arsenal grounds, and not committed to the river,
as some believed. Later, the Booth family were permitted to remove the
body to their own burial plot in Maryland.
Doubtless, to the end of time in American history, the question of
Booth’s death, like that of the fate of the Dauphin of France, will
inspire tales of romance and adventure for the pen of the imaginative
writer.
However, he was proved dead to the satisfaction of those empowered to
apprehend him, and to the satisfaction of those most vitally interested
in the punishment of the murderer, and all further search for Booth was
abandoned. Robert Todd Lincoln, eldest son of the President, who was
on General Grant’s staff at the time of the tragedy, gave a statement
in his eighty-second year to the effect that he had never doubted that
Booth met his death in the Garrett barn; that the evidence produced at
the time was sufficiently conclusive, and that the numerous stories
of the escape of the assassin were merely fabrications created for
sensation.
From the diary of Booth, discovered on his body after his death, the
whole scheme of the actor was disclosed. The repeated failure of a plan
to kidnap the President while he was driving or walking about the city,
and take him by force to Richmond and keep him there as a hostage for
the release of a large group of Confederate prisoners, was the reason
that brought Booth finally to the point of planning assassination.
This diary was not produced at the trial of the conspirators, nor
did it receive publication in the newspapers until President Johnson
ordered a certified copy of it sent to him two years later. Then, on
Wednesday, May 22, 1867, the _National Republican_ printed a certified
copy of it together with the facts connected with its capture.
TO THE PRESIDENT
The following is a copy of the writing (which was in pencil) found in
the diary taken from the body of J. Wilkes Booth.
OFFICIAL COPY:
J. Holt
Judge Advocate General
Te Amo
April 13-14--Friday the Ides.
Until to-day nothing was ever thought of sacrificing to our country’s
wrongs. For six months we had worked to capture. But our cause was
almost lost. Something decisive and great must be done. But its
failure was owing to others who did not strike for their country with
a heart. I struck boldly and not as the papers say. I walked with a
firm step through a thousand of his friends, was stopped, but pushed
in. A colonel was at his side. I shouted “_sic semper_” before I
fired. In jumping broke my leg. I passed all his pickets. Rode sixty
miles that night with the bone of my leg tearing the flesh at every
jump.
I can never repent it though we hated to kill. Our country owed all
her troubles to him and God simply made me the instrument of His
punishment.
The country is not
April 15, 1865.
what it was. This forced union is not what I have loved. I care not
what becomes of me. I have no desire to out-live my country. This
night (before he died) I wrote a long article and left it for one of
the editors of the _Intelligencer_ in which I fully set forth our
reasons for our proceedings.
He or the Gov’s
Friday 21
After being hunted like a dog through swamps, woods, and last night
being chased by gunboats till I was forced to return wet, cold, and
starving with every man’s hand against me, I am here in despair. And
why? For doing what Brutus was honored for, what made Tell a hero,
and yet I, striking down a greater tyrant than they ever knew, am
looked upon as a common cut-throat. My action was purer than either of
theirs. One hoped to be great. The other had not only his country’s
but his own wrongs to avenge. I hoped for no gain. I knew no private
wrong. I struck for my country and that alone. A country that groaned
beneath this tyranny and prayed for this end, and yet behold the cold
hand they extend to me. God cannot pardon me if I have done wrong.
Yet I cannot see my wrong, except in serving a degenerate people. The
little, the very little I left behind to clear my name the Gov’t will
not allow to be printed. So ends All. For my country I have given
all that makes life sweet and holy, brought misery upon my family
and am sure that there is no pardon in the Heavens for me since man
condemns me so. I have only heard of what has been (except what I did
myself) and it fills me with horror. God try and forgive me and bless
my mother. To-night I will once more try the river with intent to
cross. Though I have a greater desire and almost a mind to return to
Washington and in a measure clear my name--which I feel I can do.
I do not repent the blow I struck. I may before God, but not to man. I
think I have done well. Though I am abandoned with the curse of Cain
upon me, though, if the world knew my heart, that one blow would have
made me great though I did desire no greatness.
To-night I try to escape those bloodhounds once more. Who, who can
read his fate? God’s will be done. I have too great a soul to die
like a criminal. Oh, may He spare me that and let me die bravely. I
bless the entire world, have never hated or wronged any one. This last
was not a wrong unless God deems it so. And it is with Him to damn or
bless me.
And for this brave boy with me, who often prays (yes, before and
since) with a true and sincere heart, was it a crime in him, if so,
why can he pray the same? I do not wish to shed a drop of blood but I
must fight the course, ’tis all that’s left me.
As the Capital City was still under military rule, a military
commission was appointed to meet at Washington, D. C., on May 8, 1865,
for the trial of the conspirators and other persons implicated in the
murder of the late President Lincoln and the attempted assassination of
Hon. William E. Seward, Secretary of State.
Throngs gathered about the Court (sitting then in the Penitentiary at
the Arsenal) daily eager to view the spectacle of the prisoners, hooded
and in irons. Mrs. Surratt was manacled like the men, according to the
account given by Ben Perley Poore.
The Court finished its task on June 30, 1865, and a full report of
its findings was ordered to be submitted to the President. On July
5th, the President approved the report and ordered the executions of
Mrs. Surratt, David E. Herold, George A. Atzerodt, and Lewis Payne to
take place at once. On July 7th, these sentences were carried out. The
others implicated, Samuel Arnold, Edward Spangler, Samuel Mudd, and
Michael O’Laughlin, were sent to the military prison at Dry Tortugas.
In Mrs. Surratt’s case, every effort made by her daughter and her
father confessor, as well as a group of prominent men and women who
sought to intercede in her behalf, met with complete failure. Although
the daughter knelt upon the White House steps for hours beseeching
a hearing by the President, Mrs. Johnson, and even Mrs. Patterson,
admission was denied to her and all others on the same mission.
The recommendation for clemency for Mrs. Surratt, making her sentence
one of life imprisonment instead of execution, because of her age and
sex, was signed by all members of the Court except General Lew Wallace,
A. P. Howe, Colonel R. Clennin, and T. M. Harris. This paper was
prepared, signed, and given to Judge Holt to be handed to the President
with the findings of the Court.
President Johnson declared this petition never reached him, and the
supposition is that it was either blocked or mislaid accidentally or
intentionally in the War Department.
Great was the furore stirred up in legal circles over this trial, and
dissenting opinion was freely expressed. Judge Andrew Wiley, of the
District Supreme Court, known as one of the strongest characters on
the bench, did not concur in the plans for a military trial for the
conspirators. He arose early on the morning of the execution day to
sign a writ of habeas corpus for the release of Mrs. Surratt. Judge
Wiley, a devoted friend of Abraham Lincoln, having received his
appointment to the bench from him, believed that the legality of Mrs.
Surratt’s conviction by court martial should be determined by a civil
court. He concurred in the effort to secure a stay of execution by
signing the writ of habeas corpus, directing General Hancock to produce
her in court. The writ was served, but General Hancock did not obey
it. Judge Wiley’s scathing rebuke to the military authorities for thus
ignoring and overriding the civil powers is one of the most notable in
the annals of court history.
During the short period of the trial, from May 8th to June 30th, 403
witnesses were subpœnaed, 247 examined for the prosecution, 236 for the
defense, 4,300 pages of legal copy testimony taken, with an additional
700 pages of arguments.
John Surratt, whose intimate association with Booth led to his mother’s
being implicated, escaped to Canada and for two years evaded capture.
Finally, he was apprehended, but owing to the odium that had followed
the Military Commission, he had a civil court trial. This grew into
such a bitter controversy over the execution of his mother that it
became more of a trial of a former court than of himself, and through
the failure of the jury to agree he was released.
The first great task of President Johnson was the disbandment of the
army. As a fitting climax to their four years of terrible struggle
and hardship, President Lincoln had planned the Grand Review in
Washington for May 23 and 24, 1865. To completing the preparations
for this notable event, the President and Secretary Stanton devoted
much attention, keenly aware of the impression which the assembly
of the nation’s armed force would make upon the minds of foreign
representatives and of its influence upon the general public.
As the time for the pageant drew near, there came a lifting of the
gloom that had enveloped the capital, still a tented city surrounded on
a circuit of thirty-seven miles by a ring of sixty-eight armed forts,
with their encircling watch fires--a picture that had inspired Julia
Ward Howe to write the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” Public squares
were still occupied by camps, and all available structures, converted
into hospitals, were filled to overflowing with wounded soldiers.
Washington’s streets were notorious for their clouds of dust or wallows
of sticky mud. As the dust prevailed at this period, the services of
the Fire Department were necessary on both mornings to sprinkle the
line of march to make the passing of the procession fairly comfortable
for marchers and onlookers. Patrols guarded the intersections.
Upon the grassy hillsides and steps of the Capitol were massed the
city’s school children in gala dress, with wreaths, flags, and
bouquets, ready to greet the conquering hosts with patriotic songs.
Four gaily decorated reviewing stands were erected in front of the
White House for officials and celebrities. With the President were
the members of the Cabinet and General U. S. Grant. Every window,
roof, and tree presented its full limit of spectators while every
foot of standing room along the entire line of march was filled with
enthusiastic people.
With military promptness, on each morning at 9 o’clock, the great
divisions of the army began their movement down Capitol Hill. The Army
of the Potomac, with General George A. Meade commanding, occupied the
entire day on Tuesday in passing in review, while Sherman’s army, with
its two wings--the Army of Tennessee commanded by Major General John
A. Logan, affectionately called “Black Jack” by his men because of
his swarthy complexion, and the Army of Georgia, in command of Major
General Henry D. Slocum--kept a weary audience shouting applause until
dark on Wednesday. Before the columns started, the young women and
girls of the city decked officers, men, horses, cannon, and guns with
floral wreaths, garlands, and bouquets, and as each officer passed, he
received a special ovation.
Brevet Major General George M. Custer, in command of the cavalry of
the Army of the Potomac, was a picturesque figure, mounted upon a
handsome stallion, his long hair reaching to his shoulders. Just as
the procession turned into Pennsylvania Avenue from Fifteenth Street,
the onlookers were horrified to see his horse rear and wildly dash up
the street. The General’s hat flew off, and everyone expected to see
him pitched to the ground and killed. But fears were turned to shouts
of admiration at his horsemanship when he suddenly quieted the horse,
turned, and rode back to his place, picking up his hat as easily as if
he had planned the performance. In fact, such a charge was made. Every
man in his contingent wore the Custer tie, a red scarf around the neck
and extending almost to the belt.
A slowly increasing roar of applause greeted the coming of Sherman and
Major General Oliver O. Howard, whose empty sleeve was an eloquent
testimony of his service. These two rode a little in advance--horses
flower decked and wreathed--and after they passed the reviewing stand,
they too dismounted and joined the receiving party.
Spectators and marchers alike thrilled over the battle-torn flags
that brought forth such storms of applause as they appeared. One flag
alone drew every eye but no applause. It hung from the portico of the
Treasury building--the flag of the Treasury Guard Regiment--a flag
never to be forgotten. The lower portion was torn and jagged, not by
bullet or shell, but by the spur on the boot of Booth the assassin,
when he had jumped from the presidential box to the stage in Ford’s
Theatre.
No military pageant in the history of the world had ever surpassed or
equalled this review in size or character. The four years of constant
conflict with a foe equally fine in every respect as themselves had
battered, trained, and polished the raw recruits of the North, who had
responded so quickly to President Lincoln’s call for volunteers, into
the finest military organization in the world, unmatched anywhere save
by their Confederate antagonists, also trained in the same rigorous
school of experience.
From early morning until dark, on each day, eighty thousand bronzed
patriots, in a column reaching from curb to curb, tramped up
Pennsylvania Avenue to the triumphant music of their bands. Powerful,
grim, relentless, they typified the rigours of war. Upon them still
was the atmosphere of the conquest of half a continent reflected in
their resolute faces and their worn clothes. No dress-parade soldiers
were these. They were men who had witnessed and experienced every phase
of the terrible game of war and had paid its heavy toll in wounds
and hardship. None needed to scan the ragged emblems they carried so
proudly to know that they had met and sustained the shock of combat.
Veterans of Bull Run, Antietam, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville,
Gettysburg, Petersburg, and the final glory of Appomattox; veterans of
Donelson, Belmont, Shiloh, Corinth, Perryville, Stone River, Vicksburg,
Chickamauga, Mission Ridge, Atlanta, Savannah, the Carolinas,
Bentonville, and scores upon scores of other places. Behind them, upon
these and many other blood-dyed fields, they had left another host, a
silent army whose mangled bodies had consecrated the cause for which
they and Abraham Lincoln had fallen.
Following this majestic and awe-inspiring pageant came the queerest
collection of flotsam and jetsam ever gathered together--the “Bummers.”
These were the stragglers that had attached themselves to the
various corps, odd assortments of humans, animals, loot and salvage,
hangers-on of Sherman’s March to the Sea, drift-wood clinging to the
only anchorage that promised food and safety. They furnished the
oddest parade ever seen in Washington before or since. Mules, goats,
asses, horses, dogs, sheep, pigs, colts, raccoons, chickens, cats, and
Negroes all ambling along contentedly as though their only object in
life was to follow the army--as, indeed, it was. Each beast of burden
was loaded to its carrying capacity with the odds and ends of camp
luggage, equipment, and the queer lot of junk the soldiers had gathered
“to carry home some day”--tents, knapsacks, hampers, sacks, bundles
of clothing, boxes, valises, blankets, pots, kettles, fiddles, bird
cages, camp stools, a few stray cradles, plenty of pickaninnies, and
here and there, presiding over the lot, a black woman. Realism thus
painted a living picture of the vicissitudes of the long weary march
of destruction through the forests, swamps, plantations, and towns
that came within the path of the blue-clad torrent which had swept all
before it.
In this epochal review were numbers of distinguished officers: Merritt,
Macy, Benham, Griffin, Humphreys, Davies, Devin, Patrick, Woods, Carey,
Hunter, Hancock, Ross, Blair, Ward, Smith, Nagle, Geary, and others,
too many to enumerate with any degree of accuracy--names a grateful
nation has since placed high upon the honour roll in her Memorial Hall
of Fame.
Most deservedly interesting of them all was the quiet, diffident man,
with the three stars in his shoulder straps, the idolized commander of
all of the armies of the North during the last year of the war--Ulysses
S. Grant, whom Lincoln had chosen to bring peace to a sorely stricken
land. A silent and unassuming observer, he seemed entirely unconscious
that through his persistent and efficient service the Stars and Stripes
were floating over a reunited nation.
A tanner’s clerk with a series of mercantile failures behind him when
the guns of Sumter opened the war, he was the honoured and loved
commander of half a million veterans, with the faith and trust of
a nation when it closed--the leader of the greatest army from every
standpoint that any man had ever had subject to his call.
Inarticulate in public, modest and silent by nature, General Grant’s
pride and elation in the day’s event were manifest in the concentrated
attention he gave to the passing marchers. His popularity demanded his
almost constant response to the ovations to himself.
During the four years of the war for the preservation of the Union,
there had been more than twenty-four hundred engagements of greater
or lesser importance. In all, 2,600,000 men had been enlisted in the
Federal armies, and while some of the records of the Confederate forces
were destroyed, it has been estimated that they put more than a million
men under arms.
The conclusion of the review sent back to civil life a vast host. All
but a standing army of 15,000 men were disbanded.
The time had now come when President Johnson’s task assumed herculean
proportions. Secession was abolished, slavery was an institution of the
past, the Negroes were free, and the indestructibility of the Union and
the supremacy of the national government were definitely and completely
established. With the conspirators captured and on trial, public
attention turned with redoubled interest to the political situation
and with concentrated scrutiny to the attitude of the new Executive
toward the problems that developed and multiplied daily about his head
in stabilizing the government and reviving long-neglected and stagnant
industries.
Before him lay the greatest responsibility and the greatest opportunity
that had ever confronted any executive of the United States. From a
huge disorganized fluid mass of opposed human elements, each committed
to and allied to some of the varied forces that made up the national
chaos, he must either bring reorganization, a harmonious welding of
the mighty forces into a structure of government to endure, or must
suffer retrogression, the tragedy of dissolution and national eclipse.
Medusa-headed were the disrupting units, and legion the demands, needs,
and appeals for attention and action.
It was a crucial period, when legal astuteness, super-statesmanship,
extraordinary political acumen, expert diplomacy, unbiased vision,
indomitable courage, and, above all, unswerving patriotism and
Gibraltar-like strength to hold to convictions were the qualifications
needed to control the rocking ship of state.
To form any just estimate of the administration of Andrew Johnson in
his accidentally conferred office through such an epochal period,
one must first get a concept of the man--his background of ancestry,
environment, education, and former achievements.
The whole story of his life and public service reveals one of the most
notable examples of self-development in our national history. Never
was man more entirely captain of his own soul and master of his own
destiny. Adversity surrounded him with every baffling agency in his
childhood, and opportunity forgot him in his boyhood. But the fates
that presided at his birth showered him liberally with pugnacity,
energy, determination, and unlimited ambition which, though late in
awakening, drove him unceasingly until the end of his life.
With these qualities, he builded his own career, a sturdy structure of
achievement of which his posterity may be proud and to which a nation
now pays a measure of tardy tribute.
Throughout his entire life, Johnson conducted a personal defense of
the Constitution of the United States, which he treasured as his Bible,
a much-worn copy never being absent from his pocket. However, though
staunch and unswerving in his loyalty to his country, his perspective
was narrowed by his own stubbornness, and his vision limited by his
passion for detail.
In unwavering patriotism and firm devotion to the Union, he may be
compared with Abraham Lincoln, and in the measure of his martyrdom, he
falls not far behind that great emancipator.
President Lincoln lived long enough to see his gigantic struggle
crowned with success, to hear the wild enthusiasm over Northern
victory, and to feel the first great relief in the dawn of peace. His
death, the deed of a crazed actor, enshrined him forever in American
hearts.
Not even a small measure of any satisfaction or acclaim came to Andrew
Johnson. He had turned his back on his native southland, upon his
constituents, and had led his own state back into the Union in the face
of every possible personal risk and sacrifice. With notable courage,
he had taken his stand at the side of Abraham Lincoln in every crisis
through the war, with a price upon his head and a curse for him in the
hearts of all of the Confederacy.
When he found himself in the midst of the delegation that came to wait
upon him with the news of the death of his chief and to witness his
taking the oath that placed the sceptre of a great office in his hands,
he plainly and emphatically avowed his purpose to carry out President
Lincoln’s often-expressed policies toward the defeated Southern
States. With the purest, best intentions in the world, he attempted
to do this, but because he lacked the calm patience and ability to
hold himself impervious to personal slander and abuse, he was denied
the satisfaction that came to Abraham Lincoln before tragedy brought
oblivion. Andrew Johnson found himself put through indignities and
subjected to affronts such as no other President has ever been called
upon to meet.
His official family withheld their support and deserted him, he was
stripped officially of his prerogatives, was accused of treason and of
complicity in the murder of his chief, and, finally, was haled before
a Court of Impeachment, thereby providing a spectacle for the public
during which he was required to defend every word and act of his public
career. Attacked and ridiculed by the press, he was, at last, forced to
stand before the world a leader chosen for his policies when a national
exigency needed him, yet repudiated a few months later because of those
same policies.
His blunders--and that he made blunders is admitted by his staunchest
friends--were due to his zeal to bring to pass the measures that
his point of view decreed as conducive to the best interests of
his country. He met attack with counter attack, and criticism and
incrimination with retort and recrimination. Herein lay the pit of
his own digging--the ever-widening chasm between himself and Congress
into which he was finally plunged on the most trivial and unwarranted
charges. The whole matter was a product of the wild spirit of the
disorganization that was then upon the land.
Through all of the abuse and criticism, Johnson, nevertheless, remained
to the bitter end the same stubborn fighter, yielding not one tittle
of his principles. Brusque of manner and more brusque of speech, he
maintained his attitude, austere, forbidding, uncompromising, and
defiant toward a hostile Congress that omitted no opportunity to
belittle, discredit, and humiliate him in its final effort to depose a
man it could not control for party ends. Exasperated, again and again,
and led into violent retorts and unwise attacks not compatible with
the dignity of his high office, he kept his faith in himself and his
countrymen, in spite of all.
When he was finally vindicated, and that by but a single vote, and thus
escaped being deposed, it is claimed his mask of indifference was so
firmly set that he showed no elation or emotion whatever, unless it was
a sense of disappointment that the long battle was over.
Johnson was born December 20, 1808, in Raleigh, N. C., in a one-room
log cabin. When the boy was but four years old, the father died,
leaving him and his mother to battle with poverty and obscurity. The
child scrambled daily for pennies, and the best that befell him was
his apprenticeship to a tailor, at the age of ten. He had no schooling
whatever, not even a knowledge of the alphabet.
While he was fully engrossed in learning the technic of tailoring and
becoming expert with the shears and goose he heard, through a friend,
of a gentleman of the city whose favourite form of social service was
that of reading aloud to labouring men in their luncheon hours. Andrew
joined the group and manifested such interest that he received as a
gift the book used in these readings. This imbued him with the courage
to learn to read for himself.
In a moment of mischief, while still an apprentice, he and some other
boys directed a rock bombardment upon what they believed to be an empty
house. To his horror, he learned the next day it was occupied, and that
the owner had recognized him and made a formal complaint against him.
Young Johnson did not care to face a session with his employer or be
taken to court; so he ran away in the night with only the clothes upon
his back and the tools of his trade. His employer posted the following
advertisement for the return of this future president of the United
States.
Ten Dollars Reward.
RAN AWAY from the Subscriber, on the night of the 15th instant, two
apprentice boys, legally bound, named WILLIAM and ANDREW JOHNSON. The
former is of a dark complexion, black hair, eyes, and habits. They
are much of a height, about 5 feet 4 or 5 inches. The latter is very
fleshy freckled face, light hair, and fair complexion. They went off
with two other apprentices, advertised by Messrs Wm. & Chas. Fowler.
When they went away, they were well clad--blue cloth coats, light
colored homespun coats, and new hats, the maker’s name in the crown of
the hats, is Theodore Clark. I will pay the above Reward to any person
who will deliver said apprentices to me in Raleigh, or I will give the
above Reward for Andrew Johnson alone.
All persons are cautioned against harboring or employing said
apprentices, on pain of being prosecuted.
JAMES J. SELBY, Tailor.
Raleigh, N. C. June 24, 1824 26 3t
For two years, he worked in a tailor’s shop in Laurens, S. C., and
while there had his first love affair, the young lady being Miss Sarah
Wood. His devotion found expression in assisting her in making a
patchwork quilt, still preserved by her descendants. The story current
of the quilt included the fact that the initials S. W., found on the
corners, were the unassisted handiwork of the young lover.
When Andrew Johnson decided upon matrimony, he returned to see his
mother and to make peace with his former employer. In bidding his
fiancée farewell, he presented her with his treasured goose. Their
parting proved final, for they disagreed and broke their engagement.
Andrew found his mother had remarried. Owing to the advertisements
posted in so many places, no one would employ him, as he was considered
bound to Mr. Selby until of age. His eagerness to establish himself
independently in new fields gained his former employer’s sympathy,
and with his trouble adjusted, he prevailed upon his mother and
stepfather, Turner Dougherty, to travel westward with him. They settled
in Greeneville, Tenn., where the young man quickly found employment and
soon had his own little shop, the site of which is one of the historic
spots of the town.
One of the traditions of his arrival at Greeneville is to the effect
that, on that day, he and his parents passed a little group of girls,
among whom was Eliza McCardle, daughter of the village shoemaker. As
the young lad passed, she prophesied to her companions, “Girls, there
is my beau--you wait and see.” They “saw” Andrew Johnson and Eliza
McCardle married within a year, on May 17, 1827, when he was nineteen
and she but seventeen.
While he had acquired a rudimentary knowledge of the three “R’s” in
Raleigh, he was far behind his girl wife in education. As she came of
prudent Scotch ancestry and was a schoolteacher, she set to work to
encourage and instruct her young husband. He studied while he plied his
needle, and she taught to help the finances of the little home until
her babies absorbed all of her time. Thus, together, they budded the
foundation of his later career.
The more he read and studied, the more public service and politics
attracted him. To become a speaker, he joined a debating society and
tramped eight miles regularly each week to listen and participate. To
lose no opportunity for absorbing information, he hired a schoolboy
for fifty cents a day to read to him while he worked at his bench.
Financial success awarded his steady industry as a tailor and political
honours his determined self-development. From town commissioner to
the White House, he fought his way through defeat and victory in a
continual succession of elective offices. His ambition carried him
through the State Legislature, through both houses of the United States
Congress, through the governorship to the vice presidency, while
accident sent him into the White House.
During the war, he was the most conspicuous figure in official life--a
United States Senator from a seceded state, standing with President
Lincoln against his own constituency. He threw himself into the fight
against the ordinance of Secession passed by the Tennessee Legislature
and toured his state, making powerful speeches for the Union.
This trip proved the most exciting and dangerous of all his
experiences. His life was in constant danger, and he was insulted and
threatened in various places, and was repeatedly hanged or burned in
effigy as a traitor to the South.
Antipathy to his policies and hatred of his acts ran so high that,
before appearing to make one address, he was warned that he would be
shot upon his appearance on the platform. Upon arriving at the hall, he
marched to the platform, faced the audience calmly, and, looking over
the assembly, leisurely pulled a revolver from his pocket, remarking
crisply, “Before I begin my speech, there is another matter that needs
to be attended to. Threats have been made that if I appeared here
to-night I would be shot. Now, if any man has any shooting to do, let
him begin.”
He looked about a bit, and, seeing no move, continued: “I have been
misinformed and will now proceed to address you on the issues which
have called us together.”
His subsequent remarks must have been convincing, as was the case
wherever he spoke, for his efforts won the citizens as supporters of
the Union cause, and East Tennessee not only voted against the act of
Secession but refused to be governed by it.
To danger he was indifferent. It was Mrs. Johnson who paid the heavy
price in suffering for his energetic service to the Union. When the
little family was finally reunited in Nashville after two years of
separation, it was a most eventful and happy day. The occasion was one
of the few, if not the only one, where rumour credits Senator Johnson
with exhibiting any emotion of joy. Mrs. Johnson’s strength, however,
gave way, and disease fastened upon her so tenaciously that she was
reduced to complete invalidism for the balance of her life.
The Johnson element quickly formed themselves into a fighting unit for
action, a procedure that was characterized by Jefferson Davis as the
“rebellion of East Tennessee.”
President Lincoln appointed Senator Johnson Military Governor of
Tennessee on March 7, 1862, with the rank of Brigadier General, with
full authority to do as seemed best to him to bring order out of the
chaos in that state.
Johnson inaugurated a rule of stringency and dictatorship that was long
remembered.
In the autumn of that year General Buell, chief in command, proposed
to evacuate the city on the approach of the Confederate Army. Governor
Johnson determined to prevent this and requested the President to
remove General Buell, threatening to shoot the first man who talked of
surrender.
At this juncture, when the Governor was most alarmed over the impending
disaster, he was visited by the fighting Parson of the Buckeye state,
Reverend Granville Moody. A story often related of their meeting is as
follows:
“Mr. Johnson turned to Mr. Moody, exclaiming, ‘Moody, we are sold
out. Buell is a traitor. He is going to evacuate the city, and in
forty-eight hours we will be in the hands of the rebels.’ Presently,
when calmer, he said, ‘Moody, can you pray?’ ‘That’s my business
as a minister of the gospel,’ said the preacher. ‘Well, I wish you
would pray,’ said Johnson. The two knelt down at their chairs, and as
the prayer became more fervent, Johnson added his ‘Amen’ with true
Methodist energy. Presently, he crawled over to the preacher and put
his arms about him as he prayed, and when the prayer was over, Johnson
said emphatically, ‘Moody, I feel better.’ A moment later he said,
‘Moody, I don’t want you to think I have become religious because I
asked you to pray. I am sorry to say it, but I have never pretended to
be religious, but, Moody, there is one thing I do believe: I believe
in Almighty God, and I also believe in the Bible, and I say, I’ll be
damned if Nashville shall be surrendered.’”
Nashville was not surrendered. President Lincoln relieved General
Buell. In his office of Brigadier General, Andrew Johnson raised and
equipped twenty-five regiments for service in Tennessee, in which his
sons and sons-in-law were all enrolled.
This position was to his liking, and he reluctantly turned his face to
Washington for the inauguration of March 4, 1865.
Much has been written of Andrew Johnson’s words and deeds, but detailed
descriptions of his appearance, habits, and personal characteristics
have not been either prolific or expansive.
The descriptions written of him by his various secretaries are perhaps
the most dependable, since these men had the advantage of seeing him
at all times under all conditions of mental stress and calm, in his
moments of relaxation and under the irritation of attack.
He possessed neither the physique nor the temperament to inspire
admiration or win friends. His life struggle had been too severe, and
all that he had gained had exacted a heavy toll. He was in constant
physical pain, with an ailment of long duration that caused him so
much suffering at times that he stood for hours to gain relief. In
his features, as a result, had come a grim severity of expression,
forbidding and repelling. It impregnated the atmosphere about him and
gave him the morose irritability that his many anxieties accentuated.
His nerve tension was so great at times that even audible laughter
annoyed him.
To offset this, his speech was courteous and suave and kindly, his
manner distant. Fred Cowan, who served as one of his secretaries at the
White House, said in his reminiscences that he never saw the President
smile but once in more than two years; nor did he ever see him relax
from the austere dignity which encased him like an armour. He greeted
friends with the pleasure showing in his face. A deep-cut line or
wrinkle took the place of a smile. The sorrows of his private life, the
loss of one son, the weakness of another, the perpetual illness of his
wife were heavy upon him.
The arrival of the President’s family in June brought him great
pleasure and was a source of delight to the White House.
There were in the party Mrs. Johnson, Colonel Robert Johnson, who
assisted his father in a secretarial capacity, Mrs. David Patterson,
eldest daughter, wife of Senator Patterson with her two children, Mary
Belle and Andrew J.; Mrs. Stover, second daughter of the President, and
the three little Stovers, Sarah, Lettie, and Andrew J.; and last but
not least important, the President’s youngest son, Andrew Johnson, Jr.,
a lad of fourteen years.
Naturally, all attention was turned upon the new First Lady of the
Land and her daughter. Mrs. Johnson, from the beginning, took no
active part in the direction of affairs. All matters were delegated to
Mrs. Patterson and to Mrs. Stover. According to Colonel Wm. W. Crook,
whose service in the mansion extended over a period of thirty years,
Mrs. Johnson was a small, fragile woman afflicted with old-fashioned
consumption, exceedingly pleasant and thoughtful, but very dignified.
Owing to her long illness, she was weak and emaciated, and was obliged
to walk very slowly.
Mrs. Johnson appeared at but three functions during her entire
residence at the White House, and seldom came to breakfast, spending
most of her time in her room in a little rocking chair with her
needlework and a book. She kept abreast of the times and had decided
literary tastes, preferring serious books to fiction. Her husband had
long since learned to respect her opinion and to value her judgment.
Her influence with him was greater than that of any one else.
Mrs. Patterson was very like her father; they were thoroughly in accord
and congenial. She understood his disposition and at once applied
herself to the task of turning a much disorganized and dishevelled
establishment into an orderly household. The entire atmosphere of
the place had changed with the arrival of the troop of five lively
youngsters, who adored their grandfather and grandmother, and who raced
pell-mell, whooping like Indians, through the corridors and halls.
Andrew Johnson, Jr., was put into public school and a competent teacher
engaged to come to the White House every morning for the grandchildren.
To make the White House wholesome and attractive for the New Year
reception of 1866, the first function of their rêgime, was a gigantic
task to which Mrs. Patterson devoted her energy and created a great
transformation. Congress had appropriated $30,000--a mere bagatelle
against the necessities of repairing and cleaning a supply of worn-out
equipment.
The dingy carpet of the great East Room was covered with fresh white
linen, as were also the shabbiest pieces of the furniture. The other
carpets were removed, leaving the oilcloth beneath them. Flowers were
used in quantities, and the air of cheerfulness and welcome that
pervaded the place, where happy children’s voices were heard, destroyed
much of the gloom that had settled over the mansion with the tragedy
and funeral of the previous spring.
President Johnson received in the Blue Room with Mrs. Patterson at
his side. She made a charming picture in a regal gown of rich black
velvet with elegant point lace trimmings, a white japonica in her
hair. She showed much skill in keeping political friction out of her
drawing-room. The great value of her calm, diplomatic social charm was
apparent to everyone, and her unfailing graciousness won continual
regard and admiration.
Her hobby was her dairy. She introduced into the White House the
newest, most spotless dairy equipment, and her daily routine of duty
began with her regular early morning visit to supervise her milk pans.
Her dress covered by a large print apron, she showed a vast pride in
her shining pans and spotless crocks and the quality of her butter,
and took as great delight in conducting friends through her dairy
as through the conservatory. She made all of the butter used in the
mansion during her father’s term, and was proud of the accomplishment.
To her is credited this statement: “We are plain people from the
mountains of Tennessee, brought here through a national calamity. We
trust too much will not be expected of us.” When making this statement,
she was the daughter of a President and the wife of a United States
Senator, and she had no need to explain or deprecate her discharge of
the duties of the position which she graced with such success to the
end of her father’s administration.
In the White House, President Johnson’s life was as simply conducted
as when he had worked at his bench. He arose at six o’clock, read the
papers carefully, breakfasted at eight, visited with the family and his
wife a few minutes before entering his office, where he remained until
lunch. In the afternoon, conferences and callers occupied him until
four o’clock, when he returned to the family group, visiting until
dinner, which was served at five. Then he would either walk or ride
for a while. In the evening, when there were no formal functions, he
received callers from nine to eleven. He had very few intimate friends,
but such as were his cronies came to his room whenever they chose.
Nothing delighted the President more than to gather up the three little
Andrews and such of the rest of the family as could go, and stage an
impromptu picnic in the country. He was a different person in the midst
of his family, for then he relaxed and entered into all of the fun
and interests of the group. When the boys and girls wanted to ask him
something, they trooped into his office without permission or ceremony,
for they knew they were welcome. His pronounced fondness for children
was not well known. They had many joyous times with him in the privacy
of the home group, where, in dressing gown and slippers, he would join
in the popcorn feasts and the chestnut and apple roasts.
The new President made much history in the months between his induction
into the office on April 15th and the assembling of the Thirty-ninth
Congress the following December. He was engrossed in the question of
reëstablishing the seceded states, which was the thought in every mind
and the topic on every tongue.
From the beginning of his rêgime, he made it clear that his own policy
toward the restoration of the Southern states was exactly that which
Abraham Lincoln had so definitely expressed; that the Government of
the United States was erected as a perpetuity; that the Constitution
provides for the admission of the states, but not for their secession
or destruction. Said President Johnson: “A rebellious state, when it
comes out of a rebellion, is still a state. I hold it a high duty to
protect and to secure to those states a republican form of government,
but such a state must be restored by its friends, not smothered by its
enemies.”
As first step toward accomplishing the restoration of the civil status
of the South, Johnson bent all his energies to the task of encouraging
and aiding the states to make the required pledges of allegiance.
This he regarded as a political and economic necessity and his most
important duty as the Executive of the nation.
On May 9th, Johnson issued an order declaring that all acts,
proceedings of the political, military, and civil organizations which
had been in a state of rebellion against the authority of the United
States within the State of Virginia were null and void and that the
various heads of the Federal government should proceed to reorganize
civil authority in the state. He also appointed Francis H. Pierpoint
governor with power to reëstablish civil government.
From May 29th to July 13th, he issued similar proclamations appointing
provisional governors for North Carolina, Mississippi, Georgia, Texas,
Alabama, South Carolina, and Florida, with authority and instructions
to reorganize state governments. These governments had been partially
reorganized when the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution,
prohibiting slavery, had been submitted to them and ratified by them
by the time Congress assembled. Mass meetings and conventions were
held daily throughout the South, where the terms for readmission to
the Union were discussed. These terms required them to renounce the
Confederate debt and the right of secession, and to abolish slavery.
By December, 1865, conventions had met in all of the states where
Johnson had appointed provisional governors. The ordinance of secession
had been repealed or had been declared void; slavery had been
abolished. All but two states had repudiated the Confederate debt, and
all but two had adopted the Thirteenth Amendment. State governments
had been organized and representatives and senators had been generally
elected. In fact, all of the eleven seceding states save Texas were
ready, or in the process of getting ready, to be restored to the
privileges of citizenship and participation in the legislation of the
land.
During all this time, every effort had been put forth to induce Johnson
to call a special session of Congress. Of its own volition, that body
could not assemble until the regular time of meeting. The President,
however, refused. He thoroughly disagreed with such radicals as were
led by Charles Sumner of Massachusetts, Ben Wade of Ohio, and Thaddeus
Stevens of Pennsylvania. His own theory of reconstruction was in accord
with Lincoln’s ideas. It had been approved by the Cabinet. Johnson’s
firm conviction was that, for the good of everyone concerned, he must
put it into execution and he felt he could carry it out more easily
without interference from Congress. He had begun his administration
with the expressed approval of Northern leaders on his policy toward
the South. But to delegate to himself, as he did, the handling of
matters of such vital national importance, however they might have been
approved, incurred criticism that never abated and that soon developed
into open hostility.
He reiterated the Monroe Doctrine in reference to the occupation
of Mexico by the French forces under Maximilian and threw down the
gauntlet by stating that “now that the Civil War is over, the attention
of the administration will be directed, among other matters, to that
objectionable invasion.” This statement, coming from a man whose
forcefulness in his office was already making itself felt, was most
disturbing news to the hostile foreign financiers who had invested
fully $600,000,000 in Confederate bonds, to say nothing of the vast
sums expended on Confederate ships, supplies, and Southern cotton.
Many of Mr. Johnson’s friends believed that this foreign antagonism
started the propaganda against him. At any rate, a cabal of slander
and distrust was started that resulted in the most trying situation a
president was ever called upon to face. Abroad and at home, a torrent
of abuse broke out.
The Thirty-ninth Congress was chiefly Republican. Thirty-nine of the
fifty senators were of this party, while the political disparity in the
House of Representatives was even greater.
Trouble started at once, for both Houses began to form a policy
regarding the Southern States without waiting for the customary
presidential message which, upon its receipt, did not meet with the
approval of Congress. To add to the tension, twenty-two senators elect
and a much larger delegation of representatives elect, representing the
seceded states, sought seats in the legislative body. Both Houses of
Congress refused admission to the waiting applicants, in spite of the
fact that their state governments had been reorganized and had approved
the Thirteenth Amendment.
A joint committee was appointed to consider the terms of reconstruction
of the Southern States, and until this committee should report, no
action would be taken to seat the waiting legislators elect. Congress
thus repudiated what Johnson had done toward reconstruction and made
it clear that it regarded the restoration of seceded states to a full
participation in government a matter for legislative and not executive
decision.
The Republican house leader, Thaddeus Stevens, was bitter against
the South. He declared it to be his conviction that the Confederate
states had been out of the Union, insisting that they were conquered
territory, entirely under the disposition of Congress--a theory
diametrically opposed to that of Abraham Lincoln and Johnson. Stevens
attacked President Johnson’s policy in vigorous terms, denouncing it
from every standpoint. Secretary of State Seward sought to have the
subject brought into amicable discussion, but his efforts to get a
friendly or even unbiassed hearing for the administration policy not
only failed utterly but aroused a bitter contest that was aggravated on
both sides by the persistent lampooning of the Chief Executive by the
foreign press.
[Illustration: _Photo. by Brady_
ANDREW JOHNSON’S FIRST TAILOR SHOP
Now a Museum in Greeneville, Tennessee]
[Illustration: _Photos. by Brady_
THE GRAND REVIEW OF THE ARMIES OF THE NORTH
Washington, May 23rd, 24th, 1865. Reviewed by President Johnson and
Cabinet and General Grant]
Party lines were drawn so tight that arbitration was out of the
question. Senator Sumner then came forward with another suggestion,
which held that, while no state could legally go out of the Union, yet,
by its act of rebellion, it had lost its status as a state. This was
often referred to as his State Suicide theory. He also insisted that
under this plan it could be restored only by the united effort of its
own loyal element and Congress. Under the leadership of Stevens and
Sumner, Congress finally decided this momentous question, rejecting
the theory of President Lincoln and also the radical view of Stevens.
Republican leaders repudiated past professions and declarations upon
which the North had so thoroughly agreed in the conduct of the war.
Through the winter of 1866 and until the end of the session, antagonism
to President Johnson continued to grow.
Acting in accordance with his theories, Johnson vetoed the bill
providing for the continuance of the Freedman’s Bureau, the Civil
Rights Bill, the import of which was to place the Negroes on the same
footing with the whites. Congress passed both of these bills over his
veto. Regarding Civil Rights, President Johnson said: “I yield to no
one in attachment to that rule of general suffrage which distinguished
our policy as a nation, but there is a limit wisely observed hitherto
which makes the ballot a privilege and a trust, and which requires of
some classes a time suitable for probation and preparation. To give
indiscriminately to a new class wholly unprepared by previous habits
and opportunities to perform the trust it demands is to degrade it and
finally to destroy its power.”
Now the advisers of the President began to urge upon him the need of
making more friends, so that he should have less opposition in the
next Congress. As the summer of 1866 waned, they became more insistent
on the importance of his making a tour through the principal cities
of Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and
Missouri. The occasion presented was the laying of the cornerstone of
the Chicago monument to Stephen A. Douglas arranged for September 6th.
The tour started on August 28th and was the most unusual trip ever
made by a president. Mrs. Patterson, her husband, Senator Patterson,
Secretaries Seward and Welles, Mrs. Welles, Postmaster General
Randall, General Grant, Admiral Farragut, and a group of sixty people
accompanied him. He had continual ovation for three weeks.
But his responses and speeches failed to please. They were considered
campaign utterances, and campaigning was regarded as unbecoming to
presidential etiquette. The criticisms did not deter him, however, for
he never allowed himself to be governed by precedent when he considered
principle involved. Throughout the tour his speeches were aggressive,
even violent. He had much provocation, as the storm of impeachment
proceedings was already brewing, and he read of himself frequently as a
traitor who should be hanged.
The fight with Congress grew in bitterness. The President retaliated by
taking the stump in an effort to defeat his traducers for reëlection.
His resentment expressed by his manner, he declared, “I would ask you,
with all the pains this Congress has taken to poison the minds of their
constituency against me, what has this Congress done? Have they done
anything to restore the Union? No! On the contrary, they have done
everything to prevent it.”
“If my predecessor had lived,” the President stated in another address,
“the vials of wrath from a mendacious press and subsidized gang of
hirelings would have been poured upon him as upon me.”
Upon another occasion, he declared, “I have been fighting traitors
South. They have been whipped and crushed and acknowledge their defeat.
Now, I am fighting traitors North. Some talk about traitors in the
South--when they have not the courage to go away from home and fight,
but remain cowardly at home, speculating and committing frauds in the
government.”
The President vetoed all of the Reconstruction acts but they were
passed over his vetoes. The Tenure of Office Act was passed March 2d,
taking away from the Executive the power of removal of all officers
whose nomination required confirmation by the Senate.[1] The President
might suspend such an officer during the recess of the Senate, but must
within twenty days after that body reassembled present his reasons
therefor. If the Senate deemed them insufficient, the officer at once
resumed his place. On March 2, 1867, also through a rider attached to
an Appropriation bill, the President was forbidden to give any orders
to the army save through the general of the army, General Grant, or to
order him from Washington save with the consent of the Senate.
[1] This Act was repealed in 1887.
President Johnson stoutly maintained that all of these acts were
unconstitutional. Supplementary Reconstruction acts set aside the
instructions of the President issued to the military governors,
notwithstanding the fact that all of the Cabinet had endorsed them,
with the exception of Stanton.
From the beginning of President Johnson’s efforts to readmit the
seceded states, Secretary Stanton’s contempt for his chief, whom he
ridiculed as the “Tailor from Tennessee, the Knight of the Shears and
Goose,” developed into open hostility, and he had aligned himself with
the opponents of Johnson in Congress. The President considered his
presence in his Cabinet out of place and undesirable. On August 5,
1867, he sent the following communication to Secretary Stanton:
SIR:
Public considerations of a high character constrain me to say that
your resignation as Secretary of War will be accepted.
(Signed) ANDREW JOHNSON.
Mr. Stanton replied the same day as follows:
War Department,
Washington, Aug. 5, 1867.
SIR:
Your note of this day has been received, stating that public
considerations of a high character constrain you to say that my
resignation as Secretary of War will be accepted.
In reply, I have the honour to say that public considerations of a
high character, which alone have induced me to continue as the head of
this Department, constrain me not to resign the office of Secretary of
War before the next meeting of Congress.
Very respectfully yours,
(Signed) EDWIN M. STANTON.
A week later, President Johnson sent the following letter to Secretary
Stanton:
Executive Mansion,
Washington, August 12, 1867.
HON. EDWIN M. STANTON, Secretary of War.
SIR:
By virtue of the power and authority vested in me as President by the
Constitution and laws of the United States, you are, hereby, suspended
from office as Secretary of War, and will cease to exercise any and
all functions pertaining to the same.
You will, at once, transfer to General Ulysses S. Grant, who has, this
day, been authorized and empowered to act as Secretary of War, _ad
interim_, all records, books, papers, and other public property now in
your custody and charge.
In his reply, Secretary Stanton said in part:
Under a sense of public duty, I am compelled to deny your right under
the Constitution and laws of the United States, without the advice
and consent of the Senate and without legal cause, to suspend me from
office as Secretary of War, or the exercise of any or all functions
pertaining to the same, or without such advice and consent to compel
me to transfer to any person the records, books, papers, and public
property in my custody as Secretary.
But inasmuch as the general commanding the armies of the United States
has been appointed Secretary, _ad interim_, and has notified me that
he has accepted the appointment, I have no alternative but to submit,
under protest, to superior force.
When Congress convened, the Senate voted the reason for suspension
insufficient. The President hoped that General Grant would contest the
decision, but the latter was wholly guided by the Senate and retired
without even notifying his chief of his intention. Stanton resumed
charge at once.
Johnson let the matter rest until February 21, 1863, when he dismissed
Stanton and appointed General B. Lorenzo Thomas, Adjutant General of
the Army, Secretary, _ad interim_. General Thomas, mild and courteous,
presented his papers and was literally ejected from Stanton’s office.
Stanton barricaded himself in and sent distress calls to his Senator
friends at the Capitol. This produced an executive session of the
Senate which lasted many hours. Stanton was ordered to hang on to his
job, Sumner sending him one cryptic word, “stick,” and the impeachment
bubble, so long threatening, burst.
President Johnson’s actions in ordering Secretary Stanton’s removal in
spite of the Tenure of Office Act was exactly what was wanted by his
opponents in Congress, led in the House by Stevens and in the Senate
by Sumner. These vigorous leaders, angered by President Johnson’s utter
ignoring of their policies, rushed a resolution through the House
declaring that, “Andrew Johnson, President of the United States, be
impeached of high crimes and misdemeanours.”
The managers for the House were Thaddeus Stevens, Pennsylvania; George
S. Boutwell, Massachusetts; James F. Wilson, Ohio; Benjamin F. Butler,
Massachusetts; George F. Miller, Pennsylvania; John A. Bingham,
Pennsylvania; William Lawrence, Ohio; William Williams, Pennsylvania;
and John A. Logan, Illinois. They filed into the Senate Chamber and
formally read their charges against the President, who, when his
presence was called for, responded by proxy.
The impeachment court organized March 5th; the trial began on March
13th. The eleven articles of offense were boiled down to five:
1. That the President had violated the Tenure of Office Act by
dismissing Stanton.
2. That he had violated the Anti-conspiracy Act.
3. That he had declared laws unconstitutional.
4. That he had criticized and ridiculed Congress.
5. That he had attempted to prevent the execution of various acts of
Congress.
The papers were served on President Johnson. He appeared with Henry
Stanbury, his Attorney General, who had resigned from that office to
act as his counsel. Through his counsel he asked that he be given
thirty days to prepare a reply to the charges. His request was curtly
refused, and the demand was made that the case proceed at once, ten
days being finally permitted him in which to prepare his defense. The
trial lasted over the month, ninety witnesses being heard. When this
sensational jury voted, thirty-five declared the President guilty and
nineteen voted not guilty. Immediately after the announcement by Chief
Justice that two thirds of the Senators had not voted him guilty,
President Johnson was acquitted.
Analyzed and stripped of all superfluous matter, the difficulty
revealed itself strictly as a contest between the executive and the
legislative branches of the government. Naturally, during the war,
the executive branch had eclipsed the other two. After the death of
President Lincoln, powerful leaders in the two houses clamoured for the
subordination of the executive branch to the legislative. Mr. Johnson’s
firm fight for the independence of the Executive was in reality
the cause of his unpopularity. Had he been impeached, undoubtedly
succeeding presidents would have found their position stripped of many
of its prerogatives and reduced to that of being mere figureheads.
This bare escape, though by a single vote, was, nevertheless, a
victory. It kept the nation from having still another cataclysm over
the selection of a successor to the President. But, for the balance of
his term, President Johnson was entirely ignored by Congress, or at
least the part that had opposed him so vigorously. It passed bills over
his veto with apparent delight, and he went out of office despised and
ignored by such of its members as had fought him all through his term.
Despite all of the discord and agitation that prevailed during
Johnson’s administration, much important legislation was accomplished.
One of the most noteworthy acts was the purchase of Alaska, effected
for $7,200,000, in 1867, under the negotiations of Secretary Seward,
who was greatly abused for having bought icefields and polar bears.
The laying of the Atlantic cable was another achievement. On December
25, 1868, President Johnson issued his last Amnesty proclamation. This
was universal, and under it Jefferson Davis was released and his case
dismissed, as was also that of John Surratt.
The last reception was so largely attended as to assume the form of an
ovation. Thousands passed through the White House to felicitate the
Chief Executive upon the outcome of the impeachment proceedings. In
this farewell, his policy was commended and the social rêgime highly
praised. His attitude toward receiving gifts was applauded.
The only record of his acceptance of any gift of value was that of
the tea or coffee set presented to him in the opening days of his
administration, a unique silver, brass, and porcelain facsimile of a
railroad locomotive and tender which had been especially designed as a
gift to Jefferson Davis and owned by him previously to the evacuation
of Richmond. It had been purchased at auction and was sent to President
Johnson by Mr. A. Barratti. The boiler received the tea or coffee and
made and then discharged it through a spigot, the miniature steam
whistle indicating when the beverage was ready. The tender carried the
sugar and glasses and container for the cognac. Its sides carried racks
for cigars, and a tiny secret music box, when set, played eight popular
airs. Upon the side of the locomotive, “President Jefferson Davis” was
emblazoned. In front, where the cow catcher belonged, the Confederate
banner and battle flag, entwined with the ensign of France, had been
fashioned into a charming design.
With the advent of Inauguration Day, the Johnson family left the White
House with relief. The retiring President took his departure from the
scenes of his great trial without regret. His trip to Greeneville was
a continuous ovation, with praise and applause upon every hand. It
seemed as though the crowds sought to console him for the affronts he
had suffered. But the dream of his life--the election to the Presidency
as his party’s choice--was denied him.
Johnson’s energy and dominant will would not let him retire to
idleness. Not only did he still continue to study diction, but he began
another congressional race. He was defeated successively for both the
House and the Senate. He ran again for the Senate as an independent and
was elected, taking his seat March 5, 1875, at a special session called
by President Grant, and was the most interesting member of that body.
At the close of the special session, he returned to his home. On July
29, 1875, he suffered a stroke of paralysis, and on the 31st he died at
the home of his daughter Mrs. Stover, where he was visiting for a few
days.
CHAPTER II
FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF ULYSSES S. GRANT
_March 4, 1869, to March 4, 1873_
During the strife and turmoil of the régime of President Johnson, the
prestige and popularity of General Grant continued to increase. His
brilliant military exploits, his magnanimity to the Southern generals,
his unostentatious demeanour upon all occasions, and the wisdom of the
silence he maintained upon the issues of the day, combined to invest
him in public opinion with superlative acumen and the qualities of
a superstatesman. The result of the adulation was the creation of a
gigantic tide of public approval that expressed itself in a universal
demand for him as President of the United States. At this particular
crisis, he was regarded with a sort of reverent affection as the man
of destiny to handle the troubled political situation with the same
brilliant strategy that had characterized his military achievements.
Yet none remembered that this peerless soldier became the victorious
war general through long training in military technique. Following
an expert military education, his skill in this science had been
amplified, concentrated, and forged into a life vocation by years of
hard service and bitter experience in Texas, Mexico, and California.
Every single success of the Civil War had come through the application
to each situation of the knowledge derived through years of experience
and observation.
In all his busy life as soldier, farmer, tanner, store clerk, and
real-estate dealer, politics had had no place. Politics had never
interested him. He seems to have given but the most casual attention to
the political struggles of the great parties. His political inclination
was shown by the only ballot he ever cast before he came to the White
House--for James Buchanan. So it was upon his military record alone
that he was swept into the Presidency, with a million and a half
majority of votes. That the American public did not underestimate the
character of General Grant is proved by the fact that the maelstrom
of political intrigue, scandal, and crookedness into which he was
precipitated wholly unprepared by previous experiences left him a
greater man at the close of his eight years of administration--in spite
of his Presidency rather than because of it.
Ulysses S. Grant was inaugurated March 4, 1869, in the disagreeable
weather that had become traditional for these ceremonies in Washington.
The weather, however, could not dampen the hilarious spirit of the
vast throngs that had descended upon the city. No man ever came into
the office more thoroughly approved and honoured by the American
people. He was the idol of the military through the war; and the
military, in dispersing to their homes, carried and spread the fame of
“Unconditional Surrender” Grant to every city and hamlet and crossroads.
The President elect rode with General Rawlins, escorted by eight
divisions of organizations of military regulars and volunteers (among
them several companies of coloured men) and numerous civic and
patriotic organizations.
Never did Washington witness such packed streets. Trains had been
unloading thousands daily, and every Washingtonian able to leave his
bed was out to do his bit to honour the President elect who had so
greatly endeared himself to the people of the district in his four
years of residence among them. President Johnson did not accompany
him, but went to the capitol early to sign bills. Mr. Colfax, with
the senatorial committee, followed General Grant, and after the
installation of the Vice President, the presidential oath was given to
the incoming President by Chief Justice Chase in the presence of the
multitude assembled around the East Portico. The inaugural address was
brief and direct and set forth the fact that he “would have a definite
policy of his own upon all subjects to recommend but none to enforce
against the will of the people.”
The General’s prideful family sat close by. His little daughter Nellie,
startled at the confusion, ran with childish instinct to her father for
protection and, after getting hold of his hand, remained contentedly at
his side.
The climax of the day’s events was the ball held in the north wing of
the Treasury Department.
The President and Mrs. Grant and Vice President and Mrs. Colfax
attended. Mrs. Grant wore an unusually rich and handsome gown of
elegant white satin elaborately trimmed in point lace with pearl and
diamond ornaments, while Mrs. Colfax was especially lovely in soft pink
satin, with a profusion of pink illusion (tulle), offset by pearls.
The affair was horribly mismanaged, causing great discomfort and
drawing severe criticism to the managers. The bitter weather added to
the distress. There were no adequate arrangements for wraps and hats,
no system for calling cabs and carriages, and, consequently, scores
upon scores of people were obliged to give up all hope of finding their
own garments when they desired to leave. There were no hired carriages
to be had, and many walked home through the mud and slush in the wee
small hours of the morning minus cloaks and headgear. Horace Greeley
lost his cherished white hat and venerable gray overcoat in the mêlée.
Many ladies, in their struggle to get into the supper room, lost their
escorts, and, failing to find them again or to get any supper, remained
sitting on the floor, cold, hungry, and disconsolate, through that
never-to-be-forgotten night. Ten o’ clock next morning found nearly a
thousand people still clamouring for their hats and coats.
The supper also was a dismal failure. Half of the assemblage could not
get near the door, much less to the table, after having bought supper
tickets. All of this confusion was bad enough; what made it worse was
that Washington was locked in the teeth of a blizzard. Many deaths and
much illness were attributed to the exposure.
General Grant kept the personnel of his Cabinet a complete secret
until he sent their names to the Senate for confirmation the day after
inauguration. Elihu B. Washburne, of Illinois, was made Secretary
of State. He had been the staunchest defender of General Grant when
General Halleck’s charges and complaints of Grant’s conduct to
President Lincoln threatened to cause him to be relieved of his command
after the engagement of Shiloh. He served only six days, when Hamilton
Fish, descended from a long fine of prominent New York statesmen, was
nominated and confirmed as his successor. Washburne went to France as
Minister Plenipotentiary.
President Grant found his problems multiplying with unpleasant
rapidity. From the start, he had difficulty with Senator Charles
Sumner, of Massachusetts, who was offended because he had not been
consulted about Cabinet nominations, and showed his disapproval by
objections to the President’s nominee for Secretary of the Treasury.
This man was A. T. Stewart, the millionaire merchant of New York, who
accepted the position with pleasure and engaged a suite at the Ebbitt
House preparatory to assuming his position. Senator Sumner’s objections
to him were based on the grounds that it was not lawful for a man who
was an importer in active business to hold the position of Secretary of
the Treasury. Although Mr. Stewart was ready to retire from business
and devote the entire profits that might accrue during the term of his
desired Cabinet service to charity, this was not regarded as a proper
procedure for him or for the government to sanction. The President
requested that the old law, accredited to Alexander Hamilton, covering
this situation, which had been passed in 1788, be set aside so as to
enable his candidate to qualify for the office. However, the Senate
declined, and the President was disappointed and distinctly annoyed
at meeting antagonism at the beginning of his term. The antipathy
between President Grant and Charles Sumner came finally to open
rupture. President Grant appointed George S. Boutwell, ex-Governor
of Massachusetts, as Secretary of the Treasury. This nomination was
unanimously confirmed.
Edwin M. Stanton’s career as Secretary of War was ended, and he had
been appointed Justice of the Supreme Court through the efforts of
Senator Ben Wade, of Ohio. He accepted and took the oath, but never sat
in the tribunal, since he died December 24, 1869. Considerable mystery
surrounded his death; many believed that he committed suicide, but
investigation of this matter and evidence of the attending physician
brought the statement that death occurred from natural causes.
The President chose for his Secretary of War General John A. Rawlins,
who had been his chief of staff and military adviser. Rudolph R. Borie,
a retired Philadelphia merchant, received the nomination as Secretary
of the Navy; John D. Cox, lawyer, of Ohio, the post of Secretary
of the Interior; John A. Cresswell, of Maryland, that of Postmaster
General; and Ebenezer Rockwood Hoar, of Massachusetts, Attorney
General. This concluded what was regarded as a very strong Cabinet.
James G. Blaine was elected Speaker of the House. By this time, every
state was represented in the legislative body, and the administration
had the support of a large majority in both Houses.
Shortly after his induction into office, President Grant developed a
plan to improve the condition and appearance of the Capital City. He
considered it unworthy of its name, and no credit either to the nation
or the name of General Washington, who had selected the site and had
approved the designs and plans made for its development by his friend
and aide, the gifted Major Pierre L’Enfant. With each war of the
nation, the Capital City experienced a mushroom growth in population
and in business enterprise. Then would come a slump financially and
physically. The effect of the slump following the close of the Civil
War was not conducive to either national or civic pride in the city as
the seat of government for an already great and growing nation.
The streets were wagon trails of alternating mud and dust; the
pavements crooked and overgrown with grass and weeds. The parks, having
been soldier camps, were covered with brush, weeds, and even débris
of wrecked buildings, the grassy slopes beaten bare by the tramp of
thousands of feet. The population and business projects alike had
shrunk, and the general aspect of squalor and neglect was heightened
in many localities by the presence of shanties, cabins, and lean-tos
thrown together with nondescript odds and ends of lumber, tin, and
what-not to make shelter for the Negro element. These were pitched
anywhere about the city where a darky family of squatters were
unmolested long enough to get a shack put up and install themselves.
Frequently, for many years, their little hovels abutted some of the
stateliest mansions.
General Grant selected the best man available for the rehabilitation
he had in mind--Alexander R. Shepherd, of the District of Columbia,
and made him Chairman of Public Works. Together they planned extensive
permanent improvements, which were put into execution as speedily as
money was forthcoming. Regardless of expense, the entire city was
placed upon an even and regular grade. High knolls and embankments
were cut down, low places filled, many houses, in consequence, finding
themselves far above or below the new street level.
Public grounds and parks were planted with trees and shrubbery;
pavements were repaired and laid; ninety of the three hundred miles of
streets were straightened and graded, and a great improvement was made
by reducing the width of streets to give to each house a bit of lawn or
front yard. Shade trees were set out. Tiber Creek, so long an eyesore,
running through part of the city, a breeding place for mosquitoes and
an attraction for the pigs and cattle that were allowed to roam about,
was diverted from its original course and turned into a sewer.
For all of this work, Congress appropriated five million dollars, while
eight million came from the taxpayers.
[Illustration: _Photos. by Brady_
MRS. ULYSSES S. GRANT]
On February 20, 1871, the President signed the bill by which
territorial government was established in the District of Columbia,
with a governor, a house of delegates, and a delegate to Congress.
Henry D. Cooke, the first governor, was succeeded by Alexander
Shepherd, chosen because of the great improvement he was bringing to
pass in the city. Governor Shepherd soon found himself in difficulties,
owing to charges that he gave contracts to his friends and to the
friends of members of Congress whose votes were needed to secure
liberal appropriations for the work. However, close investigation
failed to show where Governor Shepherd had enriched himself in the
slightest degree, or had added to the value of his own property any
more than to that of others. His ambition was not a selfish one,
it was for the city, and his ability was equalled by his honesty.
General Grant always believed in him, and as his improvements became
perfected, he was regarded as the saviour and regenerator of the City
of Washington. The social functions at the Shepherd home were long
remembered for their lavish hospitality and for the brilliance of the
assemblages that flocked there under the inspiration of this very
progressive governor and his charming lady.
The new Department of State was under construction. From 1869 until
1875, the Government leased the Washington Orphan Asylum at Fourteenth
and S streets, established by Dolly Madison, for the quarters for this
department.
With the opening of the Grant régime, the old customs of the
White House disappeared. New furnishings and a change in plan of
household management made it possible for the President to make his
entertainments conform more truly to the dignity of his office. Before
this administration, the wives of the presidents had superintended
their own culinary department, but with President Grant’s induction
into office, a steward was installed in the White House for the first
time since Mrs. Madison’s day. Melah, this steward, was an Italian of
considerable fame, as he had served some of the most famous hotels of
the country. A past master in the art of concocting delicious menus
and an expert in service, under his guiding genius, the cuisine at the
White House assumed the dignity and perfection befitting the home of
the President. He planned his dinners according to his idea of the
quality of his guests. As the table would seat but thirty-six, it was
necessary to hold these functions weekly during the social season.
Some of these dinners cost as little as three hundred dollars, but the
usual amount allowed was seven hundred. When Prince Arthur of England
was entertained the banquet for thirty-six guests cost fifteen hundred
dollars, exclusive of the wines.
Social life experienced a very profound revival, taking its cue from
the White House family, as is usual. Mrs. Grant being endowed with
exceptional social graces, her régime was one of charming, genial
hospitality strongly tinged with the wholesome domesticity that made
the President’s house the ideal American home. She loved people, was
a charming conversationalist, and all her life had lived in a social
atmosphere. She was keenly alive to the interests and events of the
hour, and, while typically feminine in every instinct, was also clever
and thoroughly conversant with the questions that engrossed her
husband; yet she never intruded in his affairs. Her influence with him
was paramount through life. He appeared at her morning and afternoon
receptions, and together they broke many of the burdensome social
precedents that had been fastened upon the incumbents of the White
House by previous régimes. The President and his wife dined out. They
made calls, if they so desired, and whereas it had not been considered
dignified for the President and his wife to attend evening parties,
these two settled such matters as their own fancy dictated and lost no
social prestige whatever thereby. President Grant flatly refused to
be a prisoner in the White House or to be handicapped by customs he
considered useless and irksome.
At the height of his popularity, when he was in demand everywhere by
individuals, groups, and associations who sought to honour him, Mrs.
Grant became disturbed over the condition of her right eye, which
had been injured in girlhood by a peculiar and distressing accident
that occurred while she was boating with a party of young people on
the river near her home at White Haven. Through accident or someone’s
carelessness, an oar flew up and struck her in the eye. Surgery not
being advanced, as it is to-day, the eye never resumed its normal
position, being slightly turned. The General would not listen to the
suggestion of an operation. He reminded her that he had fallen in love
with her with her eyes just as they were, and had been contentedly
looking at them for a good many years and did not wish them changed.
His veto settled the matter for all time.
Mrs. Grant established a new plan for the weekly Cabinet day
receptions that became so popular as to be followed more or less by
her successors. She invited some of the ladies of the Cabinet, wives
of Senators or other officials, as well as visiting friends and
celebrities to assist her on these occasions, generally entertaining
her receiving party at luncheon on the appointed day. After the Cabinet
meeting, the President would join his wife and receive with her.
The evening receptions, like those of the Grant home on Minnesota Row,
were always packed with an eager, interested crowd.
One of the distinguished visitors to the Capital the first year of
the Grant régime was the nineteen-year-old Prince Arthur, young son
of Queen Victoria of England, who was elaborately entertained at the
British Legation.
The President did not feel it incumbent upon him either to make an
especial call upon the young man or to give a special entertainment in
his honour. Instead, the Prince was invited to the regular state dinner
of the week, just as any other distinguished visitor might have been.
Among the many problems presented to Mrs. Grant was the selection of
a fashion dictator for American women. So long had the charming and
elegant Empress Eugénie been the arbiter of fashion that, with her
eclipse in the passing of the last Napoleonic empire, women were at a
loss for a leader. Accordingly, they besought the First Lady of the
Land to settle the matter. Mrs. Grant, with her usual wisdom, referred
the representative of the press to Mrs. Fish, wife of the Secretary of
State, saying:
“In matters pertaining to good sense and fine tact, I rely upon Mrs.
Fish. Say to her that you seek her presence by my direction.”
Upon learning that Mrs. Grant desired her to make a statement for
publication as to whether or not the ladies of the Cabinet would
originate the styles, Mrs. Fish said:
“I am glad the time has come when we shall have fashions of our own
and not be dictated to by those who differ with us in the spirit of
our institutions. This is a republic, not an empire or a monarchy. No
woman, either at home or abroad, will be followed or allowed to set
the fashions for this country. So far as I am concerned, the short,
comfortable street dress has come to stay, and the neat-fitting basque
in some form will always be found in my wardrobe, and I trust every
woman will seek her own convenience and comfort whilst thinking of
other things than dress.”
Mrs. Grant’s gowns were notable for their good taste and elegance. The
first administration, or at least the first three years of it, were
rather quiet, owing to the fact that the children, all but small Jesse,
were away at school. Mrs. Grant liked to have her own people around
her, and her family was pretty thoroughly and constantly represented
in the house guests.
Mr. F. F. Dent, her father, made his home with them while they were in
the White House. A most interesting man, he was the object of family
attention and devotion. Although a Southerner who never changed his
political views, he was devoted to his distinguished son-in-law,
with whom he differed radically on many questions. President Grant’s
affection for his wife’s father expressed itself in many practical
ways. When serious reverses came to Mr. Dent, and it seemed as though
all of his property must be sacrificed, the President bought up the
notes on the old Dent homestead and so arranged matters that the income
from it was paid periodically and promptly to Mr. Dent, who was left to
believe that, through a readjustment, the property was still his own.
Mr. Dent died in the White House, and his funeral was held there.
General Grant brought his army efficiency into the executive office,
along with two of his generals, Babcock and Porter; and with his genius
for organizing, he soon had a schedule that left him a little time to
follow the pursuits that diverted and rested him.
An early riser, seven o’clock found him reading the papers. He
breakfasted with his family at eight o’clock, then went for a stroll to
enjoy his cigar. By ten he was in his office ready for the day’s tasks,
and when three o’clock came he considered the day’s work completed
sufficiently for him to leave his desk.
A daily pleasure was the visit to his horses, which were a hobby.
After making the rounds and giving a word or a pat to each, he enjoyed
a walk or drive, the latter usually to please his wife. His horses
were Cincinnatus, a dark bay charger; St. Louis, and Egypt, carriage
horses, beautifully matched; Julia, for a buggy; Billy Button and Red.
Shetland ponies; Jeff Davis, a saddle horse quite hard to manage;
Jennie and Mary, the property of Miss Nellie. Five vehicles found place
in the carriage house, and thus the tastes and fancy of every member
of the family were considered--a landau, barouche, top buggy, pony
phaëton, and road wagon.
General Grant’s love for horses had become proverbial before he became
President. At the time that he was elected, he had a stock farm near
St. Louis, where it is said he kept more than a hundred animals.
Cincinnatus was a good saddle horse, and the President could ride him
to any part of the city and leave him standing unhitched for any length
of time. He never became frightened at parades or street fights or
commotion.
One of Grant’s best horses was named Butcher’s Boy, into the possession
of which he came in an odd way. General Grant was riding through the
city one day and attempted to pass a butcher’s wagon, which was jogging
along in front of him. The boy driving the horse whipped up and the
General whipped up, and the two had a lively race. Grant was in a
light rig and the boy had no idea in the world that he was racing the
President of the United States. His horse was so good, however, that he
kept ahead for a long distance, and President Grant admired him so much
that, when the wagon stopped at a butcher’s shop, he made note of the
place. Some days after this, he sent one of his friends to look at the
horse and purchase it if possible. The result was that the butcher’s
horse took his place in the White House stables.
During his administration, new stables of the White House were built.
The family dinner hour was five o’clock, and the master of the
establishment required punctuality from all of his household. The table
was invariably set to accommodate half a dozen extra guests, and
there were few days in the strenuous eight years when the family dined
alone. With old-fashioned wifely care, Mrs. Grant saw to it that the
dishes the President especially liked were included in the menus. His
favourite dessert, rice pudding, gained international fame as concocted
under the direction of the incomparable steward.
General Grant’s presidency simply transferred the national interest
from the house on Minnesota Row, given him by an admiring public,
to the White House. His election and inauguration also brought to
publication many interesting stories of his boyhood, youth, and
military career through which his pride in his sturdy all-American
ancestry, the events and exploits which made him so rich in nicknames,
and the youthful achievements of pluck and persistence that cast their
prophecy of his calibre as man while he was yet in his teens all became
household history. Familiar, also, was thus made the life at West
Point, the thrilling experiences of the Mexican War, and the drab,
disheartening struggles of the civilian life at “Hardscrabble,” and the
clerkship in the family tannery.
Old and young alike exulted again and again over the turn of fortune
that threw this born soldier back into the leadership of men; and the
tale of every victory and the record of every honour called forth a
responsive throb of sympathy and affection, expressed emphatically in
the ballots at his election.
But the least known among the treasured stories of Grant’s modest young
manhood are those that relate to his meeting and his courtship of his
first and only sweetheart, Julia Dent. The romance of Ulysses S. Grant
and Julia Dent began with their first meeting--it ended with life.
While at West Point, his roommate invited him to spend a furlough at
his father’s home, at White Haven, near St. Louis. They arrived without
announcing their coming, and he met the sister of his chum, Julia Dent,
then about seventeen. He was greatly attracted to her, the interest
seemed to be mutual, and other visits followed more frequently after
graduation. After Lieutenant Grant took his departure at the close of
one of these he found the memories of Miss Julia so compelling that
he returned to pursue his attentions to her. Their betrothal occurred
while they were crossing the Gravois. They were in a light rig, the
young man driving, the waters swollen and the current so swift from
recent heavy rains that they were in grave danger.
The manner of her clinging to him in her fear of the water inspired
him with the courage to propose to her in the midst of the stream.
In after years, she often related to her grandchildren the story of
the betrothal, placing special stress on the significance of the old
superstition that prophesied unusual strength and constancy to any
pledge made over running water. Mrs. Grant also told the tale of her
dream. The night before the first meeting, she had a vivid dream, in
which she met, loved, and married a young officer whose name she did
not know and whom she had never seen. After she became engaged, she
told her sisters, the dream was “out.”
From the beginning of their romance until she closed her hero husband’s
eyes in death, no one else could ever equal or compare with him in her
estimation of his appearance, character, or achievements.
President Grant was not unaware of the proportions of the task that
an adoring following had placed upon his shoulders as the new head of
the nation still in the throes of internal political chaos. He fully
realized the difficulties of working a miracle in the restoration
of harmonious organization. The absence of political bias and of
animosity toward those who differed with him was a great asset. In this
he stood alone, a figure unique in its isolated superiority to other
party leaders. Advice he did not seek. There was no one qualified to
give him what he could supply so well from his own impartial point of
view. While he appreciated the confidence, loyalty, and high honour of
his overwhelming election to the Presidency, he was not blind to the
undercurrent of suspicion swirling about his every act, or impervious
to the hatred that prevailed toward him in certain sections, nor was
he indifferent to the smouldering vengeance seeking its appeasement in
his undoing in one fashion or another. So he kept his counsel, studied
well each problem, picked the men to fit as best he could, and squared
himself to meet the onslaught of legislative and executive sieges
with the same direct, practical common sense that had been focussed
on his military manœuvres. Of course, mistakes followed, for subtle
intrigues and conspiracies could not always be handled by the direct
open method. From the opening of his administration, international
complications with England beclouded the horizon for a time, and war
seemed altogether too imminent for peace of mind.
The Secretary of State and the President were in accord as to the
importance of an amicable settlement with Great Britain, if that
could be accomplished without the sacrifice of American dignity or
honour, and they were most anxious that the differences between the
two governments over the depredations of rebel cruisers fitted out
in British ports and the depletion of fisheries in North American
waters be adjusted as speedily and thoroughly as possible. Remembering
the advantages and pleasant relations ensuing as the result of the
Webster-Ashburton conferences and the subsequent treaty, these two
finally concluded that a set of commissioners from each nation should
find the solution. The view was supported by Sir John Rose, Canadian
Premier, serving as commissioner under a previous treaty between Canada
and the United States, to effect a settlement of certain disputed
points between the two countries.
The aggressive attitude of Senator Charles Sumner, of Massachusetts,
Chairman of the Committee on Foreign Relations of the Senate, had
produced a strained atmosphere, which the Secretary of State had to
combat in his dealings with the English Minister, Sir Edward Thornton,
as well as in the case of the Premier of Canada. Frequent conferences
opened a way for a plan of adjustment, and the letters stipulating
for a Joint High Commission were planned and drawn up. Very soon,
the Canadian Premier left for England, carrying with him a full and
complete concept of the American stand on the difficulty. The plan
of the Joint Commission was adopted; and shortly after Sir John Rose
returned to England, Earl de Grey, Sir Stafford Northcote, Professor
Montague Bernard of Oxford, and the Premier of Canada, Sir John
MacDonald, arrived to comprise, with Sir Edward Thornton, the British
group, while the American contingent consisted of the Secretary of
State, General Schenck (newly appointed Minister to England), Justice
Nelson of the Supreme Court, ex-Attorney General E. R. Hoar, and his
successor, General George H. Williams.
The Commission, familiarly called “High Joints,” assembled in the
spring of 1871. They took a furnished house in Franklin Square and
gave a series of dinner parties and evening entertainments. Many
return courtesies of officials and prominent civic bodies followed,
including a banquet by the Freemasons of Washington, some of whom
were members of Congress, in honour of Earl de Gray, at the time Grand
Master of Masons in England, and Lord Tenterden, also prominent in this
fraternity.
Monsieur de Catacazy, Minister Plenipotentiary of the Emperor of Russia
to the United States, opposed this treaty, endeavouring to prejudice
Senators and Representatives against it. He carried his opposition
to it far enough for Secretary of State Fish to request his recall.
His attitude in this matter was not the only reason for his lack of
popularity. His private life had long been a matter of gossip. His
wife was an attractive lady around whom much scandal centred during
his Washington residence. The story was that she had eloped from her
husband fifteen years previously with Monsieur de Catacazy, then
Secretary of the Legation. The Russian Emperor, learning that his
representative was _persona non grata_, instructed his Minister of
Foreign Affairs to ask, in his name, that President Grant tolerate
Monsieur de Catacazy’s service until the impending visit of his third
son, Grand Duke Alexis, was completed. To this General Grant assented.
Grand Duke Alexis arrived and proceeded at once to the legation, where
he was welcomed by Madame de Catacazy, elegant and charming in a gown
of gold silk. As the Grand Duke entered the legation, Madame met him
with a touch of his native traditional courtesy--in the gold salver on
which was placed a round loaf of black bread surmounted by a golden
salt cellar. The Prince took the uninviting loaf, broke it, and tasted
it, in accordance with the Russian custom. The Grand Duke was cordially
welcomed at the White House, and Monsieur de Catacazy treated with
corresponding coldness.
Sumner’s antipathy to the President and Secretary Hamilton Fish, to
both of whom he had been discourteous, with his subsequent refusal to
speak to either, brought about his removal as Chairman of the Committee
on Foreign Relations of the Senate. In less than two months, all
difficulties were settled and the commissioners made a satisfactory
treaty and returned. It stipulated that points at issue be submitted
to a tribunal of arbitration composed of five members of different
nationalities to sit at Geneva. In December, 1871, the tribunal met
and each party to the dispute filed its statements. Bancroft Davis
represented the United States, and William E. Evarts, Caleb Cushing,
and Morrison R. Waite were the American counsel.
When the question of damages was broached, a great hubbub followed in
England, instigated by the opposition party to the government. The
English press demanded that negotiations cease unless the claims of
the United States were withdrawn, and naturally the situation became
tense and critical. The American counsel maintained that the British
government had agreed to submit points of dispute to arbitration,
and a treaty had been made and accepted by the two nations to this
effect. Feeling became so bitter in England that the two countries
came near to war, and our own State Department was put to a severe
test. Secretary Fish displayed most able diplomacy in that he yielded
nothing of American national dignity and yet avoided false moves likely
to irritate and complicate. Finally, the arbitrators exercised their
right to decide that the claims were out of court and in their hands.
Thus, neither nation needed to abandon its position, as neither was
consulted. The arbitrators awarded damages to the United States to the
amount of $15,500,000 in gold for the direct injury inflicted by the
_Alabama_ and her consorts. England expressed due and proper regret,
a few more words or clauses were added to the code of international
law between the two countries, and peace and good feeling banished the
threatening war clouds.
The winter of 1871 was the scene of especial suffrage activity in the
National Capital, and a convention of all of the principal leaders of
the movement was held in Lincoln Hall, Ninth and D streets, with such
celebrated women on the platform at the various sessions as Elizabeth
Cady Stanton, Grace Greenwood, Phœbe Couzens, Pauline Davis, Susan B.
Anthony, Josephine Griffing, Rachel Moore Townsend, Reverend Olympia
Brown, Isabelle Beecher Hooker, Charlotte Wilbour, Jocelyn Gage, and
many others. Speeches, conferences, and committee hearings brought
the cause of Woman Suffrage very prominently to the attention of the
general public, and in Congress, one of the most notable of these
gatherings was that held on January 11, 1871. Those versed in the early
struggles for the enfranchisement of women give to Victoria Woodhull
the credit of the discovery that, under the rulings of the Fourteenth
and Fifteenth amendments to the Constitution of the United States,
women were entitled to the ballot; and in order that these heretofore
undetected points might be brought to the attention of the legislators,
arrangements were perfected for her presentation of a printed memorial
to the Judiciary Committees of the two Houses of Congress on January
11, 1871.
Victoria Woodhull is of especial interest because she was the first
woman ever to be nominated for the Presidency of the United States,
being the choice of the Equal Rights Party in 1872. Mrs. Woodhull, a
native of Homer, Ohio, born in 1838, is at present living in England.
Her career was interesting in 1870. She opened a bank on Wall Street,
New York City, where her transactions were spectacular. She was also
associated with Tennessee Claflin (Lady Cook) in the publication of
_Woodhull and Claflin’s Weekly_. After her defeat of election and her
second marriage in 1876, she abandoned politics and likewise the United
States, making her home abroad. Her editorial interests continue in the
publication of the _Humanitarian Magazine_ in London.
Her appearance before the Committee of Congress created much
comment, owing to her unusual costume, which the two members of the
Woodhull-Claflin firm had adopted. This dress consisted of a so-called
“business suit” made of dark blue cloth, skimpy in the skirt, with a
basque or jacket finished off with mannish coat tails. A severely plain
hat with steeple crown topping clipped hair gave a masculine appearance
not regarded with favour by the conservative element.
As the presentation of the memorial was Mrs. Woodhull’s first attempt
at public speaking, she read from the printed page.
While the advocates of the ballot for women were straining every effort
to put forth plausible and convincing argument to win adherents to
their cherished dream, another group of women were equally energetic in
preventing the adoption of a suffrage amendment. They became so anxious
over the apparent advantages being gained by Elizabeth Cady Stanton,
Susan B. Anthony, and their cohorts, that they, too, formulated a
pretentious document which was an opposing petition, and to it they
secured the signatures of hundreds of women who preferred to follow the
old order of things and leave the voting privilege in the hands of men.
The opposing petition closed with the following appeal:
“Should the person receiving this approve of the object in view, his
or her aid is respectfully requested to obtain signatures to the
annexed petition, which may, after having been signed, be returned
to either of the following persons: Mrs. Gen. W. T. Sherman, Mrs.
John A. Dahlgren, Mrs. Jacob D. Cox, Mrs. Joseph Henry, Mrs. Rev. Dr.
Butler, Mrs. Rev. Rankin, Mrs. Rev. Dr. Boynton, Mrs. Rev. Dr. Samson,
Mrs. B. B. French, Miss Jennie Carroll, Mrs. C. V. Morris, Mrs. Hugh
McCulloch, all of Washington, D. C.; Mrs. Senator Sherman, Mansfield,
Ohio; Mrs. Senator Scott, Huntington, Pa.; Mrs. Senator Corbet,
Portland, Ore.; Mrs. Senator Edmunds, Burlington, Vt.; Mrs. Luke E.
Poland, St. Johnsbury, Vt.; Mrs. Samuel J. Randall, Philadelphia, Pa.;
Mrs. Catherine E. Beecher, 69 West Thirty-eighth Street, New York
City.”
Although each war has hatched its own brood of scandals and given
birth to its own tribe of financial and political vampires to wreck
parties and ruin leaders, yet at no period of our national history
have there been more gigantic, hydra-headed monsters of graft unloosed
upon the head of a nation than the series of financial scandals
exposed during the two administrations of Ulysses S. Grant. The fact
that all of these had their inception years before and, like a vast
canker, had slowly and steadily spread their virus and corruption
through a constantly widening area until an eruption was inevitable
did not lessen the embarrassment or mitigate the actual suffering they
brought to the Executive. His own character and simple plan of life
had kept him so far removed from contact with such schemes and their
perpetrators as virtually to render him incapable of understanding a
stress of conditions and circumstances that could ensnare a private
individual, much less a man pledged to the service of his country,
in any entanglement for gain, through which his disgrace would
inevitably reflect discredit upon his country. But President Grant’s
own integrity, which was never besmirched in the slightest degree,
despite many efforts to implicate him in one scandal or another, did
not spare him the humiliation of seeing his two Vice Presidents and a
large group of friends in the Senate and the House entangled in the
exposure of the Crédit Mobilier swindle of the government. The gold
panic and the Whisky Fraud investigation also brought low the pride of
a group high in honour and power. Not only among family connections,
but in the Cabinet and even the august precincts of the Supreme Court,
the accusing finger of suspicion pointed to the guilty.
All writers of the period dwell more or less at length upon the bold
schemes of speculators to enrich themselves at the expense of the
government. One of the first to come to light, and one of the most
daring, was the attempt to corner the gold market in New York in
1869, when the gold dollar was forced to 162 on the Stock Exchange.
Ben Perley Poore, noted correspondent of the day, gives the following
account of this transaction, which threatened to create a financial
eruption that would rock the entire country. In his “Reminiscences,”
Mr. Poore says:
“General Grant was much embarrassed early in his presidential career
by the attempts of those around him to engage in speculations for
their private benefit. Always willing to bestow offices, or to
dispense profitable favours to his numerous relatives by blood and
marriage, and to advance the interests of those who had served him
faithfully during the war, he could not understand the desperate
intrigues which speculation led some of them into. Among his protégés
was Abel R. Corbin, who had been known at Washington as the clerk
of a House committee, a correspondent, and a lobbyist, and who
afterward had removed to New York, where he had added to his means
by successful speculation. Marrying General Grant’s sister, who
was somewhat advanced in years, he conceived the idea of using his
brother-in-law for a gigantic speculation in gold, and in order to
obtain the requisite capital entered into partnership with Jay Gould
and James Fisk, Jr. By adroit management, these operators held, on
the first of September, 1869, ‘calls’ for one hundred millions of
dollars of gold, and as there were not more than fifteen millions
of the precious metal in New York outside of the Sub-Treasury, they
were masters of the situation. The only obstacle in the way of their
triumphant success would be the sale of gold from the Sub-Treasury at
a moderate price, by direction of General Grant. Corbin assured his
co-conspirators that he could prevent this interference, and wrote
a letter to the President urging him not to order or permit sales
from the Sub-Treasury. He ostensibly sent this letter by a special
messenger, but, in fact, substituted for it an ordinary letter on
family matters. General Grant’s suspicions were aroused by the receipt
of this unimportant epistle, and at his request Mrs. Grant wrote to
Mrs. Corbin, saying that the General had learned with regret that her
husband was engaged in gold speculations, and he had better give them
up.
“General Grant returned to Washington on the 23d of September, 1869.
The next day, ‘Black Friday,’ the conspirators put up the price of
gold, and a wild panic ensued. Leading men of all parties in the
city of New York telegraphed the President and the Secretary of the
Treasury, urging their interference as the only way of preventing a
financial crash, which would have extended over the whole country.
About eleven o’clock, Secretary Boutwell went to the White House,
and after a brief conference, General Grant expressed his wish that
the desired relief should be given. Secretary Boutwell promptly
telegraphed to Sub-Treasurer Butterfield, at New York, to give
notice that he would sell four millions of gold. This collapsed the
speculation. ‘I knew,’ said Jim Fisk, afterward, ‘that somebody
had run a sword right into us.’ It was not without difficulty that
Corbin, Gould, and Fisk escaped from the fury of their victims. The
conspiracy was subsequently investigated by a committee of the House
of Representatives, and a report was made by James A. Garfield,
completely exonerating General Grant, and declaring that, by laying
the strong hand of government on the conspirators and breaking their
power, he had treated them as enemies of the credit and business of
the Union.”
Great satisfaction came to the country when Congress convened in
December, and it was manifest that the reconstruction of all of the
Southern states was accomplished, and with the opening of the New
Year, all the states of the Union were represented in Congress for the
first time since December, 1860. Vice President Colfax presided over
fifty-one Republican and thirteen Democratic Senators, while James
G. Blaine, Speaker of the House, held his gavel over one hundred and
seventy-two Republicans and seventy-one Democratic Representatives.
Meanwhile, Congress had established the Weather Bureau, with
headquarters at Washington. Its object was to secure and issue
information of approaching changes of weather and impending storms.
The butt of many jokes in the beginning of its career, it has saved
the people of the country from heavy losses both by land and by sea.
Branches were located in all of the principal cities. As time has
passed, the importance of the work of this Bureau brought measures for
the extension of its operations.
As the administration drew to a close, the effect of the financial
scandals was shown in the opposition that seemed to spring up in all
directions to President Grant. Rumour and query were already directed
toward the Pennsylvania Courts, where a Crédit Mobilier scandal was
impending and the money panic threatening.
Charles Sumner and the President, through a series of misunderstandings
that might in the early stages have been easily explained and
completely adjusted, were bitterly antagonistic. The President’s San
Domingo annexation theory and certain actions and policies followed
in the arrangement for the English treaty were contrary to Senator
Sumner’s ideas. In addition, one of the contributing causes to the
strained relations and widening breach was the fact that the Senator
disapproved of the President’s receiving valuable gifts. He believed
that all such gifts were made with the idea that especial consideration
could be expected by the donor in return. He considered it the duty of
every public man to set his face resolutely against the acceptance of
all presents and courtesies that could embarrass him in his official
duty in any respect. To President Grant such a course would have been
exceedingly difficult, owing to his extreme popularity with both the
military and the civilians. Refusal of tributes of appreciation under
such conditions would also have caused embarrassment. However, this
cause for criticism, added to the other points of dispute between these
two sterling leaders and statesmen, gave sufficient tinder to the
spark of Sumner’s growing antagonism to send him energetically to work
to rally the indifferent or disgruntled Republicans into a clique to
prevent the reëlection of the President.
The importance attached to Senator Sumner’s opposition may be gathered
from the fact that it called forth a protest from Henry Wilson, slated
for the nomination as Vice President to succeed Colfax, who was already
too thoroughly enmeshed in the Crédit Mobilier entanglement to be
considered. Part of Mr. Wilson’s letter to the President is as follows:
“Your administration is menaced by great opposition, and it must needs
possess a unity among the people and in Congress. The Head of a great
party, the President of the United States, has much to forget and
forgive, but he can afford to be magnanimous and forgiving. I want to
see the President and Congress in harmony, the Republican Party united
and victorious. To accomplish this, we must all be just, careful, and
forgiving.”
General Grant’s wonderful success as a soldier, however, was not
equalled by the same type of success as a statesman. The opposition to
his reëlection grew, and no less than seven candidates were thrown into
the field against him. To the campaign of 1872 was given the name, “Go
as you please,” the watchword of the factions being “Anything to beat
Grant.” A serious opposition was met in the combination of the Liberal
Republican and Democratic parties who nominated Horace Greeley, but the
victory was again given to the hero of Appomattox.
CHAPTER III
SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF ULYSSES S. GRANT
_March 4, 1873, to March 4, 1877_
Washington was in the throes of the coldest weather ever known at an
inauguration when Ulysses S. Grant was inducted into office March 4,
1873, for the second time. The morning dawned bitterly cold, with a
fierce wind blowing and the thermometer registering 4 degrees above
zero, and little change during the day. Marching was difficult, and
standing still was next to impossible. Flags and decorations were
ripped from their moorings; the music was a failure, as the breath of
the musicians condensed in the valves of their instruments, making it
impossible for them to play. Many marchers and onlookers were overcome
by the cold. The ambulances were kept busy caring for the cadets and
the soldiers, some of whom were carried from the line insensible. Even
the hardiest and most fur-bundled of visitors deserted the open stands
and abandoned the seats for which such high prices had been paid.
The procession, headed by members of the regular army, followed by the
Annapolis midshipmen and West Point cadets, included a number of civic
and military organizations. There was none that did not suffer somewhat
from the arctic atmosphere.
President Grant braved the cold in his own open barouche, accompanied
by a portion of the Committee of the Senate, Senators John A. Logan of
Illinois, Aaron H. Cragin of Vermont, and Thomas F. Bayard of Delaware.
Vice President elect Henry Wilson followed in the next carriage, after
which came the President’s family.
During the ceremony, the President occupied the famous chair used by
General Washington at his first inauguration, which had been sent on
from New York City for the occasion by Mrs. William C. H. Woddell, the
owner.
Chief Justice Chase officiated for the last time, and after taking the
oath, President Grant delivered his inaugural address, in spite of a
continuous struggle with the wind.
The return to the White House was made with all possible speed, and the
following review of the procession was much curtailed by reason of the
discomfort and suffering imposed by the intense cold.
Although there was no moderation in the weather conditions, the peak
of the general desire was to attend the ball. For months the inaugural
committee had devoted elaborate plans and lavish expense to the
problem of providing quarters for the gigantic ball that they were
assured would far surpass all previous affairs in the attendance. No
building or hotel being sufficiently commodious to house the expected
multitude, it was decided to put up a temporary building in the centre
of Judiciary Square, which should be the perfection of art, skill, and
comfort, designed to meet the needs of the largest throng that had
ever descended upon Washington. The principal room was three hundred
feet long by one hundred fifty feet wide, with walls twenty-five feet
high, and was spanned with thirty-one arched girders. The floor was
built to rest upon the foundation and be independent of the walls, so
that vibration could not disturb their strength. All anterooms were
correspondingly spacious.
A huge American eagle with outspread wings was suspended from the
highest point in the centre of the hall. In his talons he held the
shield of the United States and streamers of the national colours one
hundred feet long, radiating to every part of the hall and terminating
at the arches with coats of arms of the states.
The walls, ceilings, arches, and columns were lined and covered with
white muslin or cambric, then trimmed with flags, shields, bunting,
rosettes of the national colours, and evergreens. The profuse use of
white cotton over the rough boards gave it the name of “The Muslin
Palace.”
The President’s reception stage or platform was commodious and a
marvel of artistic decoration and luxurious furnishings. Several
hundred canaries had been purchased and arranged in such numbers as to
make their singing a notable and unique factor of the welcome to the
President and his party.
Gas was the accepted medium of illumination at that time, and in the
piping and arrangement for lighting, the committee was consistently
lavish. A great sunburst of lights in the form of a rising sun sent out
its rays backed by reflectors from above the presidential stage. Rows
of chandeliers extending the length of the ballroom were provided with
reflectors. Great standards holding clusters of burners for additional
lights were placed at regular intervals of space. Twenty-five hundred
burners were installed to give the desired brilliance to the scene.
The attractive dining hall occupied the full length of the building and
adjoined the ballroom, to which there were twenty arched entrances. The
table was extended the entire length, with sideboards along the wall to
supply dishes of all kinds.
Five smaller buildings adjoined for use as pantries, each being devoted
to the supplies and provisions for one part of the supper; for
instance, one for coffee, tea, and liquids, another for dessert.
With all of the elaborate attention to every detail and the
expenditure of sixty thousand dollars to make this event surpass all
previous affairs and meet every possible demand in the emergency of
unprecedented numbers, there was no provision made for any undue
weather emergency, and what heating facilities had been installed
were wholly inadequate, and the ball was a frosty horror. People came
bundled to the eyes in furs and wraps, and danced in their overcoats
and furs to keep warm.
The arrival of the presidential party was announced by the Marine Band
with “Hail to the Chief.”
The platform, like the remainder of the great hall, was so cold that
the ladies kept their ball dresses covered with their wraps. The
reception moved along rapidly, in consequence. The excellent hot supper
served to them was most welcome.
Mrs. Grant’s gown, of white satin, was covered entirely by flounces
of black Brussels lace and trimmed with lavender. Miss Nellie Grant,
the White House belle, who stood by her mother, was much observed in
her girlish dress of white illusion over white silk. White flowers
furnished the garniture for dress and hair. The gowns of the ladies of
the Cabinet were all notable for their elegance and beauty, and while
the records of details are meagre, some of the publications of the
day did carry enough description to give at least an idea of colours
selected, for one account tells that:
“Miss Fish wore a rich pearl-coloured silk, with flounces of point
lace, an ermine cape and diamonds; Mrs. Boutwell cameo-tinted silk;
Miss Boutwell, light blue silk; Mrs. Cresswell, white silk and black
velvet; Mrs. Williams, pearl-coloured satin with cherry trimmings
with a bandeau of gold and diamonds in her hair; Mrs. Delano, a
pompadour dress of blue and pink; Mrs. Cooke, wife of the District
Governor, emerald satin and velvet.”
Contrary to plans, the canaries did not sing. Not a bird vouchsafed a
single chirp. Instead, paralyzed with cold, they huddled in little,
shivering yellow balls, with their heads tucked under their wings to
try to keep from freezing--the fate that befell most of them.
The champagne and ice creams were frozen solid. No one wanted them, but
the hot drinks were in demand. The presidential party remained only
a short time, and the entire assemblage, after paying twenty dollars
apiece for tickets, deserted the “Muslin Palace” before midnight--long
before the ball would have been in full swing under comfortable
conditions.
With the inaugural ceremonies over, the President had once more to
concentrate his attention on his official duties. Vacancies had to
be filled. One of the most important was that on the Supreme Court,
following the death of Chief Justice Chase on May 7, 1873. Political
preference was slinging sledge-hammer blows to and for those whose
names were presented.
The passing of Salmon P. Chase marked the close of the public life of
one of the best known jurists of the United States. Mr. Chase entered
politics about 1841 as an opponent of the extension of slavery, was
one of the founders of the Free Soil Party, elected to the Senate
in 1849, was twice Governor of Ohio, and served as Secretary of the
Treasury in President Lincoln’s Cabinet. He became Chief Justice of the
United States in 1864, and in this capacity presided at the impeachment
trial of President Johnson. His life’s ambition was thwarted with
the election of General Grant to the Presidency; and with his death,
adverse fate seemed to descend upon the head of his idolized daughter,
Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague, who, from the time she was sixteen, had
presided over her father’s home and until his death enjoyed a social
leadership of remarkable popularity. As the wife of the handsome,
wealthy war Governor of Rhode Island, who was later in the Senate, her
position was one of marked prestige and influence.
Following her father’s death, sorrow and disappointment brought about
an open rupture with her husband that terminated in divorce. He later
married again, but she devoted herself to the upbringing of her
children and died in Washington, broken-hearted and disillusioned.
The President was soon confronted with the distressing features of
the Crédit Mobilier scandal, murmurs of which had already sent his
former Vice President out of office, humiliated and discredited,
and the breaking of this gigantic scandal was the advance guard of
panic, aggravated later by the Whisky Frauds and the fall of “Boss
Tweed.” Although in no way connected, implicated, or responsible for
these scandals, they robbed General Grant’s second administration of
any glory of achievement by the distressing spectacle of corruption,
thievery, and graft disclosed on the part of trusted and honoured
government officials.
Like the slowly gathering force of a distant storm, whose thunderings
and rumblings warn of the coming fury, so the murmurs, whispers, and
threats of retribution, judgment, and disgrace were heard from time
to time from the beginning of President Grant’s first term until the
close of his second, when certain startling disclosures discredited
men high in the counsels of the mighty. It is doubtful if anything in
American history will ever create a parallel to the Crédit Mobilier
as a vehicle for the display of human passions and emotions from the
comic to the tragic. All previous scandals and sensations sank into
oblivion beside it. So thoroughly did the proportions of this swindle
of the government overwhelm the public mind by the audacity of those
implicated that ruin threatened every career involved.
Back in 1862, the march of progress demanded better facilities for
transportation across the plains, mountain ridges, and forests of
the vast land beyond the Mississippi River than were afforded by the
prairie-schooner caravans. In order that the great gaps of distance
should be bridged in shorter time and by easier, safer means, the
government authorized the construction of a Pacific railroad, a logical
move, since the railroads were stretching their network of ties and
tracks and switches in many directions. This Pacific railroad, built
by 1869, at a terrific cost in money and with a prodigious amount of
trickery, reached from Omaha, Nebraska, to Ogden, Utah, a distance of
1,029 miles, where the Central Pacific terminated its stretch of 878
miles from San Francisco. Thus it was made possible to come by train
from San Francisco to New York, a distance of 3,322 miles. By the time
ten years had elapsed after its inception, its directing and promoting
agents were before the great court of public opinion, branded for
crimes, with marks more loathsome than that of Cain, as a result of the
disclosures brought forth in the investigations conducted in the two
Houses of Congress.
In consequence, the Crédit Mobilier held the centre of the stage;
nothing else was discussed; argument and debate were at white heat;
and every man who feared implication lived upon the rack in a torture
of suspense. Two members of the House, Oakes Ames, of Massachusetts,
and James Brooks, were slated for expulsion, while the same sentence
threatened Senator James W. Patterson. But Congress became too
demoralized and too apprehensive as to where the accusing finger would
tag another victim to take any more decisive action than censure. Ames
and Brooks, weary, ill, and shaken by the efforts to make of them the
scapegoats, died in the opening days of the new administration, within
two months of the investigation. James Brooks, who had been a trusted
government director of the Union Pacific, died April 30, 1873; while
the bluff, free-handed manufacturer, Ames, followed him a few days
later, on May 8, 1873.
Ben Perley Poore explains the Crédit Mobilier in part as follows:
“The Crédit Mobilier made a great deal of talk, although comparatively
few people knew what it was about. Under various acts of Congress
granting aid to the Union Pacific Railroad, that corporation was to
receive 12,800 acres of land per mile, or about 12,000,000 acres
in all, and government 6 per cent. bonds for the amount of $12,000
per mile for one portion of the road; $32,000 per mile for another
portion; and $48,000 per mile for another. In addition to these
subsidies, the company was authorized to issue its own first-mortgage
bonds to an amount equal to the government bonds and to organize a
capital stock not to exceed one hundred million dollars. All of this
constituted a magnificent fund, and it soon became evident that the
road could be built for at least twenty million dollars less than the
resources claimed. The honest way would have been to build the road
as economically as possible and give the government the benefit of
the saving. Instead, the directors concocted a scheme whereby they
could command the whole amount, and after building the road, divide
the surplus. They decided to become contractors and hire themselves to
build the road.
“To complete their fraud successfully, without exciting public
attention, and to cover their tracks, was a complicated matter. They
secured several attorneys skilled in the intricacies of railroad
fraud, and with falsified statements and some advice, the machinery
of the transaction was arranged satisfactorily. Samuel J. Tilden was
their attorney. In order to avoid personal liability and give the
movement the appearance of legality, the directors purchased the
charter of the Pennsylvania Fiscal Agency and changed its name to the
Crédit Mobilier of America. This was in 1864, and at this time two
million dollars’ worth of stock had been subscribed to the railroad
company and two hundred eighteen dollars paid in. Samuel J. Tilden
had personally subscribed twenty thousand dollars. The first thing
the Crédit Mobilier did was to buy in all of this stock and to bring
the Railroad Company and the Crédit Mobilier under one management and
the same set of officers. Then the directors of the Railroad Company,
through certain middlemen, awarded the contract for building the
road to the Crédit Mobilier; in other words, to themselves, for from
twenty thousand to thirty thousand dollars per mile more than it was
worth. Evidence which afterwards came to light in the Congressional
investigations showed that the Crédit Mobilier made a cash profit in
the transaction of over thirty-three million dollars, besides grabbing
up the stock of the road at thirty cents on the dollar, when the law
plainly provided that it should not be issued at less than par.
“Oakes Ames, the Massachusetts mechanic, who had made a fortune in
the manufacture of shovels, had embarked in the construction of the
Pacific railroad. Finding legislation necessary, and knowing how
difficult it was to secure the attention of Congressmen to schemes
that did not benefit them or their constituents, he distributed the
shares of this Crédit Mobilier, as he expressed it, where it would do
the most good.’”
Ames being a member of Congress and a manager of the scheme was
peculiarly appreciative of the value of Congressional assistance
in behalf of the Crédit Mobilier. It looked as though its purpose
was to drain money from the Central Pacific railroad and from the
government as long as possible. Any legislation on the part of Congress
designed to protect the interest of the government would naturally
be unfavourable to the Crédit Mobilier, and it was the aim of the
corporation to prevent any such legislation. The price agreed upon for
building the road was so exorbitant and afforded such wicked profit to
the Crédit Mobilier that it was almost certain some honest friend of
the people would demand that Congress should protect the Treasury from
such robbery. Accordingly, it was determined to interest in the scheme
enough members of Congress to prevent any protection of the National
Treasury at the expense of the unlawful gains of the Crédit Mobilier.
Oakes Ames, being in Congress, undertook to secure the desired hold
upon his associates. The plan was to secure them by bribing them, and
for this purpose a certain portion of the Crédit Mobilier stock was
placed in the hands of Mr. Ames, as trustee, to be used by him as he
thought best for the best interests of the company. Mr. Ames went to
Washington, December, 1867, for the opening of the session of Congress.
Within a month, he entered into contracts with a considerable number
of members of Congress of both Houses to let them have shares of stock
in the Crédit Mobilier Company at par, with interest thereon from the
first day of the previous July.
Ames was not the only member of the Company engaged in placing stock
where it would benefit the corporation. Doctor Durant, President of
the Pacific Railway, was engaged in securing his friends in the same
way, and he received a portion of the stock to be used in this manner.
Mr. Henry S. M’Comb of Delaware was also interested in a scheme to
put in his claim for a part of the stock which was being used as a
corruption fund for his friends. The claim involved him in a quarrel
with Ames, and the stock he claimed was assigned to Ames. In 1872,
the quarrel reached such a pitch that M’Comb made the facts public
and published a list of the Congressmen with whom Ames had said he
had placed his stock, giving the number of shares sold to each. This
list included Schuyler Colfax, Vice President of the United States;
Henry Wilson, Senator from Massachusetts; James W. Patterson, Senator
from New Hampshire; John A. Logan, Senator from Illinois; James G.
Blaine, Member of the House from Maine, and Speaker; W. D. Kelly of
Pennsylvania; James A. Garfield of Ohio; James Brooks of New York; John
A. Bingham of Ohio; Henry L. Dawes of Massachusetts; and others who
were not in Congress at the time of the exposé. A storm of excitement
was created over the country at the prominence of the names. As a rule,
all implicated denied emphatically having ever owned or purchased
Crédit Mobilier stock. They declared themselves incapable of holding
the stock, saying that it would be a crime against morality and decency
to be connected in any way with the Crédit Mobilier. It was a mistake
on the part of Congressmen to deny their connection with the Crédit
Mobilier. Frank acknowledgment of purchase and the statement that they
had relinquished it as soon as its true character was known would have
saved their faces before the world. They would have escaped with being
regarded as silly, but the denials caused Ames to announce that the
charges were true, and that he could and would prove them so. And he
did.
When Congress assembled in December, 1872, Blaine, the Speaker,
wishing to vindicate himself, claiming his character had been unjustly
assailed, asked the House to appoint a committee to investigate the
charges brought by Ames and M’Comb and bring in a report of their
findings. Mr. Poland, of Vermont, was made Chairman. Efforts to keep
the investigation secret failed, as the indignant public demanded and
obtained an open trial.
The committee’s report to the House failed to sustain the denials of
members as to ownership of stock, although it acquitted all but one
of the charge of having been bribed. It fastened the ownership upon
all but Mr. Blaine, and showed them all as convicted of falsehood. In
several cases, their denial was met by the production of their checks,
as was true in the case of Colfax. Blaine denied it, and the committee
report sustained his denial.
The deaths of Ames and Brooks and all of the distressing aftermath
of the Crédit Mobilier exposé left a most depressing effect upon
the public mind. But the dissatisfaction arising from the lack of
Congressional action was increased as the same Congress passed a law
raising salaries of members from $5,000 to $7,500, and that of the
President from $25,000 to $50,000, making the act operative at once.
All of these acts, whether justifiable or not, tended to create a
lack of confidence and faith in the government which culminated in
the business panic of the winter of 1873, with the passage of the new
Coinage Act. For many years, paper money, “greenbacks,” had been the
only kind in use. Silver dollars rarely were seen, and the small silver
quarters and dimes were used only as “change.”
[Illustration: _Photo. by G. V. Buck, Washington, D. C._
THE DAUGHTER OF PRESIDENT AND MRS. GRANT
Nellie Grant Sartoris, who was a White House Bride]
When the Nevada silver mines were discovered, the price of this metal
dropped as the metal became plentiful, and in some countries of Europe
the coinage of silver money was abandoned. This policy was planned for
the United States, and it was advocated in Congress that only gold and
silver change and copper be minted for general use. The idea did not
become popular. Many people became suspicious, believing it to have
been instigated by wealthy bondholders who were resolved to have their
bonds paid in gold. When the government issued bonds to secure money
for the expenses of the Civil War, it borrowed millions of dollars from
individuals and from banks. These bonds were to be repaid with interest
at the expiration of a specific period. People of all classes and
circumstances purchased these bonds gladly and freely, and at the time
of the negotiation of these loans, the understanding was current that
the payment would be in gold.
The demand for railroad construction became so insistent that more
railroads were built than the needs of the country required. In some
parts of the country, railroads were built that did not pay interest
on the expense of their construction. Between 1871 and the close of
1873, twenty thousand miles of railway were built, spreading into five
transcontinental lines. This vast project cost more than a thousand
million dollars. Hundreds of people invested their savings in this
project, hoping for quick profits and sudden accession of wealth.
This railway construction caused the failure of the Philadelphia
banking firm of Jay Cooke & Co., that had invested largely in the
Northern Pacific road. The failure of this stable concern precipitated
the panic of 1873, which paralyzed business for several years and
hung over the country a cloud of gloom and distrust. In the space of
a few weeks, thousands of business men and many hundreds of firms
were ruined. Money became so hard to get that the government found
it necessary to discontinue the construction of public buildings in
Washington, and also to defer payments on the war debt for a time. The
effects of this panic extended over a period of five years.
The life at the White House was not overcast by the financial
depression abroad in the land. Never was the old mansion more gay.
From attic to basement, it buzzed with activity and excitement in
the arrangements for a wedding in the family. A trousseau was under
preparation, and the upper floors were constantly filled with happy
girls. The White House belle was to be married!
Nellie Grant was only a little girl when her father became President.
Owing to his strong objections to his family being the object of
curious interest, little was known of this White House maiden until
she had completed her education. During her school days, her mother
was exceedingly strict and required that she be put through exactly
the same discipline as girls whose fathers did not hold such important
positions. With the conclusion of her school work, she was sent abroad
for an extended tour, receiving throughout Europe the honours and
attentions of a princess.
Eleanor--or Nellie--Grant was of medium height, beautifully
proportioned, with masses of rich brown hair, soft brown eyes,
and a creamy complexion of rich colour. Her face was exceedingly
attractive, with an expression of amiability that showed her to be
an even, sweet-tempered girl. Although quiet and demure, she was a
good dancer and was perfectly at ease in any company. On her return
from Europe, she met on the steamer Algernon Frederick Sartoris, with
whom she fell in love. The consequence was that she had no great
belle-ship in Washington, since, even before her début, which her
mother decreed should be at a formal reception rather than at a ball,
it was known that her heart was given to the young Englishman, who was
twenty-three years old, of excellent family, and who had inherited
a very substantial income. From the moment of their meeting, their
romance developed. But, owing to her youth, her parents would not hear
of her immediate marriage, her father insisting that she wait until
two months before she was nineteen. At that time, on May 21, 1874, her
marriage to Mr. Sartoris occurred in the White House.
Elaborate preparations were made for this wedding, which was the most
brilliant affair known for many years in the Capital City.
The East Room was a tribute to the florists’ art. Expense was not
reckoned in the quantities of beautiful flowers brought from Florida.
The masses of tuberoses, spiræa, lilies of the valley, and other
fragrant blossoms, gave forth a perfume almost oppressive. A dais was
erected in front of the east window. This was covered by the exquisite
rug presented to the White House by the Sultan of Turkey and canopied
with ferns and vines surmounted by a marriage bell of white blossoms.
All interest focussed in the wedding gown. It was of rich white satin
elaborately trimmed with point lace that alone was estimated to have
cost two thousand dollars. The groom wore the regulation English
wedding dress and introduced a new note in wedding fashions for men
by carrying a bouquet of orange blossoms and tuberoses with a centre
of pink buds from whose midst rose a flag-staff with a silver banner
inscribed with the word “Love.”
The bridesmaids, eight in number, wore dresses of white corded silk
covered with white illusion, with sashes of the same material arranged
in loops from the waist downward. Four carried large bouquets of pink
flowers, while the other four carried blue. The approach of the bridal
party through the East Room was heralded by the Marine Band. First came
Mr. Sartoris, with Colonel Frederick Dent Grant his only groomsman, and
then the bridesmaids, two by two. Following them came the President
with Miss Nellie, and then Mrs. Grant with her younger sons, Ulysses
and Jesse. The ceremony was performed by Dr. O. H. Tiffany of the
Metropolitan Methodist Church. The menus for the wedding banquet were
printed on white satin, and each guest took home a box of wedding cake.
Sartoris was the grandson of Charles Kemble, the actor, and a nephew of
Fannie Kemble, the celebrated actress. The young couple were married
in the presence of two hundred guests, including the Cabinet families
and the high officers of the Army and Navy and Diplomatic Corps, all in
their brilliant uniforms. President Grant was deeply disappointed that
his daughter married a foreigner, and he noted her departure with a
sense of real grief.
A few months later, Colonel Frederick D. Grant brought a bride to the
White House, Miss Ida Marie Honoré, of Chicago, to whom he was married
on October 28, 1874. Miss Honoré was of a Parisian family which had
been most conspicuous in the social and financial affairs of Chicago.
Young Mrs. Grant was a distinct addition to the social life of the
White House, and in the summer of 1876, a little girl was born under
the historic roof of the mansion. Little Julia Grant arrived to spend
the last year of her celebrated grandfather’s régime with him, and
to help with her dimples and her baby smiles to lift the loneliness
he felt at the loss of his own beloved daughter. Julia Grant, named
for her grandmother, in later years followed the example of her aunt
Nellie and gave her hand to a distinguished foreigner, a Russian
prince, sharing with him all the brilliance and luxury of life at the
Court of the late Tsar, and likewise sharing his flight and exile as
refugee when the Russian monarchy fell. Inheriting her grandfather’s
gift for expressing himself vividly with his pen, Princess Julia Grant
Cantacuzene-Speransky joined the group of American women authors after
her return to her homeland and her reunion with her three children who
had been sent to America to her mother, Mrs. Frederick Dent Grant, at
the very beginning of the European conflict.
General Adam Badeau, Military Aide-de-Camp to General Grant, who spent
much time at the White House, has given publication to a letter that
presents a charming picture of the Grant family life:
“General Grant’s daughter and her husband had spent a day or two at my
house in the suburbs of London, and the visit had been so pleasant to
me that I wrote an account of it for the General and Mrs. Grant, which
I knew would please them. In reply, the General wrote, out of the
fullness of a father’s heart, the glowing account of his children that
follows. Nothing could exceed the admiration as well as affection with
which he regarded his sons and his daughter, and the interest he took
in whatever concerned them. The parental feeling was as strong in him
as in any man I have ever known.
“Executive Mansion,
Washington, D. C., October 25, 1874.
“MY DEAR GENERAL:
“Your letter stating that Mr. Sartoris and Nellie had been at your
house in London was received while Mrs. Grant and I were in Chicago
attending the wedding of Fred to Miss Honoré. Fred’s wife is beautiful
and is spoken of by all her acquaintances, male and female, young and
old, as being quite as charming for her manners, amiability, good
sense, and education, as she is for her beauty. Mrs. Grant and I were
charmed with the young lady and her family--father and mother, sister
and four brothers. We expect them to spend the winter with us and as
Mr. Sartoris and Nellie will be here in January, we will have I hope
quite a gay household. Buck is in a law office in New York City, and
is a student at the same time in Columbia Law School. Jesse entered
Cornell University without a condition, although he has never attended
school but three years, then in an infant class. My boys are all
growing up. Fred with no surplus weight, weighs 193 lbs., and Buck
who is a spare looking young man, weighs 160 lbs., twenty pounds more
than I weighed at forty years of age. As my children are all leaving
me it is gratifying to know that, so far, they give good promise. They
are all of good habits and are very popular with their acquaintances
and associates. We have had--Mrs. Grant has--a letter from Nellie
this morning. But as I was busy, I have neither read it nor heard its
contents; therefore do not know whether it was written before or after
her visit to London.
“Although remiss in writing, I am always glad to hear from you and
take as warm an interest in your welfare as though I wrote frequently.
“Yours truly,
“U. S. GRANT.
“GENERAL A. BADEAU.”
Among all the brilliant assemblages which have gathered in the Rotunda
of the National Capitol throughout its history, it is doubtful if any
were more brilliant than filled that place on the evening of December
16, 1874, when the Centennial Tea Party was held there to raise funds
for the Centennial Exposition to be held in Philadelphia two years
later. The _Star_ of December 17, 1874, says:
“There was but one fault to be found with the Tea Party last night,
and that was that it was too much of a success. The crowd was so
great from the beginning to the end of the evening that it was almost
impossible to see the tables or approach them for refreshments. The
effect of the decorations and the toilettes was not as marked as
they would have been in a more open space. The ladies who undertook
the stupendous work of organizing and carrying out such wonderful
entertainment had certainly shown great executive ability. They have
proved that they are well versed in the history of their country,
and the glory which belonged to the thirteen original states. Each
table and each lady’s dress was in perfect keeping with the period
represented. The parted hair, and faces with black patches, coquettish
caps, prudish handkerchiefs, and dainty aprons were becoming to all.
The old Hall of Representatives was wrapped in a dim religious light,
which added to the scenic effect of the marble columns and statues.
The Marine Band, in uniform, with their music stands, each of which
had a candle, made the darkness more visible and supplemented the
effect. There was a rostrum from which General Hawley, and afterwards
Secretary Robeson, addressed the vast throng. It was impossible to
hear the addresses for thousands of people were surging and milling in
search of fresh novelties and without any desire to use more than one
faculty--sight. No other place in the city but the Capitol could have
accommodated the multitude. The Tea Party will be repeated to-night.”
In the opening weeks of 1875, the Treasury Department received
information which brought forth an exposure of frauds almost as
startling as had been the revelations of the Crédit Mobilier. The
case trailed its ugly shadow across the President’s path. This was
the Whisky Ring, a fully organized project to defraud the government,
which, like that of the railroad graft, had been long flourishing.
Possessed of unlimited resources, the Whisky Ring had been able to keep
its transactions under cover, since it could engage the most expert of
counsel and the most graceless of witnesses to protect its interests.
The Whisky Ring really formed in St. Louis in 1872, and in two years
assumed national proportions. Through a coalition of distillers and
revenue collectors, the government was defrauded of the internal
revenue tax on distilled liquors. The investigators produced evidence
that resulted in the indictment of 238 persons showing that the
government had been defrauded in the brief space of ten months of
$1,650,000.
Although the Whisky Ring had in some way evaded prosecution by the
secretaries of the Treasury who preceded Secretary Bristow, this
gentleman had a clear case against them before they were aware of his
intentions. The task had not been easy, as the distillers guarded
their movements with great care and saw to it that some of the highest
officers in government service were in their pay, and therefore kept
the leaders of the Ring forewarned as to possible investigation, so
that they might have all matters ready for examination.
The tax levied by Congress was 50 cents per gallon. The distillers paid
the collectors 30 cents; they in turn fixed their returns, giving to
the government the smallest possible amount and dividing the balance
among themselves.
Secretary Bristow laboured diligently to break up this Ring, and great
secrecy was imposed, even to the point of using a new cipher. The
cleverest surveillance was exercised, and when information was in hand,
distilleries were seized in St. Louis, Milwaukee, Indiana, and New
Orleans, and men of highest social position were indicted. The trials
were quiet and decisive. Many of those implicated were sent to the
penitentiary; others fined. Interest was centred in St. Louis because
it seemed to be the heart of the conspiracy. Against all persons, the
evidence was sufficiently conclusive to bring a conviction, save in the
case of O. E. Babcock, the private secretary to the President. While
strong charges were made that he shared in the profits of the Ring,
conclusive proof strong enough for conviction was lacking. It was also
charged that he furnished information, but while his innocence was not
established, neither was his guilt confirmed, and he was acquitted
owing to the influence of the President, who resented his implication
very strongly. He always believed implicitly in the men he selected
for his confidence and service. He felt the same sense of indignation
and personal resentment when it was proved that his Secretary of War,
W. W. Belknap, shared in the profits of a sutler’s shop on an Indian
reservation. Belknap would undoubtedly have been impeached but for
submitting his resignation, which was accepted by the President with
great regret.
Secretary Belknap’s weakness and fall have often been laid to the door
of a young, attractive, and socially ambitious wife, whose love of
jewels and pretty clothes made her demands exceed her husband’s income.
Because of his pride in her and the desire to gratify her in her
vanity, he was led into a step that destroyed all the splendid record
of a lifetime.
William Worth Belknap came from an old and prominent family. His career
in the Civil War had been conspicuous for his gallantry in action.
From the post as Internal Revenue Collector in Iowa, he was called to
the Cabinet. This new honour inspired a natural desire to look after
old friends. This attitude was shared by his first wife, and led to
difficulties.
Many stories have ascribed various reasons for the disgrace of this
previously splendid man. According to some accounts, the jealousy of a
woman acquaintance of Mrs. Belknap started the rumours and charges that
led to the investigation of the private transactions of the Secretary
of War. Owing to the fact that the charges made were proved, the nation
was served with another scandal of most distressing type.
The disclosures made by the lady seeking to destroy the prestige of the
Belknaps caused it to be known that the first Mrs. Belknap persuaded
her husband to appoint Caleb Marsh, husband of a friend of hers, post
trader on the Indian Reservation at Fort Sill. Marsh secured the
appointment and then made an agreement with the incumbent, who was
preparing to bring political influence to keep the place, but who
knew he could not compete with the appointee of the Secretary of War,
allowing him to remain as long as $12,000 of the annual profits were
paid over to him in quarterly instalments. This money was divided with
the Secretary of War for two years, the payments being sent to Mrs.
Belknap. Later, when it seemed advisable to reduce this annual bonus to
$6,000, this sum was likewise so divided.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Belknap died, and after the lapse of the proper period
of mourning, the handsome widower with a young child to care for
sought another wife, selecting the younger sister of his late wife,
Mrs. Bowers, of Harrisonburg, Ky., widow of Colonel Bowers of the
Confederate Army. They came to Washington and set up such lavish style
of living as to lead people to believe Mrs. Belknap possessed of ample
means.
The disclosures of the investigation showed that Belknap, when
Secretary of War, not only knew that $1,000 a month was being
profiteered from the private soldiers, the coloured troops, 600 of
them, of the Tenth Cavalry stationed at Fort Sill, for the small
supplies they purchased at the trader’s shop on the reservation, but
he also knew that one half of it came regularly to him to help him
keep up his sumptuous quarters and extravagant style of living and
enable his gay young second wife to continue indulging her taste for
gowns from Worth of Paris. When an officer of the coloured regiment,
after finding it useless to apply to the War Department for redress on
the exorbitant prices at the post trader’s shop, wrote the details to
Senator Sumner, then charges were formally made, and full investigation
followed, showing that in the five years before this fraud was
discovered $40,000 had been taken from these private soldiers, many of
them freedmen, receiving their first pay of thirteen dollars a month.
As soon as the charges were filed, General Belknap resigned. He
appeared at a Cabinet meeting as usual one day, and the next was a
prisoner at the desk in the police court. He was so distressed in
his disgrace that he contemplated suicide. His resignation prevented
impeachment.
Early in June of 1876, officials and a great host of military men, as
well as hosts of admiring friends of the gallant, picturesque General
George Armstrong Custer, who made a brilliant record during the Civil
War, were deeply shocked and saddened by the news of his untimely death
in the terrible massacre of the Little Big Horn on June 25, 1876.
For several years, much interest had centred around the celebration of
the anniversary of the One Hundredth Year of the Independence of the
United States. The principal feature of this was the opening of the
great Centennial Exposition in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, in the
spring of 1876. The huge building of glass and iron covered a space of
about seventy-five acres. To this exhibition all nations of the world
sent samples of their art, industry, or manufacture, but the United
States led in the display of inventions, which demonstrated that an
industrial revolution had developed. The great progress in time- and
labour-saving devices made a lasting impression upon the visitors. Two
of the remarkable novelties shown at that time were the electric light
and Professor A. G. Bell’s invention of the telephone.
An amusing incident that had been induced by the approach of the
Centennial was the notion expressed in the following article which
appeared in the _Star_ of May 29, 1875:
“Among the lively bids for the success of the Centennial, made by
the managers, is a circular sent out to the Governors of the States,
asking each of them to furnish the names of not less than fifty men
who in 1876 will have reached the age of one hundred years. It is
proposed to supply free transportation to the centennial exhibition
to all centenarians and to entertain them as the Nation’s guests. The
New York _Herald_ raises a phantom of alarm in the wide demoralization
of the aged community involved in this project. The number of aged
men who are in training for the Centennial, it says, would startle
the country were it known. Dazzled by the honours which are bestowed
upon the centenarians, many of these individuals have gone, like prize
fighters, into a regular course of training to qualify themselves for
an appearance at the exhibition next year. The result will be that
next year it will be as hard to find an old man of 80 as it is now to
find one of 100.”
As election time approached, many friends and admirers urged upon
General Grant a third term, their theory being that, if any man could
receive that extraordinary proof of the regard and confidence of the
American people, Ulysses S. Grant was that man. While the President was
not indifferent to the honour a third term would convey to the world,
he was not altogether assured it would be a wise move for him to enter
the contest again. Such vindication would be particularly pleasant
after the stormy period which the Democratic majority in the House had
created with fully fifty committees bent upon investigating every act
of his administration. In their efforts to find cause for charging him
with other and graver faults and mistakes than being a poor judge of
men, and being so constituted as to remain loyal to his friends even
when they abused his trust and imposed upon his confidence. He realized
that he was blamed for much of the distressing financial condition of
the country.
The third term idea was unpopular in the House, and that body expressed
itself in a resolution by a vote of 234 to 18 against the third term,
the reason being that the precedent set by General Washington and
adhered to by all his successors was a fixed custom, and to make a
departure from it would be unwise, if not actually unpatriotic.
According to his habit, the President gave the matter due consideration
from every angle and then declined.
Brigadier General Adam Badeau, who spent much time at the White House
and in travelling in Europe with his former chief, was the first to
read this letter declining a third term. In his “Grant in Peace,”
General Badeau says:
“I recollect dining with him [President Grant] more than once in 1875.
His table was always laid so that half a dozen unexpected guests might
be entertained, and one Sunday we lunched informally in the library,
no one but himself and me. He had just finished writing the letter in
which he declined a nomination for a third term. The paper had not
been read as yet to any of his Cabinet, and Mrs. Grant did not know
of his decision. He asked my opinion of the letter, and I told him it
was a good one, if he had determined to withdraw from the contest, but
I had supposed he would not so determine. The letter was sent to the
press the same day without Mrs. Grant’s knowledge, for the General was
sure it would be disagreeable to her, and he wished his decision to be
irrevocable before she learned it. Years afterward, when I told her I
had heard that letter before it was sent, she reproached me more than
half in earnest for not striving harder to prevent its issue.”
Being relieved of the necessity of again going through the
uncertainties and anxieties of a campaign, President Grant and his wife
began their preparations for their release from public service. As they
had long wanted to travel abroad, that plan was developed while the
eyes of the people turned toward the choice of a successor.
On May 17, 1877, General Grant, with his wife and youngest son, Jesse,
bade farewell to the United States to begin what was in reality
his very first real vacation. He had long wanted to visit the Old
World, see its social customs, conditions, study its armies, its
civilizations, its governments and their workings.
Everywhere he met friendliness and cordiality, and no man, American
or of any other nationality, ever received such a continuous and
unabating demonstration of appreciation and popularity as kept step
with his travels. The Occident and the Orient entered into an active
contest in extending proofs of the homage which his life as a soldier,
a president, and the first citizen of the great nation he represented
inspired. Kings, queens, emperors, Indian princes, and Egyptian
potentates, sages, prophets, great chieftains, plain soldiers, and
great statesmen, joined in greeting this man, as did the masses.
He returned to America two years later, reaching San Francisco in
the autumn of 1879, the greatest traveller of the world, possessed
of enduring fame, quantities of beautiful and valuable gifts from
admiring hosts, and not sufficient money to maintain his family in the
unpretentious New York house he had purchased for a home. How to employ
his time--he was but fifty-six--both pleasantly and profitably was a
real problem.
He was induced to allow his name to be used as a candidate for
nomination for the Presidency in 1880. Failing to secure his third-term
honour, he turned his attention to business projects. Shortly, he was
persuaded that the question of income could best be met by investment,
and hence, after much delay and consultation in the family, he invested
all of his capital in the banking business of Grant and Ward. In
making the connection, the General had stipulated that there should
be no government contracts, since he would not permit his name to
be used in such connection. For a while, everything seemed smooth
sailing; the firm rating was of the best, the dividends came regularly
and plentifully. In May, 1884, without a word of warning or a hint
that difficulties were brewing, the General learned that his firm
had failed. He and his sons were stripped to pauperism through most
stupendous speculations.
Once more the silent General squared his shoulders to meet duty, and
every bit of real estate and personal property of his and Mrs. Grant’s
was turned over for security for a previous loan; not even his trophies
did he withhold. The same trumpet call of duty set him to writing
articles for _Century Magazine_ to provide a means of income. Then
came the suggestion that he set himself to the task of writing his
recollections of the war. Finding it an agreeable task rather than a
boresome tax, he was persuaded to write the story of his life. His son,
Frederick Dent Grant, assisted him.
Stricken with the cancerous condition in his throat while he was
at the beginning of this, he faced the knowledge that he must work
with unremitting zeal to provide a source of income for his family.
Only those close to him had a real understanding of the physical
suffering when his voice was finally gone and the agonizing struggle
to keep on writing when too weak to move about his room. Nothing in
medical knowledge offered any release from his pains, and he struggled
valiantly, completing his task four days before his death at Mt.
McGregor, on July 23, 1885.
CHAPTER IV
THE ADMINISTRATION OF RUTHERFORD B. HAYES
_March 4, 1877, to March 4, 1881_
Rutherford Birchard Hayes the nineteenth President of the United
States, was the only Chief Executive of the nation to be kept
in suspense regarding his victory in the election until the eve
of inauguration, and the only one to be the storm centre of an
after-election contest of such bitterness and scope that a commission
had to be appointed by Congress to determine whether the Governor of
Ohio or the Governor of New York should be installed in the White House
on March 4, 1877.
In consequence of the long-drawn bitter controversy, the result of
which was communicated to Governor Hayes en route to Washington from
Columbus, the inauguration festivities were lacking in many of the
usual spectacular features and much of the customary jubilation of
the quadrennial ceremony, and were reduced to the simplest of public
installations.
[Illustration: MRS. LUCY WEBB HAYES
The Huntington Portrait, 1881, presented to the White House by the
Women’s Christian Temperance Union.]
[Illustration: RUTHERFORD BIRCHARD HAYES
Storm centre of an after-election contest which kept him in suspense
until his inauguration in 1877.]
The fact that the 4th of March fell upon Sunday added somewhat to
the perturbed state of the official mind as to whether or not the
oath should be taken on Saturday, March 3d, or Monday, March 5th.
The anxiety lest something unpleasant transpire as an aftermath of
the contest was present in many minds. President Grant decided to
have Governor Hayes sworn in as quickly as possible--and on March
3d. A farewell dinner had been arranged at the Executive Mansion
on the evening of March 3d, to which he invited Governor and Mrs.
Hayes. Before the guests assembled for this function, President Grant
conferred with Chief Justice Waite and a small group gathered in the
Red Room, where Rutherford Hayes was formally sworn. The fact that
Hayes was duly vested with the powers of Chief Magistrate was not even
announced to the guests at the dinner or known to any outside the group
participating until after the second and public ceremony of Monday,
March 5th.
Monday dawned cold and rainy, but cleared by noon; and although so much
uncertainty had hung over the results of the recent sitting of the
electoral commission, the city was packed with a great inauguration
throng, thirty thousand being estimated as the number of visitors.
The entire route of the procession was magnificently decorated, and
vociferous cheering and shouting greeted President Hayes throughout the
drive to and from the Capitol.
Mrs. Grant had put the mansion in perfect order, provided a day’s
supply of food so that the new First Lady need not concern herself
with a menu for dinner and breakfast, supervised the removal of her
own effects then, as their hostess, she awaited the return of the new
President and his wife, to preside for the last time over the elaborate
luncheon, to which she had invited as many of the official family as
possible. After the meal, which was made most jolly and informal,
General and Mrs. Grant went to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton Fish,
where they remained for several weeks completing preparations for their
trip abroad.
Instead of the long afternoon procession and gay ball which usually
featured inauguration celebrations, there was a torchlight parade
during the evening. All winter, Hayes’s supporters had been waiting
to hear that he had won at the polls, so into that night-time parade
they infused the pent-up enthusiasm of four months. Ten thousand torch
bearers swung up Pennsylvania Avenue singing the campaign songs.
Unrestrained, the serenaders marched into the White House grounds
cheering “Rutherford Hayes, President of the United States,” until he
appeared on the portico to greet them. Waving torches and exploding
fireworks on the lawn made a brilliant scene. The reception at Willard
Hotel drew a large throng who had hoped for a ball and furnished a
delightful climax to the day over which there had been so many dire
prophecies.
The announcement of the new Cabinet brought forth the sneers of the
Hayes opponents and the commendation of friends and supporters. The
intellectual William M. Evarts of New York was selected as premier of
the State Department. John Sherman’s (Ohio) known financial acumen
was sought for the Treasury portfolio. To Carl Schurz of Missouri
were confided the Interior Department problems. Richard W. Thompson,
of Indiana, more of a campaigner and stump spellbinder than a naval
expert, was slated to preside over the Navy. G. W. McCrary, of Iowa,
a country lawyer, was first selected for Attorney General, but was
finally given the post of Secretary of War, although totally unfamiliar
with military affairs. General Charles Devens of Massachusetts, a
gallant soldier, received the appointment as Attorney General. David M.
Key, of Tennessee, as Postmaster General, represented the South. This
group was dubbed the “Tea Table Cabinet” by the Tilden adherents.
The same routine of Tuesday and Friday Cabinet meetings was observed by
the new official family and the President set himself to the task of
combatting the handicap his election contest had entailed.
Rutherford Birchard Hayes was born at Delaware, Ohio, October 4,
1822, of Scottish ancestry. A matter of pride was the possession of
the names of two chiefs notable in Highland history. These were Hayes
and Rutherford, who fought together with William Wallace and Robert
Bruce. His parents, of old New England stock, had travelled westward
in covered wagons and settled in Ohio. This boy was born a few months
after his father’s death. His mother was in fair circumstances and able
to send her children, Fanny and “Ruddy,” as the boy was called, through
school and to give them the advantages of college education. Rutherford
was graduated from Kenyon College and from Harvard Law School.
It was when he was a young lawyer of great promise at Cincinnati that
he met by chance at Delaware Sulphur Spring a Miss Lucy Webb, student
of Wesleyan Female College, whom he had known when a boy. They renewed
the acquaintance, which soon passed from friendship into love. He
was the most persistent and faithful among the young men attending
the college teas, suppers, and receptions. He has been quoted as
declaring, “My friend Jones has introduced me to many of our city
belles, but I do not see anyone who makes me forget the natural gaiety
and attractiveness of Miss Lucy.” After Miss Webb was graduated, a few
years later, they were married by Professor L. D. McCabe, President of
the Wesleyan Female College. Miss Webb was the daughter of Doctor and
Mrs. James Webb of Delaware, Ohio.
Rutherford Hayes began his military career in the Civil War as Major
of the Twenty-third Ohio Infantry. From the time he was commissioned
Lieutenant Colonel, in 1861, until the war ended, his military service
was distinguished by his valour. Promotions for gallantry in action
awarded his exploits. He was wounded six times, four horses having been
shot under him. Of sixteen presidents who participated in the wars of
the nation, he and James Monroe were the only ones wounded in battle.
Civic honours also came to him with flattering frequency and he served
through the Thirty-ninth Congress, was reëlected to the Fortieth, and
was three times Governor of his state.
When a successor for President Grant was being politically weighed
and measured, James G. Blaine of Maine, Speaker of the House of
Representatives, seemed to be the strongest candidate of the Republican
Convention at Cincinnati. While Robert Ingersoll’s masterly nominating
speech of the “Plumed Knight” had made a profound impression, opposing
influences had been at work, the high tide for Blaine passed, the other
candidates combined, and with the seventh ballot came the stampede to
Rutherford Hayes, Governor of Ohio.
Fully as exciting was the Democratic Convention held for the first
time in the West, as St. Louis was then designated, owing to its being
across the Mississippi River. This convention was entirely different
from the Republican gathering. Colonel Henry Watterson, famous editor
of the Louisville _Courier Journal_, was temporary chairman. Tilden,
like Blaine, was chiefly the favourite, but, unlike Blaine, was quickly
nominated.
As his election to the governorship of New York in 1874, with a fifty
thousand majority, proved, he was one of the leading Democrats. Thomas
A Hendricks of Indiana was chosen for his running mate.
The election was the hardest fought, the bitterest, and the closest in
history. The Democrats had capitalized the frauds and scandals of the
Republican administration; the Republicans had followed the retaliating
policy by waving the “Bloody Shirt,” as the reference to reconstruction
policies was called. The consequence was a campaign heated, excited,
and doubtful. Mr. Hayes received but one electoral vote over Mr.
Tilden, and this the Democrats contested.
Senator Zachariah Chandler (Michigan) was the only prominent Republican
leader to remain unshaken in his assertion of a Hayes victory. His
assurance of this fact aroused such a furore of resentment and threats
of vengeance among Democrats that it looked for a time as though
another Civil War might ensue. The Senator telegraphed to President
Grant urging the concentration of United States troops in the Southern
States’ capitals to insure a fair count. The President referred the
matter to General W. T. Sherman, General of the Armies, saying:
“Should there be any grounds of suspicion of fraudulent count on
either side, it should be reported and denounced at once. No man
worthy of the office of President should be willing to hold it if
counted in or placed there by fraud. Either party can afford to be
disappointed by the result. The country cannot afford to have the
result tainted by the suspicion of illegal or false returns.”
The Democrats charged that the election had not been fairly conducted,
asserting openly that many Democratic votes in the South had been
thrown out instead of being duly counted by those entrusted with the
duty of counting them. The votes from South Carolina, Louisiana, and
Florida, where carpet-bag government and Negro rule prevailed, were
hotly contested. Investigation showed fraud on both sides in these
states. Two sets of electors, both insisting that they were legally
and properly elected, met and sent their results to Congress. This
produced grave concern as there was no provision in the Constitution
to meet such a contingency. The uncertainty produced a tense situation.
Some conservatives advocated calmness and patience until news from
doubtful states could be confirmed. Others saw nothing but crookedness
and excitedly claimed fraud. Each party sent some of its political
leaders to the state capitals, where the issue was at question to
observe and report from the spot.
So grave were the apprehensions over the state of affairs that
Congress was called upon to settle the matter. To meet the crisis,
they created an electoral commission to consist of five Senators, five
Representatives, and five Supreme Court Justices. Upon this body was
placed the responsibility for the decision.
The members of the Electoral Commission were as follows: From the
Senate, George P. Edwards, Vermont; Oliver P. Morton, Indiana;
Frederick Frelinghuysen, New Jersey; Thomas F. Bayard, Delaware; Allen
G. Thurman, Ohio; from the House of Representatives, Harry B. Payne,
Ohio; Eppa Hunton, Virginia; Josiah C. Abbot, Massachusetts; James A.
Garfield, Ohio; George F. Hoar, Massachusetts; from the Supreme Court,
Clifford, Miller, Field, Strong, and Bradley. Senator Francis Kernan
substituted for Senator Thurman, who was incapacitated by illness.
Ben Perley Poore, noted correspondent, has left a vivid picture of
the conditions of the public mind at this time, and also the extreme
measures used and the pressure each party threw into the concluding
hours of debate and discussion through which a settlement was finally
reached. In part, he says:
“The counting of the electoral vote on the 2d of February, 1877,
attracted crowds to the House of Representatives. Even the diplomats
came out in force, and for once their gallery was full.... At one
o’clock the Senate came over in solemn procession, preceded by the
veteran Captain Bassett, who had in charge two mahogany boxes,
in which were locked the votes upon which the fate of the nation
depended....
“President _pro tem._ Ferry, in a theatrical bass voice, called the
Convention to order, and, after stating what it was convened for,
opened one of the boxes and handed an envelope to Senator Allison,
with a duplicate to Mr. Stone. It was from the State of Alabama, and
on being opened, ten votes were recorded for Samuel J. Tilden, of New
York. State after state was thus counted until Florida was reached,
when the majestic Dudley Field arose and objected to the counting
thereof. A brief discussion ensued, and the vote of Florida was turned
over to the Electoral Commission. The Senate then returned to its
chamber, preceded by the locked boxes, then nearly empty.
“It was asserted by those who should have known that Judge Bradley,
who had been substituted for Judge Davis, came near, in the discussion
on the Florida votes, turning the result in favour of Tilden. After
the argument upon the Florida case before the Commission, Judge
Bradley wrote out his opinion and read it to Judge Clifford and Judge
Field, who were likewise members of the Commission. It contained,
first, an argument, and, secondly, a conclusion. The argument was
precisely the same as that which appears in the public document; but
Judge Bradley’s conclusion was that the votes of the Tilden electors
in Florida were the only votes which ought to be counted as coming
from the State. This was the character of the paper when Judge
Bradley finished it and when he communicated it to his colleagues.
During the whole of that night Judge Bradley’s house in Washington
was surrounded by the carriages of Republican visitors, who came to
see him apparently about the decision of the Electoral Commission,
which was to be announced next day. These visitors included leading
Republicans, as well as persons deeply interested in the Texas Pacific
Railroad scheme. “When the Commission assembled the next morning, and
when the judgment was declared, Judge Bradley gave his voice in favour
of counting the votes of the Hayes electors in Florida! The argument
he did not deliver at the time; but when it came to be printed
subsequently, it was found to be precisely the same as the argument
which he had originally drawn up, and on which he had based his first
conclusion in favour of the Tilden electors.
“Disputed state after disputed state was disposed of, and Washington
was stirred with feverish excitement. Every day or two, some rumour
was started, and those who heard it were elated or depressed, as
they happened to hope. But the great mass listened with many grains
of allowance, knowing how easy it is at all times for all sorts of
stories, utterly without foundation, to get into the public mouth. The
obstructionists found that they could not accomplish their purpose to
defeat the final announcement, but their persistence was wonderful.
They were desperate, reckless, and relentless. Fernando Wood headed,
in opposition to them, the party of settlement and peace, his
followers being composed in about equal parts of Republicans and of
ex-Confederates who turned their backs on the Democratic filibusters.
Finally, the count was ended, and President _pro tem._ Ferry announced
one hundred and eighty-four votes for Samuel J. Tilden and one hundred
and eighty-five votes for Rutherford B. Hayes.”
While President Hayes was struggling with portfolios and patronage and
combatting the handicap his election struggle imposed, his wife was
engrossed with the multitude of duties that devolved upon her as First
Lady of the Land.
Her appearance in Washington had been awaited with unabated interest,
and speculation was rife over Mrs. Grant’s successor and the social
régime to follow. Mary Clemmer Ames wrote thus of Mrs. Hayes at the
public inauguration:
“Meanwhile, on this man of whom everyone in the nation is this moment
thinking, a fair woman between two little children looked down. She
has a singularly gentle and winning face. It looks out from the bands
of smooth dark hair with that tender light in the eyes which we have
come to associate with a Madonna. I have never seen such a face reign
in the White House. I wonder what the world of vanity fair will do
with it! Will it frizz that hair? Powder that face? Drive those sweet,
fine lines away with pride? Bare those shoulders? Shorten those
sleeves? Hide John Wesley’s discipline out of sight as it poses and
minces before the First Lady of the Land? What will she do with it,
this woman of the house and home? The Lord in heaven knows. All that I
know is that Mr. and Mrs. Hayes are the finest looking type of man and
woman I have seen take up their abode in the White House.”
When Mrs. Hayes was preparing to come to Washington, she was beset,
as befalls every incumbent of the office, with many suggestions as to
the White House etiquette and the type of functions to be held there.
Possessed of decided independence of thought and action, she felt that
her family and official position in Ohio would enable her to decide as
to the form of her social régime. Although Mrs. Hayes had been reared
a strong temperance woman, wines had always been in use in her family,
though not served at their tables. During the war, when she went to
camp, she never failed to carry liquors for the sick.
She had always maintained that every woman should be absolute mistress
of her own home and dictate its policy. If she wished to serve wines,
she would certainly do so. On the other hand, she reserved the right to
decline to serve them, whether the home over which she was mistress was
in Ohio or the White House.
The zealots of temperance in search of a new sensation to spring to
advance their course seized upon this attitude of hers as an opening
for a definite commitment of a policy emanating from the White House as
a national example. Soon after Mrs. Hayes arrived at the White House,
the wife of a minister visited her and begged her earnestly to forbid
the use of liquor and wines in the mansion during her régime. Mrs.
Hayes was somewhat surprised at the request; she did not commit herself
as to what stand she would take, but replied:
“Madame, it is my husband, not myself, who is President. I think a
man who is capable of filling so important a position, as I believe
my husband to be, is quite competent to establish such rules as will
obtain in his house without calling on members of other households.
I would not offend you, and I would not offend Mr. Hayes, who knows
what is due to his position, his family and himself, without any
interference of others directly or through his wife.”
The President and Mrs. Hayes conferred over this matter and were
agreed that, to secure the greatest good to the greatest number, it
would be well for them to advocate and practise total abstinence.
Consequently, when the new mistress of the White House made her
plans for her first functions, the use of wines was tabooed. This
statement created a furore of criticism, ridicule, and protest among
the Cabinet and official and social leaders, many going so far as to
predict international complications, since the absence of liquors at
state functions would be regarded as an affront by the diplomats. Not
even cartoons or the sneering title “Lemonade Lucy” moved her: Mrs.
Hayes remained firm, and wine remained absent from her table--and no
complications ensued, though, from the Cabinet down, the President and
his wife were besought to change this dictum, “for the honour of the
country,” as many expressed it.
Among the letters of Rutherford B. Hayes, one dated Spiegel Grove,
Fremont Park, March 10, 1891, published for the Hayes Memorial Library,
regarding the absence of wines during his administration, says in part:
“As to the Presidency, this was the situation: We were opposed to the
use of wines and liquors in our household. We continued at Washington
the habits of our Ohio home. A bright and persistent correspondent,
who failed to get the office he wanted, attacked us savagely on all
occasions. He started many ill-natured stories showing that we were
too economical, and repeatedly charged that the total abstinence
rule at the White House was due to a desire to save expenses. We
did nothing that even _seemed_ to warrant this attack. We spent in
hospitality, charities, and generous living the whole amount. My
belief is that no others ever spent as much in the White House as we
did. Many old congressmen (Messrs. Stevens, Fernando Wood, and, I
think, S. S. Cox) said repeatedly that they had known and heard of
no one who entertained as much. Mrs. Hayes took pains always to have
young ladies as guests from all parts of the country, South as well as
North. Special entertainments were frequent. And the regular routine
of affairs was made exceptionally brilliant and expensive. Many new
dinners and entertainments were added to the ‘of course’ affairs. Mrs.
Hayes was busy with her whole-hearted energy in looking up the needy.
“When we left Washington a story was started that I had saved about
twenty thousand dollars during my term. This was shown by the
reduction of my indebtedness to that amount. This had an appearance of
truth, and was perhaps derived from one of the family. But on looking
up affairs at home it turned out that a large part of this reduction
of my debts was from collections on real estate sales made before I
left home. I left Washington with less than one thousand dollars.”
In January, 1878, Mrs. Hayes held her first reception of the season.
Thoroughly emancipated in her ideas as to what was suitable and proper
for her, she chose to abide by the style of hairdressing she had
always followed, and refused flatly to consider allowing her hair to
be arranged according to the style of the hour, in great structures of
frizzed false hair. She wore hers parted plainly and drawn down, looped
over her ears, and loosely coiled at the nape of the neck. In the
matter of her gowns she also had her own definite ideas. The décolleté
so extreme through the Lincoln and Grant régimes, the huge bustles and
lengthy trains, were not to her liking. She appeared at the New Year’s
reception in a princess gown of black silk of rich texture and quality,
cut with a graceful train, and elaborately trimmed with handsome jet
passementerie. Her concession to the mode was a V-neck, filled in
with delicate Spanish lace. A silver comb set off her black hair. Her
appearance brought forth much favourable comment, and many who came
prepared to censure and criticize remained to praise, since the effect
was regal, and she received with a grace and dignity that won all of
her critics.
She was assisted by Mrs. Evarts in elegant black velvet, Mrs. Sherman
in old gold satin with court train of black velvet, red roses arranged
about the corsage. Among the diplomatic guests, especially notable was
Madame Yoshida, wife of the Japanese Minister, since she had discarded
her native dress for American garments.
One of the President’s early appointments was that of Marshal of the
District of Columbia. Frederick Douglass, a well-indorsed applicant,
was chosen. Frederick Douglass, a Negro, an American journalist and
orator, had once been a slave. He was born in southern Maryland and ran
away from his master about 1838. He made his way North and established
himself at New Bedford, Mass. Possessed of much natural ability, he
began to lecture on slavery, later publishing a full account of his own
experiences. He visited England, lecturing extensively. When the war
opened, he advocated the use of coloured troops and aided in organizing
regiments of them.
After the war, he became editor of the _National Era_ at Washington.
His wife was a white woman.
As it was not possible for Frederick Douglass to fulfil the duties
of his office in the White House as his predecessors had done, the
President’s second son, Webb Hayes, served as confidential secretary.
In this capacity, the young man presented all callers to his father,
while Colonel T. L. Casey, of the Corps of Engineers, made the
introductions to Mrs. Hayes.
Among the notable functions, the first was the state dinner in honour
of His Imperial Highness Grand Duke Alexis Alexandrovitch, of Russia,
on April 19, 1877, at 7 o’clock, the only function at which wine was
served. This had been arranged by Secretary Evarts.
In the opening days of his administration, President Hayes gave a
brilliant state dinner, which was long discussed and over which there
was much speculation. Secretary Evarts had expressed his distress over
the lack of wines long and fervently. When the dessert of oranges was
served, there were expressive glances exchanged between guests. They
enjoyed the delicious concoction and were frankly not averse to more.
They were convinced that the chef had been liberal with Santa Croix rum
and were accordingly delighted to think the First Lady of the Land had
been hoodwinked. The President, “one of those demmed literary fellers”
as he was often called, appeared to be wholly ignorant of anything to
cause unusual satisfaction. He did not partake of the fruit. Rumour
claims that he enjoyed the situation thoroughly. No one suspected that
he was aware that his guests were of the opinion that the white ribbon
rule had been rudely jarred, if not broken. He kept his counsel. The
guests whispered the story around and the popularity of the orange
dessert grew. It was often served. None discovered until long afterward
that the joke was on the guests--the President and the chef had
conferred--a flavouring had been found that so completely duplicated
the taste of the famous rum as to require an expert to detect the
difference.
President Hayes was addicted to the scrapbook habit. This was his
method of keeping up with current information. One clerk was detailed
to go through daily papers, clip and classify all news and information.
The clippings were pasted in books under the subjects to which they
belonged and were immediately available to the President’s call,
whether his query related to cotton exports, international treaties, or
the country’s finances.
Young Webb Hayes found his time pretty well occupied with a diversity
of duties, as his mother clung to her old Ohio habit of filling
the house with young ladies who had to be squired and beauxed on
sight-seeing trips, and escorted constantly to social affairs. Often,
when some impromptu expedition was gotten up, he had as many as eight
girls to look after at one time. Asked recently how he managed this
part of his White House job, Colonel Hayes merely shook his head, gave
his Rooseveltian smile, and _looked_ so reminiscent that it seemed even
the illustrious example of Coolidge silence was in danger of being
forgotten, and perhaps a delightful story of some of the romance of a
twenty-year-old lad might be forthcoming--but it wasn’t.
Despite his dignity and responsibility, young Secretary Hayes could
and did unbend when not on duty. He has been charged with learning to
ride a bicycle in the East Room. Upon another occasion, when one of the
young lady guests had a caller who stayed over long, he betook himself
to the room above the Red Room, where the young people were chatting,
and frightened them nearly to death by dropping the largest dictionary
he could find on the floor just above their heads. Needless to add,
the caller soon departed, and the young secretary was able to see the
mansion closed for the night and get some much-needed rest.
Among the interesting festivities at the mansion was the celebration
of the silver wedding of President and Mrs. Hayes, December 31, 1877,
which was the first party of that kind ever held there. The halls
and state apartments of the entire first floor were decorated with
cut flowers, vines, and plants. Smilax was entwined about the great
chandeliers of the East Room, which, by the way, had been put in during
the previous administration at a cost of $1,800 each. They were made
in Germany, and each of them contains 5,060 pieces of cut glass. Flags
were also used wherever the touch of the national colours was desired.
The Cabinet and their families were the only official persons invited.
Close friends in Washington and old friends from Ohio identified with
the life of these two people, and a delegation of the Twenty-third Ohio
Volunteer Infantry, which President Hayes had commanded, comprised the
group of guests.
Promptly at nine o’clock, the Marine Band played Mendelssohn’s Wedding
March, and the President, with his wife on his arm, came down the
stairway, followed by members of their family and special guests. The
little procession moved into the East Room, in front of the central
window on the east side. Mrs. Hayes wore her wedding gown and slippers,
and she admitted having been obliged to let out the seams. The gown
was of white brocade, with the wide straight skirt in style at the
time, trimmed with tulle and white silk fringe. Long white gloves met
the short sleeves, and white slippers and the silver comb for her hair
completed the bridal costume.
Mrs. Mitchell, the daughter of the President’s sister, stood beside
Mrs. Hayes, as she had done when a little lass of eight at the
original wedding. Reverend Dr. L. D. McCabe, the pastor of many years’
association and spiritual guidance, again gave the blessing. And this
occasion, with the gathering of the lifetime friends, was made more
remarkable by the christening of Fanny and Scott Russell Hayes and the
six-weeks-old baby daughter of Mrs. Herron, the mother of Mrs. Taft,
who had attended the original wedding. Her baby was named Lucy Hayes
Herron.
No gifts were received. The President emphatically decreed against
that, but one came from his old regiment so expressive of the regard
of the men for their commander and his wife that it could not but be
accepted and appreciated. It was a silver plate in an ebony frame
inscribed: “To the Mother of the Regiment.”
Upon the plate was a sketch of the log hut which had been Colonel
Hayes’s headquarters in the valley of the Kanawha, surrounded by
tattered battle flags.
Soon the President led the way to the state dining room, where a
sumptuous table presented all of the delicacies of the day and the best
of the confectioner’s art.
The ringing in of the New Year disbanded the party.
Many gay parties were given for the eleventh White House bride, Miss
Emily Platt, niece of President Hayes, who married General Russell
Hastings in the Blue Room on the evening of July 19, 1878. This gay
little wedding was attended by the Cabinet and the many friends of
Miss Platt, who had assisted Mrs. Hayes in her social duties. Bishop
Jagger of Ohio, a Methodist minister, performed the ceremony beneath
a marriage bell composed of fifteen thousand buds and blossoms. The
Marine Band played the wedding march, and President Hayes gave the
bride away. A very elaborate supper was served to the party in the
private dining room.
Although Mrs. Hayes kept aloof from all political matters and attended
wholly to her end of the presidential partnership, she did confess to
one piece of lobbying for which posterity is indebted to her. Eliphalet
Andrews, the noted portrait painter of Ohio, came to Washington in
1877 to found the Corcoran School of Art under the patronage of W. W.
Corcoran. He made a charming life-size portrait of Martha Washington as
the first of a series of presidential portraits, which includes those
of Jefferson, Jackson, Taylor, Buchanan, Johnson, and Garfield. When
Mrs. Washington’s portrait was finished, Mrs. Hayes had it placed on
exhibition in the East Room. It was hung opposite the one of General
Washington. Mrs. Hayes felt that that portrait belonged right there,
so she concluded to make an effort to have it purchased. Accordingly,
following the next state dinner, she conducted Speaker Randall to view
the portrait. She dilated upon its merits and expressed her own wish
to have it bought for the mansion. The Speaker coincided and suggested
that she direct Senator Edmunds’s attention to the portrait, as he
was chairman of the committee on the purchases of portraits for the
government. Mrs. Hayes’s appeal brought the matter to a point where it
received official attention and was the needed impetus to bring about
the purchase of the portrait. It is the only one of the few portraits
of the various First Ladies of the Land belonging to the White House
that is displayed in the state apartments. The others, that of Mrs.
Hayes among them, are relegated to the basement corridor which opens
from the cloak rooms and which is used by all of the delegations
received by the wife of the President and by the guests at the various
state functions.
Life in the White House was very jolly and happy during this entire
administration. Mrs. Hayes’s love for young people was one of her
great charms. She was the mother of eight children, three of whom died
previous to or during the war. The eldest son, Birchard, was practising
law; the second one, Webb, performing countless valuable services for
his parents in the capacity of confidential secretary. Rutherford, Jr.,
was at school, and the two little ones livened the house with their
pranks.
Christmas was always the occasion of a great celebration, the family
returning to spend the holidays together when frolic and fun were the
order of the hour. While Mrs. Hayes radiated joy and love to her own,
she never overlooked the unfortunate, but made it a rule to dispense
charity to the limit of her ability. Among other philanthropies, she
distributed forty turkeys with the ingredients for complete dinners to
needy families. She taught her children to save a share of their pocket
money to buy gifts for less favoured children.
The first Thanksgiving in the White House, November 26, 1877, she
established the custom of inviting to dinner all members of the
clerical staff of the White House with their families. This custom
prevailed throughout her occupancy.
Lucy Webb Hayes was the first college woman to be mistress of the
President’s house. Her régime stands out alone, clear and distinct,
an epic of womanly courage and loyalty to principle. She had the
courage to do what no one else had ever done. She entered official
life at a time when the female lobby was at its height, when scandal
had the nation in its slimy coils, and when ideals and principles were
hibernating. She not only turned a deaf ear to friend and foe when
she set her hand to advance the cause of temperance, but she also
established anew the regard for Sabbath observance by the example of
her own household.
She had always been a strong churchwoman. Her family was originally
Presbyterian but left the Southern Presbyterian Church because of a
difference on the temperance question and a sectional one in slavery,
and became affiliated with the Methodists. While in Washington, they
were attendants of Foundry Methodist Episcopal Church, then located on
the corner of Fourteenth and G streets. Sunday was distinctly a family
day. The Sunday evening impromptu family concerts became so popular as
to develop into regular affairs. Mrs. Hayes possessed a fine strong
voice, and she loved to sing as much as the family enjoyed hearing
her. Vice President Wheeler also had a fine voice. Mrs. Wheeler was a
pianist of talent, and with the President joining them in his favourite
Scotch folk songs and ballads, they quickly developed a delightful
Sunday function that kept adding recruits, Chief Justice Waite, his
daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Harlan, and Miss Harlan being among those who
made the White House their objective on Sunday evenings for this
pleasure.
From her arrival, Mrs. Hayes won popularity for her charm. She has
been called the most beautiful of White House mistresses since Dolly
Madison’s day and kept that title until the appearance of the lovely
Mrs. Cleveland. Warm-hearted, vivacious, fun-loving, she enjoyed every
moment of life and loved doing things for other people. Moreover, she
was possessed of vigour of health and strength of vitality that added
much to the pleasure people experienced in meeting her. She had a
strong will and a wholesomeness combined with rare good sense, and left
the impress of her strong personality upon the annals of her country.
She loved the White House, so filled with historic associations. She
revelled in her explorations of attics, storerooms, and basement,
and soon after her installation had appraised the odds and ends of
furniture, ornaments, and china, and arranged many of the treasured
relics of bygone administrations so that they might be used and admired.
Mrs. Hayes enlarged the conservatory by the removal of the billiard
room. Thus she was able to have a more abundant collection of plants
and display of flowers. At the end of the long corridor, a brilliant
and fragrant mass of growing blooming roses greeted the eye and was
a source of delight to all visitors. Each morning she had baskets of
flowers brought to her, and personally arranged anywhere from a dozen
to fifty bouquets for various people, not only friends, but officials,
and hospitals, and institutions. She carried her love of flowers and
nature to the extent of purchasing a dinner service of a thousand
pieces, and upon it were reproduced the flora and fauna of America.
This work was done by Theodore R. Davis, an artist-naturalist who had
travelled extensively and familiarized himself with the vegetation of
our land. The effect of the bold designs of fish, fowl, and flowers
upon the tableware brought a variety of comment. Some ridiculed and
others approved, but all admitted the idea distinctive and original.
Mrs. Hayes did not emulate Mrs. Grant in her social activities. She
followed the old custom of declining invitations, but she managed to
be well represented by some of her family and a group of young girls.
She left Washington loved by the poor, with the unqualified admiration
and devotion of the church people and those advocating prohibition.
A movement was started by the temperance people to express the
appreciation of her stand against liquor by a gift to the city of a
fountain named for her. She did not favour this, for she had seen too
much of unsanitary drinking fountains to be at all impressed with the
idea, even though it was an unusually appropriate one; and when a
life-size portrait of herself was suggested, instead, she entered into
the plan most cheerfully. The celebrated artist, Daniel Huntington, of
New York, was commissioned to paint the portrait. As she was planning
to make a trip to New York to purchase her winter wardrobe, she offered
to get whatever the artist considered most suitable in colour and
material for the gown to be worn in the portrait. As she was what he
called a rose brunette, Mr. Huntington chose the colour and material
of the lovely maroon velvet gown which appears in the portrait that
now graces the White House. This painting was presented by the Woman’s
Christian Temperance Union and unveiled by a delegation at the close
of the Hayes régime in March, 1887. The address was given by Frances
Willard.
Mrs. Hayes did not live very long after her return to Ohio. She was
spared a long and painful illness, however, dying suddenly on June
25, 1889. She was seated on the porch engaged with some fancy work,
watching some of the young people of the family playing tennis. Her
needle gave her a bit of trouble, and she inclined her head to see
what was wrong. She was heard to give a little sigh, and before anyone
realized that she was ill, she was unconscious from a stroke of
apoplexy, and died a few hours later. She was buried on the knoll at
Spiegel Grove, Fremont, Ohio.
President Hayes had long been interested in the preservation of
historic places such as the early homes of the Presidents, their
birthplaces, graves, etc., and this led to the trip to Wakefield and
the placing of a marker there on the site of George Washington’s
birthplace. The Washington Monument project received through his
influence the needed impetus to secure the appropriation by Congress
for the resumption of the construction. To Colonel Casey the task was
given, and under his direction work again began. The Monument in its
unfinished condition had been an eyesore to the people of Washington
for nearly twenty-five years.
Rutherford Hayes won high regard for his unfailing dignity in his
official duties, made so difficult by the politicians of his own
party and by the Democrats who controlled the House. His choice of
a private secretary, W. K. Rogers, of Minnesota, a friend of long
standing, unloosed the first storm of criticism. His Cabinet selections
had been met with ridicule, the claim being that they were neither
Northern, Southern, Democratic, nor Republican. Throughout his term he
was continually taunted with the charge of fraud, although President
Grant, the electoral commission, and a vast host of powerful, staunch
Americans supported and endorsed him. President Hayes mapped out his
course and followed it. He would not be stampeded. His calm, deliberate
policies enabled him to carry out his theory regarding the necessity
of withdrawing Federal troops from the Southern States as the quickest
method to aid those states to get rid of carpet-bag government. To
the great consternation of the opposition and against the advice of
many of his own party, he withdrew the troops--a step calling for
courage. Immediately, the whites assumed control, and the worst of the
reconstruction evils was over.
Out of his resolve to rid the government of the scandals that had so
obscured the vision of the public for the previous eight years arose
so much contention that two factions formed. One called themselves
“Stalwarts”; their chief reason for existing was to express opposition
to the conciliatory policy which he had manifested toward the South, in
his great effort to make the reality of a reunited country manifest.
For this he was called a “Puritan” and those who followed him were
termed “Half-breeds.”
Very little constructive legislation could be developed against
the combined opposing elements which maintained their hostility
throughout his term. He vetoed the Bland-Allison Bill, which pledged
the government to the purchase of silver to the extent of $24,000,000
yearly to be turned into dollars. Congress passed the bill over his
veto. Specie payments were resumed, and a Chinese treaty negotiated
which exercised control over the immigration from that country.
President Hayes did not seek a renomination, but returned to his home
to indulge in various forms of philanthropy and to plan and have
constructed under his own direction a monument that should serve as
his memorial. With the death of Mrs. Hayes and her interment in the
spot he had chosen, this memorial became a hallowed and sacred project
to develop into a memorial park. He did not survive his wife long.
His death occurred quite suddenly, on January 17, 1893, shortly after
he had remarked that he had “rather die at Spiegel Grove than live
anywhere else.”
CHAPTER V
ADMINISTRATION OF JAMES ABRAM GARFIELD
_March 4, 1881, to September 19, 1881_
From a frontier log cabin in the wilderness to the White House was the
alpha and omega of James A. Garfield, whose brief régime lasted just
two hundred days.
The inauguration of James A. Garfield, twentieth President of the
United States, on March 4, 1881, was a great pageant, notwithstanding
the cold, dismal rain that followed the light snow of the night before.
By noon, the sun had come out bright and warm, and before the parade
was over, the streets were dry.
Escorted by twelve companies of regular artillery, six companies
of marines, and a like number of infantry, President Hayes and
President-elect Garfield rode together with the members of the Senate
Committee in a four-horse carriage, with the Columbia Commandery of
Knights Templar, of which General Garfield was a member, as a guard of
honour. An armed guard had been posted about the Capitol, and no one
without the proper credentials was admitted.
Mrs. Hayes escorted Mrs. Garfield and General Garfield’s aged mother, a
venerable white-haired lady, to the gallery seats reserved for them.
Following the installation of Mr. Arthur, the new Vice President, and
the new senators, the Senate was adjourned to witness the ceremony on
the East Portico. At the East Portico, the chair once used by General
Washington had again been placed in the centre of the raised stage.
General Garfield was shown to this as the seat of honour. Chief Justice
Waite administered the oath.
During the inaugural address, “Mother Garfield’s” undisguised pride and
delight in her son awakened the sympathetic appreciation of all who saw
her; she was the first mother ever to have the privilege of witnessing
her son sworn in as President of the United States.
General Garfield took the oath, given him by Chief Justice Waite, after
which, amidst the applause of the people, he kissed his mother and his
wife and was escorted to his carriage to return to the White House.
Mrs. Hayes had exercised the same courteous provisions for her
successor as had been extended to her by Mrs. Grant, and before the new
President reviewed the parade, the two families had lunch together.
Ex-President and Mrs. Hayes then departed for the home of Senator
Sherman, where they visited for a few days.
Since the Grand Review of 1865, Washington had not witnessed so
splendid a parade, one of such length and perfect formation as this at
the inauguration of James Garfield. It reflected great credit upon the
skill of General Sherman, who had arranged it. The ball that night,
too, was a fine affair, held in the new National Museum, fitted up
for the occasion. The new President and Mrs. Garfield arrived about
nine o’clock and were received by the Ball Committee, Judge Bancroft
escorting the President. Mrs. Garfield was gowned tastefully in light
lavender satin elaborately trimmed with point lace. A simple cluster
of purple pansies was worn at her neck. Her costume was remarked for
its simplicity and the absence of jewellery. Mrs. Hayes, who was with
her, was most charmingly gowned in a cream-coloured satin, trimmed with
ermine. The supper was elaborate. The menu for this event included
1,500 pounds of turkey, 100 gallons of oysters, 3,000 biscuits and
rolls, 50 hams, 200 gallons of chicken salad, 50 gallons of jelly, 250
gallons of coffee, 15,000 cakes, 250 gallons of ice cream, and 300
pounds of butter.
Garfield’s régime was so short that naturally interest in him must
centre more in what he was than in what he accomplished as President.
Born in Ohio on November 19, 1831, of pioneer parents, he experienced
through childhood and youth the same kind of struggle and hardship as
fell to the lot of many of our great men. Like many of them, too, he
was self-made.
When he was but eighteen months old, his mother was left, through the
death of his father, with four small children to bring up and a farm
to manage. She had literally to fill a man’s place. Mrs. Garfield
struggled and toiled heroically, and soon Jimmy, the baby, had the
chance to go to school in the summer; the winter term was not possible,
since he had no shoes or suitable clothing. Finally, Thomas, the
eldest, a child of twelve, the man of the family, secured a job with
a farmer to work fourteen hours a day for six dollars a month. Thomas
had one idea--that was that young Jimmy should be given a chance at
schooling, and when he came home with his first pay, his one request
was that his mother purchase shoes for Jimmy, so that the little
brother could attend the school in the little town.
As the lad grew into his teens, the boundaries of the farm grew too
restricted. Tales of travel and adventure had roused a responsive
thrill in his heart. At seventeen, therefore, although his mother
wanted him to continue his education and become a teacher, he set out
to make his fortune, after completing the strenuous job of chopping one
hundred cords of wood for twenty-five dollars for the ready cash. He
tied his belongings in a small bundle, slung them over his shoulder on
a stick, and started his tramp to find the end of the rainbow of his
ambition. By the time he reached Cleveland, tramping had lost some of
its glamour, especially as water and boats were at hand. His appeal for
a place on a lake steamer met with a curt and uncompromising refusal,
in which his inexperience was brought home to him.
Employment of some sort being a necessity, he spent several days
industriously seeking a job, and finally found one with a canal-boat
captain. For several months, for twelve dollars a month and board he
trudged the towpath along the canal his father had helped to build.
Young Garfield was ill with chills and fever for six months, and when
convalescent, realizing that he really desired schooling more than
anything else, to his mother’s delight, he entered the high school
at Chester, which held other attractions than the academic routine.
His childhood playmate, Lucretia Rudolph, daughter of Zeb Rudolph, of
Garretsville, one of the founders of Hiram College, was also a pupil.
By the time these two completed the high-school course, he had acquired
the distinction of height, six feet two inches, which was so much
admired when he entered public life. By this time, also, Lucretia had
assumed a definite place in his scheme of life. Aided and abetted by
his mother, she overcame his rather natural feeling that he could not
afford to give more time to the college course, to which he looked
so longingly. Feminine argument also had the support and backing of
the splendid loyal older brother, and Jimmy and Lucretia entered the
Western Reserve Electic Institute at Hiram, Ohio, later the Hiram
College. In vacations, he taught a district school for twelve dollars
a month and board. Graduation left a desire for further educational
experience, and Williams College, Massachusetts, was the objective.
During vacations, he taught school in Pownal, Vt., the school of which
Chester Alan Arthur had been principal the term previous. It was
there Garfield became a convert to the Campbellites, being baptized
in a tributary of the Chagrin River. His zeal for his new religious
affiliation sent him lecturing, teaching, and preaching wherever and
whenever opportunity offered.
With the completion of the course at Williams College, from which he
was graduated in 1856, where his son, Dr. Harry A. Garfield, is now
dean, he returned to take the Chair of Ancient Languages at Hiram
College.
His marriage to Lucretia Rudolph, his boyhood sweetheart, occurred in
1858, and within a year he was made President of the College, which
position he held until he entered the Civil War in 1861. Their lives
ran along in great happiness, owing to their congenial tastes. They
studied together and kept step in all matters of public and educational
interests. He preached, taught, and studied law, being admitted to the
bar in Cuyahoga County in 1860.
Seven children were born to them.
Upon offering his services at the opening of the Civil War, James
Garfield was commissioned Colonel of the Forty-second Ohio Volunteers.
For gallantry, he was made Brigadier General, the youngest man to
receive that rank. He served with distinction at Shiloh and at Corinth,
and in Alabama became Chief of Staff of the Army of the Cumberland.
At Chickamauga, he was made a Major General of volunteers, owing to
meritorious action. This honour had just been conferred when he learned
of the death of his infant daughter.
He resigned to enter Congress at the age of thirty-two, after a
conference with General Rosecrans, and served continuously until 1880.
When Mr. Blaine went to the Senate in 1876, Garfield became the
recognized leader of the Republican element in the House. In January,
1880, he himself was elected to the Senate.
In June of that year, the Republicans held their national convention,
when Grant’s name was suggested again. With his European popularity,
many admirers believed he would be sent to the White House on the crest
of another boom.
Other friends protested against his name being put up again. They
predicted defeat. At no time would he announce himself as sufficiently
receptive to the idea of a third term to authorize a statement. When
asked whether he would accept a nomination, he replied: “I will neither
accept nor decline an imaginary thing.” Later, however, he wrote:
“I owe so much to the Union men of the country that if they think
my chances are better for election than those of other probable
candidates, I cannot decline if the nomination is tendered without
seeking on my part.”
When the convention met, General Grant’s name was brought forward by
Roscoe Conkling. His chief opponent was Mr. Blaine. Roscoe Conkling was
a clever politician, with a gift of sarcasm which he was continually
abusing. He seldom tried to conciliate his opponent, and he deeply
hated Mr. Blaine. At the convention, Conkling’s words and manner were
arrogant and insolent to a degree. Taunts and insults came to his lips
so readily that he not merely deepened the hostility of the Blaine
men, but estranged the friends of other candidates, whom otherwise
he might, perhaps, have won over. But he was sure of at least three
hundred and six Grant delegates, and he seemed to feel that he could
bully the convention into giving him the seventy additional votes
needed for a clear majority. Nothing like Conkling’s conduct had ever
been seen at any national convention. He did not even confine himself
to verbal taunts, but once, at least, he rushed at an opposing delegate
who was speaking, and, seizing him by the shoulders, thrust him down
into his seat in spite of the jeers and hisses which came from every
quarter of the hall. A newspaper of the day gives the following account:
“Roscoe Conkling, in making the nominating speech for Grant, ranked
for real oratory with Robert Ingersoll, who nominated Blaine in 1876.
Conkling’s speech was spectacular, but, carried away by his strong
partisanship for Grant and intense hatred and bitterness toward
Blaine, he so lashed the Blaine followers as to make it impossible
ever to win a scattering vote for Grant, and his speech left that
chieftain weaker than before it was uttered.
“However, Grant’s memorable ‘306’ stood with him to the ultimate
finish. During thirty-six ballots he started with 304, never dropped
below 302, and never got more than 313, being defeated by the
avalanche to Garfield, with 306 delegates true to the bitter end.
“Garfield went to the convention as head of the Ohio delegation to
urge Senator John Sherman as candidate. Garfield was selected as a
compromise candidate when it became evident that Grant and Blaine were
in a deadlock. Wisconsin started the landslide. Grant’s following
for two months determinedly worked for the defeat of Garfield, until
Conkling had a conference with Grant, and then they swung around with
zealous support that barely carried Garfield into the White House.”
Chester Alan Arthur, a “Stalwart,” was elected as the running mate
of Garfield, a “Half-breed,” to appease the faction he represented.
Mr. Arthur was collector of the Port of New York at the time of his
election, this appointment having been conferred by President Grant.
President Garfield early made known his choice of James G. Blaine as
his Secretary of State. He listened to all suggestions for the other
Cabinet posts, but kept his own counsel concerning his appointments.
He understood that, but for the support given him by General Grant
and Conkling, he might have met defeat. Yet he chose to ignore hints,
requests, appeals, and demands of friends and party leaders, and chose
his Cabinet for some definite reasons which would undoubtedly have been
disclosed had his term not ended so tragically.
William Windom of Minnesota was chosen for Secretary of the Treasury;
Robert Lincoln, of Illinois, Secretary of War; William H. Hunt, of
Louisiana, Secretary of the Navy; Wayne McVeagh, of Pennsylvania,
Attorney General; Samuel J. Kirkwood, of Iowa, Secretary of the
Interior; and Thomas L. James, of New York, Postmaster General.
While some of the appointments he made created resentment from the
“Stalwarts,” particularly that of Blaine, antagonism blazed into open
rebellion when he selected for the important New York office, that
of Collector of the Port of New York, W. H. Robertson, who proved to
be a political enemy of Conkling and also of Thomas C. Platt, junior
senator. Both were so indignant and resentful that, when the man’s
nomination was followed by confirmation, and all the suggestions for
other New York offices were ignored by President Garfield, the two
Senators promptly resigned, with the idea that their reëlection by the
New York Legislature would speedily follow as a measure of approval.
The plan, however, did not work out as scheduled.
Although President Garfield was no stranger to Washington, his first
public appearance created widespread interest. He presided at the
unveiling of the statue of Admiral Farragut, the work of the little
sculptor, Vinnie Ream Hoxie, whose statue of Lincoln in the Capitol had
created such a sensation, being the work of a woman--a mere girl. For
the Farragut statue, Congress paid $25,000.
Vinnie Ream deserves a place in the American Hall of Fame since she
was one of the most talented women of her period. Her unusual life and
marked achievements in spite of limited opportunities should be an
inspiration to ambitious youth.
She was born in Wisconsin, near the site of Madison, in September,
1847, of pioneer parents. From Indian children playmates she learned
the Indian nature so beautifully expressed in her later model of
Sequoya, the last work of her hand, which, left unfinished, now stands
in Statuary Hall at the Capitol, having been completed by Julian Zolnay.
Her childhood in an isolated Kansas settlement was barren of
educational facilities save when a travelling teacher appeared to
establish classes for a few weeks while resting and preparing to
continue his travels. Her introduction to good poetry and music came
through such agencies. A guitar peddler with instruments, instruction
books, and the good will to teach all purchasers to play found a
willing pupil in the eleven-year-old Vinnie, whose father bought his
first instrument. Guitar sales flourished. The supply was exhausted,
but the little girl was the only one who mastered the teacher’s method
and was able to pick out tunes from the little book. This was the
beginning of a musical career in which, as composer and interpreter,
she was considered a genius in the year she was in college.
[Illustration: _Photos. by Brady_
MRS. JAMES A. GARFIELD]
The vicissitudes of fortune brought the Ream family to Washington
at the opening of the Civil War, and the little girl at the age of
thirteen had to become the mainstay for a time, filling a copyist’s
position in the Post Office at fifty dollars a month.
Her first visit to the studio of Clark Mills, the sculptor engaged to
make a bust of her for the Christian College of Missouri, where she had
been for a year a prize pupil, changed the objective of her life from
music to art. As she watched the artist reproducing her own features
in clay, the conviction burst upon her that she too could command her
fingers in such expression, and she exclaimed, “Oh, I know I could do
that!”
Amused at her girlish presumption, the artist handed her a bit of clay,
to try. In a few minutes, he was amazed to see a striking likeness
of himself taking form under her small fingers. Instantly, he and
those with him in the studio realized that this undersized girl of
thirteen was a genius of no mean order. Mills accordingly offered her
instruction, sending her home with some clay and a little statuette to
copy. The duplicate made in a few hours convinced her family that the
little girl had discovered her real life work.
As her work progressed and her skill developed, the Postmaster General
permitted her to complete her daily quota of work in the mornings so
that she might have the necessary afternoon light for her art.
A bust of President Lincoln modelled from memory brought her an
interview with him, and her story of her struggle to help her family
won his consent for her to come to the White House for sittings. For
five months this girl, now seventeen, made her daily trip to the
President’s office to make her sketches. Her last sitting was on the
day preceding his assassination. From her drawings, she made a bust of
such remarkable likeness that she was induced to enter the competition
for the statue of Lincoln for the Capitol for which Congress
appropriated $15,000, and won.
The contract was hers. She had won above the nation’s leading
sculptors. With her advance payment she established herself and her
parents in a studio in Rome to study and supervise the cutting of
the marble for the statue. Three years later, she returned to begin
the work in an empty committee room assigned to her use, under the
inspiration and criticism of Abraham Lincoln’s associates.
The completion and dedication brought her more honours and orders, and
the contract for the statue of Farragut also came to her as the winner
of the competition.
Although the Garfield administration was so brief, it was remembered
for the happy home life and domesticity a large and lively family of
youngsters gave to it, and also for the cultural qualities of the
President and his wife. Mrs. Garfield had devoted much of her time and
energies to the education and care of her four boys and her girl. Her
natural inclination was to prefer the home circle to many of the social
affairs.
“Grandma Garfield,” the President’s mother, made her home with them.
She was the treasured guest of the family and was given every deference
and courtesy that affection could suggest. She sat on the right of
her son and always was served first. His regard for her added to the
picture of happy home life that prevailed.
The formal state social functions were not scheduled until the
following winter season, but immediately after the inauguration Mrs.
Garfield gave four splendid receptions, which were largely attended.
Her husband called her “Crete,” a nickname from their schooldays, which
was an abbreviation of her rather formal name, Lucretia.
The President found the executive treadmill more absorbing and more
engrossing than any other task to which his hand had been set, and he
quickly found a need for relaxation that was not wholly met by his
literary tastes.
Immediately after settling his family, he had the billiard room
refitted and the table restored. Here, with his cigar and a little
coterie of close friends, he found much enjoyment. Frequent horseback
riding gave him the needed exercise.
President Garfield had so closely identified himself with church
and masonic organizations that people of the District of Columbia
regarded him as almost a Washingtonian. He, his wife, and his mother
were regular attendants at the little frame church of the Disciples
of Christ, better known as the Vermont Avenue Christian Church. Here
he frequently filled the pulpit, although he had never been ordained
to the ministry. After his death, when his assassin was on trial,
testimony was produced that indicated that Guiteau had followed the
President to church, as he had been seen looking in the windows. The
attendance of the President of the United States is always a great boon
to the church he selects. The present beautiful church is built on the
site occupied by the little frame building in which Garfield was so
interested, and is regarded as a memorial to him.
As a member of the Masonic fraternity, Garfield had greatly endeared
himself to the craft. At the time of his death he was a member of
Columbia commandery, Knights Templar, in which he was knighted in 1865.
He was undoubtedly the most active Mason locally that has ever filled
the presidential chair.
Though Garfield had chosen his Cabinet himself, without advice,
apparently he had not considered all of the contending influences
represented therein, since four months later, at the time he was
stricken by Guiteau’s bullet, it was on the verge of dissolution.
The President was noticeably buoyant in spirit on the morning of July
2, 1881, in bidding adieu to his office staff as he departed for the
railroad station, for he had planned a little trip that was to take him
to Williams College, his Alma Mater, and then to join his wife at Long
Branch for a longer trip with her and the older children.
Mrs. Garfield had come into the White House with a slight ailment that
clung to her through her anxiety over her husband’s party difficulties,
and as spring opened, this progressed and was increased through an
attack of malaria, the scourge of the White House families for many
years. After much medical consultation, she was sent to Long Branch
for the benefit of the sea air. This had proved beneficial and the
President had anticipated much pleasure from their projected trip.
President Garfield and Secretary Blaine were at the Pennsylvania
railroad depot, about to depart. They were passing through the ladies’
waiting room when two pistol shots rang out. Mr. Blaine immediately
turned and saw the President lurch forward and fall. A moment
afterward, the assassin, Charles J. Guiteau, was discovered and was
rescued with difficulty from the infuriated mob. A pistol of very heavy
calibre was wrenched out of his hand, and it became clear that a large
ball had entered the President’s body.
When in answer to eager questions, the physicians informed Garfield
that he had “one chance in a hundred” of living, he said calmly and
bravely: “Then, Doctor, we will take that chance.”
An ambulance was hastily called. The White House was notified. Harry,
his eldest son, rushed to the station and very gently the wounded man
was placed on a mattress and carefully lifted into the ambulance, his
son beside him. The President whispered: “Rockwell, I want you to
send a message to Crete. Tell her I am seriously hurt, how seriously
I cannot yet say. I am myself, and hope she will come to me soon. I
send my love to her.” Preceded by three mounted policemen and followed
by others to keep the crowd back, the wounded President was borne to
the White House. Such wild confusion as ensued can better be imagined
than described. Like wildfire the news spread over the city, and soon
the wires were flashing their terrible story to every city and town.
Once again the nation was plunged into horror and grief over the fate
that had befallen its head. Then followed days and weeks of prayerful
anxiety among the watchers at the bedside and the people of the nation.
General Corbin, assistant adjutant general, had immediately provided
a special train for Mrs. Garfield and Mollie. They returned to the
White House as fast as the train could bring them, living through such
agony and apprehension as can be appreciated only by those who have
been confronted with a similar experience. To her great relief, Mrs.
Garfield found her husband alive and able to talk with her, though
suffering intensely.
Hopes ran high for his recovery because of his splendid health and
strength, but soon it was apparent to the most optimistic that he would
not recover. Physicians conferred and disagreed over the case and its
diagnosis and treatment. Great authorities were consulted, but none
could make a suggestion that brought relief, and the suffering man
slipped farther down into the valley of the shadow. Into the minds of
all watchers soon came the conviction that life was just a matter of
days.
He expressed a desire to be taken where he could see the ocean, and
elaborate preparations were made to insure a journey to Elberon, N.
J., as comfortable for the sufferer as possible. Accordingly, on
September 6th, a mattress was placed on an express wagon, and the trip
to the station was made between daybreak and sunrise. In order to
avoid driving over the cobblestones, the railroad put a little stretch
of track from the station down to Pennsylvania Avenue and ran a car
throughout its length, so that the invalid might be lifted directly
from his mattress in the express wagon into the car. But even the sight
of the sea did not benefit him, and while every comfort was provided
for him at the cottage of O. G. Francklyn, he steadily failed. He died
on September 19, 1881.
While President Garfield thus lingered between life and death, an
important question arose as to the constitutional provision relating to
the “disability” of the President. On the part of the Vice President,
General Arthur, there was no move toward assuming the responsibilities
of the executive office. To the Vice President, the situation was
exceedingly trying, but he so conducted himself as to win universal
respect. His whole bearing, from the day of the crisis to the close of
the scene, was such as to indicate the profoundest sorrow and anxiety.
But, in other quarters, the President’s “disability” was eagerly
discussed. The question arose: Was President Garfield disabled in the
sense contemplated by the framers of the Constitution? Does that kind
of prostration of the bodily powers in which there is still a prospect
of recovery, which leaves the will free to act and the mental powers
unimpaired, really involve disability? While these questions were
much discussed, it was the universal public judgment that President
Garfield was not in fact “disabled” in the sense of the Constitution.
He continued to be the Chief Executive of the nation in fact as well
as in name; his Cabinet met from time to time; and not until the fatal
turn of affairs on September 19th, when the President breathed his last
at Elberon, was there an actual change in the administration.
A sad little group returned to Washington with the body of James
Abram Garfield. This consisted of Chester A. Arthur, who had become
President; General Grant, to whom the dead man owed deep obligations
for his valiant support in the campaign; also a delegation of the
Freemasons, and many important people. A hearse drawn by six white
horses conveyed the casket to the Capitol, where it lay in state
beneath the great dome, and where for two days a procession of
thousands of citizens filed past to take a last look upon the face of
another martyred President, whom they had come to love and admire.
After the family had taken their farewell, the funeral ceremonies
began. The military, with their flags shrouded, their arms reversed,
and their bands pouring forth a dirge, escorted the body to the same
station where the shooting had occurred, to be conveyed to Cleveland
for interment. The funeral party arrived at Cleveland on September
24th, and on the 26th the body of James A. Garfield was placed in
its final resting place, while the entire nation attended in spirit
and sympathy. During the funeral services, the sympathy of the world
was with the family. Bells tolled in all big cities, mourning was
displayed, and appropriate services were held throughout the country.
Party differences were forgotten or laid aside and criticism stilled in
the presence of death.
Secretary Blaine loved Garfield, and his oration at the funeral was an
evidence of this fact.
Guiteau, the assassin, had a sensational trial in the old City Hall.
This attracted a great deal of attention, particularly on the part of
the morbid curiosity-seekers who assembled daily to see the prisoner
go to and from the jail to the City Hall. He paid for his act with
his life. Although of good family, educated and clever, he had always
been queer--a religious fanatic, who took nothing in halfway fashion.
He was an extremist upon all things that interested him at all, and
after years of travel abroad, imbibing all sorts of radical ideas, he
came back with tendencies that found expression in opposition to all
regularity of action. He had followed President Garfield about, he
said, for weeks. Because of his political activity and his mad act, it
was alleged that the shooting was due to factional resentment over the
total eclipse of Conkling and Platt.
Guiteau’s sister and her husband, the latter reluctantly, at his wife’s
request, serving as the prisoner’s counsel, won the pity and respect of
everyone by their own demeanour.
Mrs. Garfield was just at her best when she came to the White House.
Just beginning her forties, she had a background of culture and
breeding from ancestry and education that made her a welcome addition
to the best circles, brief though her régime proved to be.
Although she was well known in Washington society during her husband’s
long service in Congress, when it became known that she was to be the
successor of Mrs. Hayes, public attention was centred upon her and
created a great demand for information about the incoming mistress of
the White House.
People who claimed intimacy with this family say that she was fully as
conversant with politics as her husband, and that he found in his wife
intelligent and understanding companionship; that it was she who aided
him in working out his political problems, and that is why he consulted
none of his party associates.
The General had this to say of Mrs. Garfield:
“I have been wonderfully blessed in the discretion of my wife. She
is one of the coolest and best-balanced women I ever saw. She is
unstampedable. There has not been one solitary instance of my public
career where I suffered in the smallest degree for any remark she ever
made. It would have been perfectly natural for a woman often to say
something that could be misinterpreted; but without any design, and
with the intelligence and coolness of her character, she has never
made the slightest mistake that I ever heard of. With the competition
that has been against me, many times such discretion has been a real
blessing.”
Mrs. Garfield survived her husband many years, living to see among
other memorials that bear his name a huge hospital in the Capitol City,
which must have held for her a peculiar appeal.
CHAPTER VI
ADMINISTRATION OF CHESTER ALAN ARTHUR
_September 20, 1881, to March 4, 1885_
Vice President Chester A. Arthur was not in Washington at the time of
the shooting of President Garfield. He had been to Albany, and was
horror stricken upon landing in New York to be greeted at the dock with
the news. He left immediately for Washington, going directly to the
Ben Butler house south of the Capitol, occupied at the time by Senator
Jones, of Nevada, where he remained until the injured President was
taken to Elberon, N. J.
Although the White House patient was conscious a large part of the
time, his condition grew more critical, and his sufferings were
increased by the midsummer heat, and on July 4th his death was
predicted hourly. James G. Blaine, Secretary of State, called upon the
Vice President to acquaint him with the fact that the President’s death
was imminent and to prepare him to assume control. Mr. Blaine said:
“The President is dying! You must prepare to assume the
responsibilities which the Constitution places upon you in such an
event.”
Vice President Arthur was greatly distressed over the situation. He
believed the prediction and stated that, when the Cabinet would call
upon him, he would be ready to take the oath of office. The pall of
approaching death and the depression of the great calamity had the
entire nation bowed in sorrow and anxiety.
While Mr. Arthur thus waited with his friends in great suspense,
expecting every moment the worst, they were notified by an orderly
sent by Secretary Blaine to the effect that the change in the weather,
bringing relief from the exhausting heat, had brought a decided
improvement in the President’s condition, and immediate death was
not anticipated. Mr. Arthur was fervent in his expressions of relief
and joy. Already papers were carrying stories connecting the names
of Arthur and Conkling with Guiteau’s crime. This was a severe shock
to Mr. Arthur’s sensibilities, and caused him such profound distress
over the injustice and cruelty of such a slander that he never quite
recovered from it. Throughout his administration, this barbed shaft was
often flung at him and never failed to wound him. When his attention
was first called to the statements, he exclaimed:
“No one deplores the calamity more than Senator Conkling and myself.
These reports are so base and unfounded I cannot believe that they
will be credited. They do not affect Senator Conkling and myself
as much as they do the entire country. They are a slur upon our
institutions, an attack upon the integrity of Republican government!
Good God! If such a thing were possible, then liberty is impossible!
Such a calamity as this should be treated as national, not only
by every citizen, but by the entire press of the country. Party
and faction should be forgotten in the general grief. All personal
considerations and political views must be merged in the national
sorrow. I am an American among millions of Americans grieving for
their wounded chief!”
When it became evident that none of the medical experts in charge of
the White House patient were making any progress toward his recovery
and the trip to Elberon, N. J., was planned to comply with the
President’s desire to be near the ocean, and also as a forlorn hope
that a change of air might again bring about an improvement, Mr. Arthur
returned to his home in New York City, 123 Lexington Avenue, where,
two weeks later, on the night of September 19, 1881, he received the
official notice of the death of his chief.
Although he had been daily informed of the President’s condition and
had known for some days that the Chief Executive could not recover, yet
the communication of the five members of the Cabinet was a shock. It
read:
ANNOUNCEMENT TO THE VICE PRESIDENT
Long Branch, N. J., September 19, 1881.
HON. CHESTER A. ARTHUR,
No. 123 Lexington Avenue, New York.
It becomes our painful duty to inform you of the death of President
Garfield and to advise you to take the oath of office as President of
the United States without delay. If it concurs with your judgment,
we will be very glad if you will come here on the earliest train
to-morrow morning.
WILLIAM WINDOM,
_Secretary of the Treasury_.
WILLIAM H. HUNT,
_Secretary of the Navy_.
THOMAS L. JAMES,
_Postmaster General_.
WAYNE MAC VEAGH,
_Attorney General_.
S. J. KIRKWOOD,
_Secretary of the Interior_.
(The Secretaries of State and War were absent from Long Branch.)
Preparations were made at once to follow the instructions, and Justices
J. R. Brady and Charles Donoghue, of the Supreme Court of New York,
were summoned, as were Elihu Root, ex-Commissioner French, Samuel G.
Rollins, and they, with Alan D. Arthur, the son of the Vice President,
comprised the group that witnessed the taking of the oath of office,
administered by Justice J. R. Brady, at 2 A. M. on September 20, 1881.
The news was flashed to Washington and word sent to Long Branch.
By nine o’clock, Secretary of State Blaine, Secretary of War Robert
Lincoln, and Postmaster General James called upon the new President,
and journeyed with him later in the day to Elberon.
On September 21st, President Arthur accompanied the funeral train to
Washington. He again went to the home of Senator John P. Jones, of
Nevada, and on Thursday, September 22d, repeated the oath of office
given by Chief Justice Waite. Two former presidents, Grant and Hayes,
were present at this ceremony, which occurred in the Vice President’s
room in the Senate wing at the Capitol. The Bible was handed him by
the clerk of the Supreme Court. President Arthur at once issued his
inaugural address and a proclamation on the death of President Garfield.
Arthur had been an active Grant adherent in 1880, but when Garfield
was nominated, he was chosen for second place, not only because he
happened to be Garfield’s choice, but because there was hope of
appeasing the strong “Stalwart” faction of the Republican party.
However, this plan did not heal the breach. Instead, the bitter
contest in the Senate, over which Vice President Arthur had presided,
led to such dissatisfaction, despite the Vice President’s efforts at
harmony, that the Garfield Cabinet was on the point of dissolution
when the tragedy turned the tide of criticism of the President and
his policies into sympathy, and by the time Chester Arthur assumed the
title rôle, prosperity was full upon the land and political animosities
were dormant, apparently forgotten. He quickly proved himself able
to cope with the situation, and directed affairs in a dignified and
statesmanlike manner.
Chester Alan Arthur was of a different type from any of his
predecessors. He has been called the most elegant, polished, and
courtly gentleman that ever filled the presidential office. He was a
native of Vermont, having been born at Fairfield, Franklin County,
on October 5, 1830, and was the oldest child in a family of two sons
and five daughters. Doubtless, much of his grace of manner was an
inheritance from his father, William Arthur, born in Ballymena, County
of Antrim, Ireland, who was a Baptist minister and also an author.
Chester Arthur’s boyhood was not unusual. His early education was
conducted at home under the supervision of his father, who supplied
most of the tutoring. He went to Union College, from which he was
graduated in 1848, and was an active member of the Psi Upsilon Society.
While in college, he added to his slender means by teaching a country
school. In 1852, he was admitted to the bar, and shortly after entered
into a partnership, in New York, with a friend, Henry D. Gardner. This
connection lasted until the close of the Civil War, when Mr. Arthur
continued the business of the firm alone.
As soon as he had established himself in a lucrative business, his
romance with Miss Ellen Lewis Herndon, of Virginia, culminated with
their marriage on October 29, 1859. Miss Herndon was the daughter of a
distinguished Virginia naval officer, Captain William Lewis Herndon,
who was lost at sea after winning fame in the exploration of the
Amazon. She had a lovely voice, charming Southern manner, splendid
ancestry, and a girlish beauty that made her the ideal of Mr. Arthur’s
dreams; while he, with his distinguished bearing, six feet two and a
half inches of height, handsome features, and courtly manners, was the
type of lover to fill the measure of any girl’s ideal.
After their marriage and romantic honeymoon, they installed themselves
in a home on Lexington Avenue where the charm of her voice and
the grace of her manner with his genius as a host and prince of
hospitality drew about them a delightful coterie of interesting people,
particularly those distinguished in arts, music, letters, and social
life in New York City.
During the Civil War, Mr. Arthur served on the staff of Governor E.
D. Morgan, of New York City, as engineer in chief. He was later made
Inspector General, and in January, 1862, was promoted to the position
of Quartermaster General. His task in equipping thousands of volunteers
was arduous and difficult, and brought him much praise for the
businesslike efficiency with which it was conducted. His war account,
notwithstanding its length, owing to the great number of men equipped,
was the first audited, and that without the reduction of one dollar,
while those of other states were cut in varying amounts ranging from
one million to ten million dollars.
He made it a rule to accept neither gifts nor favours, though many
handsome presents were sent him, and he was poorer at the close of
this service than before the term began. He was also inspector of New
York troops in the field on the staff of Major General Hunt, of the
Army of the Potomac. After the war, he resumed his law practice with
great success, gaining a national reputation through the important
legal cases he handled, and was for a time counsel to the Board of Tax
Commissioners, who paid him a salary of $10,000 a year.
He received the appointment of Collector of the Port of New York in
1871 from President Grant, and his reappointment in 1875 was confirmed
by the Senate.
Hayes selected for Secretary of Treasury John Sherman, “who deemed it
important that the custom-house appointments should be in the hands
of one more friendly to the Hayes administration than Mr. Arthur.”
Theodore Roosevelt was appointed collector, but the United States
Senate refused to confirm the appointment, and Arthur and Cornell held
their respective offices until adjournment of Congress, July 11, 1878,
when they were suspended. Arthur had previously declined to resign, as
requested by Secretary Sherman, notwithstanding the fact that he was
promised a foreign mission.
His friends prepared and circulated a petition for his reinstatement
which carried the signature of every judge of every court of New York
City, of all important members of the bar, and of three fourths of the
merchant importers. When Mr. Arthur learned of this, he refused to
permit it to be presented.
The political affiliations of her husband were not especially pleasing
to Mrs. Arthur. She disliked having him mixed up with them, preferring
that he devote himself exclusively to his legal profession. His
admirers have claimed that he was born with a flair for politics, and
from the time he reached his majority he was a politician entering into
the activities of his chosen party with zest and enthusiasm.
[Illustration: _Photo by G. V. Buck, Washington, D. C._
MRS. JOHN McELROY
Sister of President Arthur]
The great joy that descended upon the Arthur household with the birth
of their first child, which they named for the gallant Captain Herndon,
was turned to sorrow, as the babe died in infancy. Several years
later, however, two other children came to them, Alan and little Ellen,
to banish the grief and fill the household with life and childish
voices.
As time progressed, Mrs. Arthur became more and more a social
favourite. Her voice, so often compared to that of a Southern
nightingale, was the great attraction for countless projects for
charity and church benefits. She gave to such appeals most generously
of her talents and her time.
Her mother, Mrs. Herndon, died in 1878 while travelling in Europe, and
Mrs. Arthur went over alone to bring the body back to this country for
interment. The shock of her mother’s death, her grief over not being
with her, and the fatigue and strain of the trip undermined her health
so that, when taken ill with pneumonia, she had no reserve strength
with which to combat it, and died after a three-days’ illness on
January 12, 1880.
Her death, so sudden and distressing, was a bitter blow to her husband
just as he was entering upon the most important stage of his public
career. It was also a shock to the host of their friends, many of them
being unaware of Mrs. Arthur’s illness until they learned of her death.
Her popularity was evidenced by the sincere grief of the many over her
death, especially in the circles where her quiet sympathy and charity
had brought so much relief. The Mendelssohn Glee Club of New York
requested to be allowed to sing at her funeral.
Mrs. Mary Arthur McElroy, widow of the Rev. John McElroy of Albany,
Mr. Arthur’s youngest sister, came to his aid and took charge of the
desolate and grief-stricken household. Mr. Arthur would allow none of
his wife’s belongings to be touched. Her room and everything in it was
kept just as she left it, even to a bit of fancy work with the needle
ready for the next stitch was left where she had dropped it.
Chester Alan, Jr., in his teens, was sent away to school, while little
eight-year-old Nellie became the especial care of Mrs. McElroy, who
had two young daughters of her own to rear. When Mr. Arthur found
himself in a few short months the head of the nation, it fell upon his
sister’s shoulders to preside over the White House for him. She had the
same gift of grace and charm of manner that made her handsome brother
so popular, and had been given all the advantages that means and the
educational facilities of the day afforded.
President Arthur returned from the funeral of President Garfield
confronted with the great mass of executive business that had
accumulated during the late President’s illness. He decreed that out
of respect to Garfield’s memory, all correspondence and documents
issued from the White House should bear mourning for six months, and
that the mansion should be closed to residence and visitors until
Congress assembled. He would not install his family until the house
was put in better condition, since he was not at all pleased with
its appearance. The furniture was worn and soiled, the china chipped
and marred and mismatched. Hangings and carpets needed cleaning and
replacing. The storerooms, basement rooms, and attics were filled with
the accumulation of odds and ends of discarded household goods and the
leftovers of personal belongings of all past administrations--outgrown
and forgotten toys, the vast and amazing assortment of “gifts” with
which each succeeding president had been deluged by an admiring public,
cast-off clothing, old umbrellas, and junk of every description.
President Arthur possessed a beautiful home in New York, where the
best of art and literature that his means and taste could provide
found a congenial setting. To him, the condition of the home of the
presidents was such as to call for drastic action, although to intrude
upon the treasures of the attics with an intent to remove them was to
break precedents of as great an antiquity as the mansion itself. But
precedent-breaking had started with President Grant, and continued
vigorously under the winsome Mrs. Hayes, and even without the support
of their procedure, President Arthur would not have hesitated to rid
the White House of the fire trap, as the years’ accumulation was
sometimes termed.
He notified the Commissioner of Public Buildings and Grounds of his
wishes. This official, Colonel Rockwell, reported that he had no money
for repair and renewals. Mr. Arthur, however, demanded that the mansion
be cleaned and renovated, declaring that he would not live in a house
looking as it did, and if the government could not or would not pay for
it he would do so himself.
The work of rehabilitation was at once begun. Twenty-four wagonloads
of household goods of all description were cleared out and sold at
auction, to the delight of collectors and souvenir hunters. It is said
that a pair of trousers and a battered silk hat belonging to President
Lincoln were in the collection, as were also an ancient portmanteau
of Mrs. Abigail Adams, and the carpet bag that had held President
Lincoln’s inaugural speech. The sideboard discarded by Mrs. Hayes was
purchased by a local saloon and restored by the proprietor to its
original use, being stocked with decanters and the paraphernalia and
accompaniments of wines and liquors. Three thousand dollars in cash was
the proceeds from the gigantic house-cleaning.
President Arthur also made some improvements. He had the huge
stained-glass screen, made by Tiffany, installed in the entrance hall
to give a little privacy to the state apartments, since all comers and
goers of every description who had business in those days entered the
mansion and made their way to the “office upstairs.” This custom left
no privacy whatsoever for the family, and little or no protection from
the importunities of visitors, who could thus approach the family if
any member of it ventured through the corridors during the office hours.
By the time Mrs. McElroy arrived with the little girls, everything was
in perfect order and the government paid the bill.
The first formal function of the administration was the New Year’s
reception of 1882. It was noted for its elegance and brilliance.
While the President had requested all members of the Garfield Cabinet
to remain until Congress convened, the personnel changes began by
the end of October. Robert T. Lincoln, Secretary of War, had the
distinction of being the only Cabinet officer to continue with
President Arthur until the close of his régime.
Thus it was a new set of official faces that greeted the New Year
callers.
The reception was at its height when Elisha H. Allen, Hawaiian
Minister, wearing the broad sash of the Order of Kamahameha III, after
passing down the line greeting new officials and old friends, stepped
into the anteroom for his coat and hat and dropped dead. Festivities
were at once stopped, doors closed, and all signs of gaiety checked,
while gloom again descended upon the mansion where tragedy, death, and
sorrow have thrust dark shadows upon every administration.
One of the callers at the reception who had come to pay her respects
to the new President and his Cabinet, and who had attracted universal
attention, was Dr. Mary E. Walker. In her masculine trousers, formal
frock coat, and silk hat, she had vied with the belles in the comment
aroused by her clothes, and not even the gorgeous diamonds of Madame de
Struvem, wife of the Russian Minister, or the unusually handsome gowns
of the new Cabinet ladies, eclipsed hers in interest.
She was the first woman to receive the Medal of Honour from Congress,
with a personal testimonial from the President of the United States;
the first woman commissioned as assistant army surgeon; the first woman
to adopt men’s attire for her permanent dress and then legalize it by
obtaining an Act of Congress to authorize her use of it; and also the
first woman prisoner of war to be exchanged for a man of her own rank.
And all of this grew out of her resentment at having been born a girl
and her lifelong rebellion over the limitations hedging the feminine
sex.
Always annoyed with the exactions of fashions which she would not
follow, as expressed in hoop skirts, high heels, false hair, and rouge,
Dr. Mary, at the opening of her professional career, devised and wore
what she called the American Reform Costume.
With the opening of the Civil War, Dr. Walker was commissioned a first
lieutenant and assistant army surgeon. She served on battlefields and
in hospitals, where her use of man’s attire facilitated her work. Her
bravery under fire and untiring service for the wounded brought her
the Medal of Honour from Congress and the personal thanks of President
Lincoln. To the end of her life, she wore her masculine garb and her
cherished medal. Her later years were devoted to philanthropy.
The season thus opened by the presidential family, brilliant functions
followed one another in rapid succession, and all Washington social
leaders joined the official celebrities in the number and splendour of
the banquets, balls, dances, and receptions.
President Arthur, “First Gentleman of the Land,” completely revised
his social régime, reverting to the formality and exclusiveness of the
code planned by General Washington and Alexander Hamilton, although
he occasionally dined with friends; and while Mrs. McElroy did no
calling, she too reserved the right of dining out. Mrs. McElroy
introduced serving tea at her afternoon receptions and refreshments
after all other receptions. The formal dinners were the President’s
especial delight, occupying whole evenings. They were achievements
in gastronomic art, and the elegance of their service made them a
distinctive function of the administration.
President Arthur’s position and appearance, and the fact that he
was the most eligible widower of the land, made him the target for
the attentions and machinations of hosts of women. Mothers with
marriageable daughters, engaging widows eager to console and to be
consoled, and hosts of romantic girls who visioned the President as
the reincarnation of the famous King Arthur, all put forth their most
winning smiles in the effort to focus his attention upon themselves.
Did he pay a compliment to one, present a posy to another, stroll
through the conservatory alone with the wife or daughter of a member
of his Cabinet, lo! tongues wagged, shoulders were shrugged, eyebrows
lifted, telegrams bore veiled allusions, and gossip had him tagged and
all ready for marriage bells to ring. The only difficulty was that
the President kept serenely on his way with the same deference and
gallantry to all, and eventually any hopes of a White House bride to
give society a new sensation in this administration faded before the
conviction that a second marriage was not listed upon the presidential
calendar of intentions.
President Arthur gave a state dinner and reception in honour of
General and Mrs. Grant who were his guests at the White House while
on a visit to Washington. On March 22, 1883, the dinner was given to
the Diplomatic Corps, so that the members of that body in Washington
might have the opportunity to meet the former President, who had been
honoured above all other Americans in his tour of the world so recently
completed.
It was a most brilliant affair, and opened a series of unusually
delightful and elegant functions for the former President and First
Lady. The state dining room, the East Room, and all other state
apartments were so elaborately decorated with flowers as to resemble a
tropical garden.
On the evening of the next day came the reception to which the public
was invited, to pay its respects to the great commander and the gentle
lady who had never refused an appeal for aid nor withheld her sympathy
during the eight years of her residence in the house of the Presidents.
The dinner and reception in honour of Christine Nilsson was regarded
as the smartest event of the year. After the President escorted the
singer to the East Room, she sang with the Marine Band, her splendid
voice high above it as she carried the air. Later in the evening, a
large throng attended the reception, during which she sang “The Last
Rose of Summer” and “Way Down Upon the Suwanee River,” playing her own
accompaniments. Those privileged to attend considered the event one of
rare distinction.
While struggling with the problems of administration, President Arthur
contrived to get relaxation in his chosen way. He loved to gather old
friends about him and chat with them over late suppers. Owing to his
strict rule, few of these little social gatherings were chronicled by
the papers. His knowledge of political life and his acquaintance with
prominent men made these supper parties of utmost importance, and to be
bidden to attend was even more of a command to be cherished and obeyed
than the usual White House invitations. Upon one occasion, a party of
his old friends came from New York City, each bringing his own oyster
fork, which he presented to the President as a souvenir after the
dinner.
The detailed accounts of President Arthur’s régime are meagre because
of his dislike of publicity. He would not allow any chronicles of daily
doings of the White House, or photographs of his children to be made or
appear in the papers, or any stories to be given out about them.
Gossip attached many versions to the story of the portrait of a pretty
woman in the President’s private apartment, before which flowers in
profusion were placed daily by his order. The story lost its zest when
it was learned that it was the portrait of his wife, the Virginia
nightingale, mother of Alan and Nellie.
Nellie Arthur spent but little time in Washington, as she was attending
a French school in New York City, while her brother was at college.
Both frequently returned to visit their father, bringing young
classmates to visit the White House with them. They spent lively days
of sightseeing, often visiting the monument of their grandfather,
Captain Herndon, at Annapolis.
Although born and reared under the teaching of a Baptist clergyman,
President Arthur deserted that faith and became an Episcopalian, and
he and his household attended St. John’s Church--the Church of the
Presidents, across from the White House. He placed there a beautiful
memorial window in honour of his wife, and arranged for flowers to be
sent regularly from the White House conservatory for the altar.
The President’s young son found Washington a delightful and alluring
place to spend week-ends and brief holidays from college. His
appearance meant a gay frolic, and with his father’s team and his banjo
he was a welcome addition to the younger set.
Nellie, though but twelve when her father left the capital, left a
memorial to her kindly heart among the poor children of the city, for
she organized and was the first president of the Christmas Club which,
the first year, collected more than twenty thousand gifts of toys,
sweets, and clothing for the needy little ones--an institution which
has never been allowed to lapse.
In June of 1882, the Army of the Cumberland held its annual meeting
and resolved to erect a monument to General Garfield. Adjutant General
Swaim of the army was appointed to make the necessary arrangements for
a bazaar. Circulars were sent broadcast, appealing for contributions of
every description. Every trade, profession, and science was besought to
give or loan material for exhibits.
As the plans progressed, it was decided that the only place suitable
to hold such an ambitious function was in the Rotunda and Statuary
Hall of the National Capitol. Accordingly, the proper officials were
interviewed and the privilege granted by Congress, so that the fair
might open on November 25, 1882.
The next step was the formation of many state boards or committees to
assist by taking charge of booths. Notable among these were the booths
of Iowa, New Jersey, Illinois, Kansas, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Kentucky,
Arkansas, and New York.
When the truck loads of donations began to arrive, the great historical
pictures of the Rotunda were covered with canvas and the marble statues
were moved back out of the way in Statuary Hall. When the decorators
had finished placing the loan exhibits of art, the bunting, and the
flags, no one would have recognized the Hall of Representatives,
whose lofty ceiling and dim corners sent back echoes of the oratory
of Webster, Clay, and Calhoun and caught the last uttered word of
the venerable John Quincy Adams. Instead of marble busts and bronze
figures, booths appeared, gaily decked with jewellery, perfumery,
candy, fancy aprons, pincushions, dolls, and crazy quilts. From some,
the new-fashioned “Mother Hubbard” gown swung to and fro. Sewing
machines, pianos, organs, vied with clocks, churns, and washtubs,
and all imaginable utilitarian and ornamental household articles.
Kansas wheat, corn, and great roosters of wood, busts, portraits, and
paintings of Garfield, Henry Clay, and other notables distinguished the
booths of the various states. The Rotunda was turned into an Art Hall.
Vinnie Ream Hoxie had charge of the arrangement and made the spot one
of rare beauty and interest with the aid of flowers and numerous loaned
portraits, among which was one from the British Minister, of Queen
Victoria in her royal robes.
Finally, all preparations for the evening were completed, and at noon,
November 25, 1882, the Garfield Memorial Fair was formally opened by
President Arthur. The Marine Band played lively national airs and
gay music. The enthusiasm and the joyousness of the crowd were in
vivid contrast to the scene of fourteen months before when the place
was shrouded in crêpe and the body of the slain President lay on the
catafalque less than a dozen steps from where his successor now stood.
Less than four years after this spontaneous effort to start the fund
to memorialize Garfield’s life and administration in marble or bronze,
the President who spoke so feelingly of his slain chief was also in
his grave, as were a number of officials who cheerfully and earnestly
participated in the opening of the bazaar--David Davis, and Secretaries
Frelinghuysen, Folger, and Howe.
Every inch of space was occupied--all Washington, his wife, children,
and lap dogs were present--for this was the period when the lap-dog
craze swept the city on the Potomac with the same force as the fad for
crazy quilts and the Mother Hubbard gown, which was so much the other
extreme of tie-back skirts, street-sweeping trains, and bustles. Papers
of the day tell of diminutive lap dogs with costly rings on their paws
and engraved visiting cards for calling.
All of the city attended, black and white alike seeking to see and to
buy. Most popular of all attractions was the selling of chances on the
elegant diamond earrings, the finger-rings, the lovely India shawl
valued at $1,500, the handsome saddles, and other much-desired articles.
From November 25th to December 3d pandemonium continued with the usual
disputes, losses, and thefts, and when all of the débris was cleared
away and the basement disgorged the loads of boxes whose contents
had never been exhibited, it was found that, instead of the huge sum
expected from the $50,000 gross receipts, the amount had dwindled
through expenses and other channels to $7,000, the sum General Swaim
was able to turn over to the Army of the Cumberland. So many charges of
misappropriation of beautiful articles designed to be raffled or sold,
so much of plain stealing was apparent, that a group of army officers
conducted a quiet investigation, after which it was concluded wisest,
safest, and best to drop the entire subject.
Frances Hodgson Burnett, it is said, gave the Mother Hubbard its best
advertisement at the fair, appearing garbed in this style gown made
of lovely violet silk and elaborately trimmed with bolt upon bolt of
dainty narrow lace and fluttering ribbons.
President Arthur was denied the satisfaction of national approbation
which his election to the Presidency would have given him, and as the
close of his term drew near, he welcomed the relief of the release
from the heavy burden. He entered into every plan for the reception of
his successor, and extended every possible courtesy to the incoming
administration.
Mrs. McElroy was openly mourned. Senator and Mrs. Pendleton gave a
brilliant reception in her honour on her retirement, and all the
officials departing and those expecting to fill their places with the
resident social groups attended to do her honour. The young girls to
whom she had been such a fairy godmother of good times escorted her to
her train in a delegation and filled the cars with flowers.
President Arthur was not regretful at leaving the job that had caused
him so much care. In his overanxiety to do what seemed best for the
country, he had made enemies of old-time friends. Desiring to rise
above partisan and factional contests, he had failed in his effort to
please both parties. Slander, ridicule, and misrepresentation were
hurled at him, not only by the Democrats, but by the opposing faction
of his own party. Merciless abuse fell upon him for not complying
with all requests with regard to appointments. Each faction had its
chosen array of patronage which it demanded, and whichever way the
distribution was made, there was dissatisfaction. While he might easily
have found eager friends to reveal inside facts that would have placed
him in a better light and permitted such odium as there was to fall
upon those who were responsible, he flatly refused, preferring to bear
the brunt of much misjudgment himself rather than to be the means of
shifting it to another.
The calumny resulted, however, in the breaking of his spirit and his
health.
His administration was one of dignity, intelligence, and firmness. He
met the problems that beset him with marked skill. He took a firm stand
in support of the Civil Service laws and appointed a commission to
revise the tariff. He added his influence to the promotion of Indian
education, supported the plans to increase the strength of the navy,
and also the measures for controlling and improving the course of the
Mississippi River. Under his régime, a Civil Service Commission was
established to conduct examinations for appointments to minor places in
the government service.
His administration saw a return of prosperity in the greatest degree
the country had ever experienced. The public debt was reduced nearly
$500,000,000, internal revenue stamps were repealed, the number of
collection districts was lessened, and letter postage was reduced from
three cents per one half ounce to two cents per one ounce. A bill
was passed for distributing the Geneva award, another for returning
convicts to our shores, the tax on matches, checks, and drafts was
removed, and the importation of convict labour was forbidden. In
1883, the President joined the Villard Excursion party to drive the
silver spike. Provision was made for the adjudication of the French
spoliation claims long awaiting payment and for the final distribution
of the balance of $15,000,000, paid by England to the United States in
satisfaction of the claims of Americans for losses by rebel cruisers
fitted out in British ports.
The Star Route contractors were brought to trial, and the long-brewing
scandal of their transactions ended. These contractors had mail routes
remote from the great lines of travel for which they demanded huge
sums for the service of getting the mail through on time. In the
investigation ordered by President Arthur, it was shown that thousands
of dollars had been continuously paid by the government for no service
at all, and for weekly service for which some careless cowboy had been
paid seventy-five dollars a month, and in some cases much smaller
amounts. Attorney General Brewster finally secured the indictment of
seven of these, and the trial dragged along for months, attracting a
great sensation because of the prominence and brilliance of the legal
lights on both sides. As no conspiracy against the government could
be found as alleged by the prosecution, the jury rendered a verdict
of acquittal. The government had spent a lot of money, and while the
contractors missed punishment through their acquittal, the publicity
and the attitude of the officials broke up the system of the star route
by which the United States Post Office and Treasury had so long been
victimized.
Among the last official acts of President Arthur was the signing of
the bill to retire General Grant with full rank and pay. He also
urged Congressional action upon the gifts presented by Mrs. Grant as
expressed in the letter here quoted:
Executive Mansion, February 3, 1885.
TO THE SENATE AND HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES:
I take especial pleasure in laying before Congress the generous offer
made by Mrs. Grant to give to the Government, in personal trust,
the swords and military (and civil) testimonials lately belonging to
General Grant. A copy of the deed of trust and of a letter addressed
to me by Mr. William H. Vanderbilt, which I transmit herewith, will
explain the nature and motives of this offer.
Appreciation of General Grant’s achievements and recognition of his
just fame have in part taken the shape of numerous mementoes and
gifts which, while dear to him, possess for the nation an exceptional
interest. These relics, of great historical value, have passed into
the hands of another, whose considerate action has restored the
collection to Mrs. Grant as a life trust, on the condition that, at
the death of General Grant, or sooner, at Mrs. Grant’s option, it
should become the property of the Government, as set forth in the
accompanying papers. In the exercise of the option thus given her,
Mrs. Grant elects that the trust shall forthwith determine, and asks
that the Government designate a suitable place of deposit and a
responsible custodian for the collection.
The nature of this gift and value of the relics which the generosity
of a private citizen, joined to the high sense of public regard
which animates Mrs. Grant, have thus placed at the disposal of the
Government, demand full and signal recognition on behalf of the nation
at the hands of its representatives. I therefore ask Congress to take
suitable action to accept the trust and to provide for its secure
custody, at the same time recording the appreciative gratitude of the
people of the United States to the donors.
In this connection I may patiently advert to the pending legislation
of the Senate and House of Representatives looking to a national
recognition of General Grant’s eminent services by providing the means
for his restoration to the Army on the retired list. That Congress,
by taking such action, will give expression to the almost universal
desire of the people of this nation is evident, and I earnestly urge
the passage of an act similar to Senate bill No. 2530, which, while
not interfering with the constitutional prerogative of appointment,
will enable the President in his discretion to nominate General Grant
as general upon the retired list.
CHESTER A. ARTHUR.
Notable among the events to add distinction to the Capital City was
the completion and dedication of the Washington Monument on George
Washington’s birthday anniversary in 1885. This ceremony rounding out
eighty-six years of intermittent construction from the inception of the
plan offered a splendid finale to President Arthur’s administration.
The day was bitterly cold with a high wind which made the ceremonies
difficult for the little party of officials on the platform five
hundred feet from the ground. After the various addresses by officials,
the President dedicated the monument “to the immortal name and memory
of George Washington.” The entire party, including the vast concourse
of people assembled at the base, marched to the Capitol where the
venerable Robert Winthrop delivered the oration of the day just as he
had done on the memorable day in 1848 when the corner stone was laid.
The monument has the proud record, the like of which no other structure
of its scope can claim, of there having been no lives lost during the
process of its construction. When the work on the top was begun, P. H.
Laughlin, the superintendent, devised a strong net which was raised as
the structure increased in height and was kept fastened firmly to all
four sides. Although most of the workmen slipped and fell into this
from time to time, none was killed.
The most comprehensive summary of Chester Arthur and his administration
was found in the tribute of Elihu Root at the unveiling of the monument
to his memory in New York, June 13, 1899, of which the following is an
extract:
“Surely no more lonely and pathetic figure was ever seen assuming
the powers of government. He had no people behind him, for Garfield,
not he, was the people’s choice; he had no party behind him, for the
dominant factions of his party hated his name, were enraged by his
advancement, and distrusted his motives. He had not even his own
faction behind him, for he already knew that the just discharge of
his duties would not accord with the ardent desires of partisanship,
and that disappointment and estrangement lay before him there. He
was alone. He was bowed down by the weight of fearful responsibility
and crushed to earth by the feeling, exaggerated, but not unfounded,
that he took up his heavy burden surrounded by dislike, suspicion,
distrust, and condemnation as an enemy of the martyred Garfield and
the beneficiary of his murder. Deep and settled melancholy possessed
him; almost despair overwhelmed him. He went to power walking through
the valley of the shadow of death and ascended the steps of a throne
as one who is accused goes to his trial. He was wise in statesmanship,
firm and effective in administration. Honesty in national finance,
purity and effectiveness in the civil service, the promotion of
commerce, the recreation of the American Navy, reconciliation between
North and South, an honourable friendship with foreign nations,
received his active support.
“The genuineness of his patriotism, the integrity of his purpose,
and the wisdom of his conduct, changed general distrust to universal
confidence, reëstablished popular belief in the adequacy of our
constitutional system in all emergencies, and restored an abiding
trust in the perpetuity of our government. He himself greatly aided to
make true the memorable words of his first inaugural: ‘Men may die,
but the fabrics of our free institutions remain unshaken.’”
CHAPTER VII
FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF GROVER CLEVELAND
_March 4, 1885, to March 4, 1889_
The fourth of March, 1885, dawned fair and warm, the finest weather
ever known in the history of the city of Washington on Inauguration
Day. Cleveland luck had captured the weather. The city seemed to
respond to the spring air, and block after block blossomed with
fluttering banners, waving flags, and tri-coloured bunting. Huge
lithographs of Cleveland and Hendricks were displayed in store windows,
as well as from the windows of residences. The usual tribe of vendors
of canes, buttons, noise-makers, and such, seemed to have multiplied
their numbers until they were thick upon every block of the line of
march.
The railroads and the Potomac River boats had poured into the city
more than half a million people, and hotels and boarding houses
overflowed their most elastic limits, while hundreds of private houses
not entertaining friends and relatives responded greedily to the
quadrennial opportunity to profiteer. Never before or since has there
been so general a representation of all of the states as composed the
military and political organizations in the parade that attended the
ceremony of Mr. Cleveland’s induction into office.
Members of the Senate Committee of inaugural arrangements called on the
President-elect at the Arlington Hotel in President Arthur’s carriage,
and, with Mr. Cleveland, returned to the White House afterward. When
the march to the Capitol began, these, with President Arthur, occupied
the first carriage, and Vice President-elect Hendricks followed in
the second. They were escorted by the first division of the inaugural
parade, with the Seventh Regiment of New York leading. Pennsylvania
sent 8,000 state militia, reaching almost from the Treasury to the
Peace Monument, a moving field of blue. These were followed by the
Richmond Blues, led by General Fitzhugh Lee, later elected Governor
of Virginia. The Grand Army and countless other patriotic and civic
organizations and marching clubs added their units to this wonderful
pageant. General Henry W. Slocum, as Grand Marshal, led the procession
briskly through a record-breaking throng drawn by the great enthusiasm
over the return of the Democratic party to power after twenty-four
years.
Vice President-elect Hendricks received the oath from the President
_pro tempore_ of the Senate, Mr. Edmunds; the new senators were sworn
in as usual, and the President-elect deviated from the usual procedure
by making his inaugural address before taking the oath. This address
was received with absorbed attention and, when published, produced
a great deal of comment in which criticism and approval were given
in full measure, especially as Mr. Cleveland was the first President
actually to deliver his address, the others having read their
manuscripts. Since he had a natural ability readily to memorize his own
writings, he had no need of carrying a manuscript.
As he concluded his remarks, he turned to Chief Justice Waite, who
administered the oath.
President Arthur had provided one of his usual delightful luncheons,
after which President Cleveland went to the stand to review the
marvellous pageant assembled in his honour, comprising 25,000 men whose
passing consumed more than five hours. Dusk was closing down upon the
city when the last group swept past and saluted.
No procession in any part of our broad land is at all like an inaugural
parade. The appearances of the new incumbent of the White House before
and after taking the oath call forth incidents, episodes, comments,
complimentary and critical, of a type wholly American. Thus, the crowd
whiles away the hours between the ride to the Capitol and the return
to the White House. The journey to the ceremony of swearing in the
President-elect is usually made in company with the retiring head of
the nation, and is often a divided honour, tinged with the regret
of parting with the man who has filled the place for four years.
Coming back, the new leader fills the picture. All triumphant, he
belongs to the people, and demonstrations carry the note of jubilation
grateful to the ear. Many amusing things happen in a good-natured
celebration, and human nature unrestrained effervesces and bubbles
over the rim of everyday restraint. One sees and hears the flamboyant
individuals--always in evidence--who knew the new President in every
stage of his life and career.
Among the many amusing features of the Cleveland parade was the arrival
of President Cleveland’s baggage. The crowd patiently waiting in the
covered stand across from the White House found great entertainment
in watching the open wagon piled high with shabby and travel-scarred
trunks, all marked “G.C.” in large white letters, which turned in at
the White House gates. The large white letters and the destination sent
the crowd into shouts of laughter at “Grover’s moving in!” The crowning
feature was a huge bent-wood armchair, large enough for three ordinary
men, which topped the load. This was the first of the thousands of
gifts sent to Mr. Cleveland by admirers and favour-seeking citizens.
One of the charming stories of Grover Cleveland illustrates his great
love and understanding of children. After his election in 1884, while
in Kenwood, he requested that the children attending the Convent of
the Sacred Heart be given a holiday on his Inauguration Day. In spite
of all of the demands upon his time and attention in departing for
Washington, he did not forget the matter, but on March 2d sent a check
for fifty dollars to provide a celebration. With it he sent a note to
the Mother Superior.
Albany, Mar. 2, 1885.
DEAR MOTHER O’RORKE:
I send by my good friend Mr. McCall something which I hope will cause
the little ones at the Convent to know that, while they are thinking
of me, they are not forgotten by the man who in the midst of their
holiday is undergoing the most perplexing ordeal that his life can
bring to him.
With many kind thoughts of you and all of the good people, I am,
Yours faithfully,
GROVER CLEVELAND.
The letter and the check brought great delight. They were duly
acknowledged and the President told of the details of the party. After
the feast was finished, the children were provided with tiny bottles
of champagne, from which a toast was drunk to “Our new President,
Grover Cleveland,” and certainly no other toast carried more unselfish
affection and sincere good wishes for the new President than the one
from the Convent pupils, who also sent him a telegram of congratulation
to the White House on the evening of Inauguration Day.
Preparations to make the inaugural ball of the new Democratic President
outstrip all of its predecessors had gone on for months. The new
Pension Building, recently completed, was chosen for the affair.
New York decorators transformed the interior into an extravagantly
beautiful scene. Ferns, palms, flags, and draperies, costing thousands
of dollars, covered walls and arches. In the President’s room stood
a huge throne chair made of flowers, while a gigantic globe, also
of flowers, was made to represent the State, the War, and the Navy
departments, and flower scales, the Department of Justice. The Marine
Band, under the direction of John Philip Sousa, furnished dance music
for more than two thousand couples. Eight thousand people attended this
ball, and while the highly waxed dancing hall measured three hundred by
one hundred and sixteen feet, there was never at any time during the
entire evening room on the floor for all those desiring to dance.
President Cleveland, his sister, Miss Rose Cleveland, who came from
Holland Patent to preside over the White House for her bachelor
brother, with Vice President and Mrs. Hendricks, attended for a short
time.
While such of the populace as paid five dollars per ticket danced at
the President’s ball, the rest of the city enjoyed the fireworks on the
ellipse south of the White House. The following evening, a band concert
in the Pension Building drew another crowd, who cheerfully paid the
admission fee to see the rooms and their decorations.
Cleveland had not come into office unopposed. When it had become
evident that President Arthur would not be nominated to succeed
himself, Republican attention had again turned to James G. Blaine,
who had been nursing presidential ambitions for a number of years,
and who was the outstanding leader of that party. The National
Republican Convention assembled in Chicago on June 3, 1884, with no
organized opposition to threaten the prospects of Mr. Blaine, who was
nominated, early in the course of the proceedings. Having a coloured
man as temporary chairman was the unusual feature of this convention,
the office being filled by John R. Lynch, former representative from
Mississippi. Ex-Senator John B. Henderson, of Missouri, was the
permanent chairman. General John A. Logan (“Black Jack”), was nominated
as the running mate of Blaine. Their nicknames, the “Plumed Knight” and
the “Black Eagle,” formed the basis for some of the campaign jingles.
The National Democratic Convention likewise convened in Chicago, July
6, 1884, at which Grover Cleveland was put forward, his nomination
having been made certain by the withdrawal in his favour of Samuel J.
Randall of Pennsylvania. Grover Cleveland was nominated on the second
ballot. Thomas Hendricks of Indiana received the nomination for Vice
President without opposition.
Conventions were plentiful in the land that summer. A national
Prohibition convention chose Pittsburgh for the scene of its
operations, opening on July 23d. Ex-Governor St. John of Kansas and
William Daniel of Maryland were chosen for the president and vice
president. The National Greenback Convention met in Indianapolis on
May 29th, nominating General Benjamin F. Butler of Massachusetts for
president and A. M. West of Mississippi for vice president. Still
another was that of the Woman’s Equal Rights Party, which met in San
Francisco, September, 1884, and nominated Mrs. Belva Lockwood, of New
York, lawyer, lecturer, and suffrage leader, for the Presidency.
To Belva Ann Lockwood belongs the honour of being the second woman
nominated for the Presidency of the United States; likewise to her
also belongs the honour of being the first woman admitted to practise
before the Supreme Court. For this privilege, she had to get a
bill through Congress permitting women to practise law, and worked
tirelessly for three years to create favourable sentiment before the
barrier was lifted. When she finished her efforts, every court in the
land was open to her, and never again was a woman lawyer’s application
refused because she was a woman and, as in Mrs. Lockwood’s case, a
married woman.
Mrs. Lockwood worked tirelessly for equal rights for men and women
and drafted and secured the passage of a bill giving to women in
governmental service equal pay with men for equal work.
The Woman’s Equal Rights Party nominated her for the Presidency, in
San Francisco in 1884 and again in 1888. While she had not sought the
honour, she conducted vigorous campaigns.
In forty-three years of legal practice, her greatest effort was always
on behalf of the soldier, sailor, and marine, and during this time she
handled more than seven thousand pension cases, alone. She also secured
the passing of a bill appropriating $50,000 for bounties for soldiers
and marines.
Through her work for world peace, she probably acquired the greatest
fame. For thirty-six years she was a member of the Universal Peace
Union, attending the International Peace Bureau at Bern for more than
a quarter of a century, and taking a leading part in every large
gathering in this cause, beginning with the first Peace Congress in
1885. She compiled the peace treaties of the United States and secured
the introduction of the first bill in Congress for an international
arbitration court.
After the Peace Congress in London, in 1890, though sixty years of
age, Mrs. Lockwood remained abroad long enough to take a course of
lectures at Oxford. When eighty-two, she started off to Europe to carry
a peace message to the women of the world, and in 1916, just a year
before her death, she gave an address on the re-election of Woodrow
Wilson, giving seven reasons for his choice. This was used as campaign
literature.
With the nominees of five different parties in the field, each
making a fight for the needed votes to insure victory, the political
atmosphere became tense. Courtesy and politeness seemed forgotten as
the contest became one of the ugliest in the national history; no
effort was spared to discredit, defame, and disqualify the candidates.
The private life and character of each of the two most prominent was
mercilessly attacked, and both Blaine and Cleveland were subject to
fierce gruelling in the exposé of incidents, episodes, and transactions
of their earlier lives. Sentiment appeared to be overwhelmingly strong
for Blaine as party leader, but he was not optimistic. He had seen the
coveted victory slip from his grasp before, and he was wearied with
defeats and hopes deferred!
A few days before election, the tide was turned against Blaine, and
the distrust of him crystallized by the speech of the Reverend M.
Burchard, veteran minister representing a delegation of clergymen. In
his remarks, Mr. Burchard warned his country against “Rum, Romanism,
and Rebellion,” and thus gave to the anti-Blaine factions a slogan
which Tammany at once placed on billboards, bulletins, and banners, and
sent its ringing echoes through the succeeding years as a warning to
all subsequent campaigners. Blaine once again dropped his banners in
defeat, though Cleveland carried only a meagre victory of a thousand
votes in his state.
Mr. Cleveland served as Governor until the meeting of the Legislature
after election, when he closed his career with this, the shortest
message on record:
January 6, 1885.
TO THE LEGISLATURE:
I hereby resign the office of Governor of the State of New York.
GROVER CLEVELAND.
Until elected to the Presidency, Grover Cleveland concerned himself
but slightly with the history of his family, being content with the
fact that his line had comprised honourable men and good women, who
had filled their respective places with honour to themselves. Each
generation turned out ministers, though they shifted their sectarian
allegiance--Presbyterian, Congregationalist, and Episcopalian
denominations being represented by clergy of this name.
Richard Falley Cleveland, the father of Grover, a Yale graduate, was a
Presbyterian minister. His task was to bring up and educate a family of
nine children on an annual income of $600.
As so many youngsters in the family made it necessary for young Grover
to go to work early, at fourteen he secured a place in the general
store, where for the sum of fifty dollars a year he swept floors,
cleaned windows, opened and closed shutters, sold calico and sugar,
beans and ribbon, hardware and candy. He shared the bare attic room
over the store and its discomforts with another boy--no carpet, no
stove, no wall paper to modify the icy wind blowing through the cracks
between boards. In winter, they froze, and in summer, they were almost
prostrated with the heat under the rafters. Their bed had a lumpy
straw-stuffed tick in lieu of a mattress, to the knots and lumps of
which only youth could adjust itself and still sleep.
Soon, he had saved and earned enough in other ways to be able to attend
the academy at Clinton, and at seventeen, after his father’s death, he
was teaching in the New York Institution for the Blind, where his elder
brother, William, also a Presbyterian clergyman, was the principal.
Finally, he took Horace Greeley’s advice, “Go West, young man, go
West!” and started for Ohio. He halted at Buffalo, took up the study of
law, and was admitted to the bar.
Mr. Cleveland was a bachelor for many years. He took care of his
mother, who preferred living in her own home in the little village at
Holland Patent, where she died in 1882. He gave a liberal education to
his youngest sister, Rose, a talented girl.
In 1881, he was the city’s choice for Mayor. In six months, his methods
and careful administration saved the city more than a million dollars.
By this careful supervision and elimination he became known as the
“Veto Mayor.”
He was elected Governor of New York, September 20, 1882, and in that
capacity continued his methods and practices as Mayor. The “Veto Mayor”
advanced to the “Veto Governor” and won the respect of men of both
parties.
Thus, as the Democratic party had been gradually regaining its pre-war
status, the popular Governor of New York, the state that would swing
the election, was regarded as the logical man to be the presidential
candidate and the one nominated and elected.
When Cleveland began considering his Cabinet, while he was still at
Albany letters serious and amusing poured in--asking office, giving
advice; congratulatory, denunciatory. One newspaper man called on him
and stated that from time to time he would send him information about
public men, unsigned, but in his own handwriting. Daily envelopes
came in, with cards of convenient form for filing, treating of nearly
everybody proposed for the Cabinet, distinguished visitors announced
in the public press as on their way to Albany, and well-known men
generally--a separate card for each person. Good points were written
in red ink; discreditable facts and characteristics were in black ink.
Each card was a concise record of the deeds, character, and influence
of the man dealt with, and gave an incisive, impartial, and accurate
analysis of those about whom they were written from the point of view
of an able and experienced observer of current events. The whole record
made a kind of judgment-day book of men of both parties conspicuous
in national affairs, in civil life, and in the army. Many people
were surprised at the knowledge shown by Cleveland of the political
affiliations of prominent men.
When the portfolios were finally announced, there was general
satisfaction. In selecting Senator Bayard of Delaware for Secretary of
State, President Cleveland satisfied a large following that had twice
declared its desire for Bayard as President. Senator Bayard’s charming
family was a distinct acquisition to the official group.
Daniel Manning, of New York, as the new Secretary of the Treasury,
was also a happy choice. Manager and owner of the Albany _Argus_, a
clever politician, and president of a National Bank, he possessed many
qualifications for this post. There was an expression of universal
satisfaction that he was to preside over the national money vaults.
Upon the capable New England shoulders of William C. Endicott,
astute lawyer and advocate of Civil Service Reform, was placed the
responsibility of the War Department.
The fortunes of our long-neglected navy, with its ninety more or less
obsolete warships, were destined to undergo radical changes under the
efficient direction of William C. Whitney, of New York. The story of
how Mr. Whitney transformed the navy is an epic in American leadership
and an epoch in American history.
The Secretary of the Interior, Lucius Quintus Curtius Lamar, of
Mississippi, represented the South. He was regarded as especially keen
minded, a moulder of public opinion.
Postmaster General Vilas was a Vermonter by birth and a Westerner by
adoption, having established his business career in Wisconsin, from
which state he went into the Union Army. He was an expert in the
intricate machinery of American politics.
The legal authority of the new Cabinet came from the Senate, a man with
an enviable reputation. This was Attorney General Augustus H. Garland,
of Arkansas.
This Cabinet has been considered one of remarkable strength, but Grover
Cleveland was always the President.
Most important to every President is his choice of a private
secretary. Cleveland, in selecting his official family, lost no
time over deliberation on this position. He simply took with him to
Washington Daniel S. Lamont, from every standpoint the best man for
the position, fitted in every way for the important part he was to
play in the national drama. Mr. Lamont set an example for the future
by establishing a new standard and a new conception of the part of the
Executive Secretary.
By the middle of March, the President was fairly settled and gave his
first official reception, to which the Diplomatic Corps and Congress
were invited, to meet the new Cabinet. As the Marine Band played “Hail
to the Chief,” the President came down the stairs with Mrs. Bayard on
his arm, while the new Secretary of State escorted Miss Rose Cleveland,
with the rest of the Cabinet following in succession. It was soon
apparent that the President was not in his congenial element; such
affairs were not to his taste. He had an enormous capacity for work and
a great deal of work to do, of which the social end did not seem to him
a really vital part.
Old families of the city, who had ignored the White House since the
days of the kindly Buchanan and the lovely Harriet Lane, found it
convenient, expedient, and agreeable to call upon the President and
Miss Cleveland. While this was done out of deference to the party,
it did not impress the new Executive to the extent of securing for
them any more attention or consideration than was given to any other
representatives.
The church people of Washington were eager to secure the new head of
the nation as a communicant. The matter was settled by Miss Cleveland,
who chose the First Presbyterian Church at Four and One Half Street. At
her first reception, March 21st, the Reverend Byron Sunderland and his
wife presented themselves to her. He was delighted when Miss Cleveland
reminded him that her mother had attended his church in New York State.
Because of this association, she took a pew in his Washington church,
which was used later by Mrs. Grover Cleveland.
The first Easter after he came to the Presidency, Mr. Cleveland won the
hearts of the Washington children by reviving the custom of rolling
eggs on the lawns of the White House, a custom peculiar to the Capital
City. The President loved children, and he not only opened the grounds
for the usual egg-rolling, but received all the youngsters in the
East Room, shaking hands with each one. Many of them, responding to
his friendly smile, presented him and his sister with battered eggs.
Between four and five thousand children, black and white, of every
class, race, and condition attended. The only badge of eligibility was
a basket of multi-coloured eggs.
Congress was in extra session for months, and the question of
appointments under Civil Service occupied a large share of attention
of the entire administration, placing a check, as it did, upon the
old-time practice of wholesale dismissals with each new administration.
This literal interpretation of the purpose of Civil Service, whereby a
man need not lose his position unless guilty of neglect or abuse of his
office, was a distinct shock to those of the older order, who believed
that to the victor belonged the spoils.
From the first year of his term, Cleveland became involved in
difficulties with some of the most influential men of his own party
over his determination to uphold the reform and to adhere to his
resolution to keep principle above partisanship.
His contest with the Senate over the Tenure of Office Act, which he
insisted had fallen into innocuous desuetude, resulted in a complete
victory for him, and he was not thereafter handicapped in his
appointments. His attitude from the beginning on military pensions
attracted wide comment. He demanded proof of real merit on the part of
any applicant. Because of his vetoing so many private pension bills, he
became the “Veto President.”
The entire nation was saddened by the death of General Grant during the
first summer of the Cleveland administration.
Late in November, Vice President Hendricks passed away, before he had
served even a year of his term.
Following his death, Congress passed the Presidential Succession Bill.
It was a measure that provided for the filling of the Executive Office
in the event of the deaths of both President and Vice President, by
the Secretary of State, then the Secretary of the Treasury, and so on,
through the membership of the Cabinet, should any such necessity arise.
This became a law in January, 1886.
The New Year’s Reception of 1886 was exceptional in its large
attendance. The weather was propitious and thus encouraged the timid to
get themselves into their best bibs and tuckers and present themselves
in line. The President greeted his guests cordially as Colonel Wilson
made the introductions. The gowns of the receiving ladies drew much
attention. Miss Cleveland was especially smart in her white silk and
garnet velvet. Mrs. Bayard wore white silk crêpe. Mrs. Whitney was
elegant with her magnificent diamonds and her white ottoman silk with
its embroidered panel front of crystal and pearls. Mrs. Endicott’s
heliotrope satin was draped with thin chiffon of deeper tint, and Mrs.
Vilas’s pink satin and point lace offered a bright colour contrast to
the others.
The Cabinet was blessed with a goodly share of young daughters and
nieces to add life and gaiety and keep up the social traditions. Among
them was Miss Kate Bayard. The reception was the last formal White
House function that she attended, as her untimely death occurred
two weeks later and was followed by that of her mother. This was
so unexpected and such a shock as to throw a shadow over the whole
official group; she was to have assisted Miss Cleveland at a White
House function on the day she died.
[Illustration: MRS. GROVER CLEVELAND
In her wedding gown]
In the social life of Washington in Cleveland’s days, the activities
of William C. Whitney, Secretary of the Navy, and his charming wife,
eclipsed those of any other public man. A local paper gives some
account of their home:
“In a temporary residence, they at once began to entertain, and by the
fall, when they had the house now the William A. Slater home, on I
Street, selected, their hospitalities were well under way. The house
was done over, the ballroom addition put on, and a modernizing touch
put everywhere. Each winter, the Secretary and his wife gave weekly
receptions and balls, at which the smart folk in official and resident
society were present, and a supper of all the substantials and
delicacies, with champagne in plenty, was a regular feature. Dinners
for home and visiting grandees were just as numerous as cotillions
as large as the ballroom would permit, musicals, and every other
fashionable diversion.
“Mrs. Whitney’s Wednesdays at home were attended by hundreds. There
was always a well-spread refreshment table, a floral decoration, and
the presence of the beaux and belles of every year, and the visiting
public by the hundreds. The last hour of these afternoon gatherings
was regarded as the smartest rendezvous of the capital. Other daylight
parties at the Whitney home were just as frequent. Readings, musicals
by professional and amateur talent continued throughout each season.
“The Whitneys, besides, carried on a fashionable country life at
Grasslands, in the Tenleytown direction. The Country Club bought the
property later. Their weekend parties there during the Christmas
season and throughout the spring were most entertaining episodes. The
Secretary gave the use of the place during the summer at stated times
to the clerks of his department and their families for picnicking.
He distributed presents of turkeys at Christmas time to all of the
homekeeping employees of the Navy Department.
“A spring entertainment of note was the tea which followed the Easter
Monday christening at St. John’s Church of the baby daughter born to
the couple that year. Baby Dorothy Whitney of that day is now Mrs.
Willard Straight of New York.
“There were souvenirs for all the guests at the house--egg-shaped,
white moire boxes, prettily ornamented and bearing the date and the
baby’s name. The boxes were filled with tiny egg-shaped candies.
“Mrs. Whitney gave some Christmas tree parties in that I Street
ballroom which were a revelation to many of her visitors, who had
never seen anything so bewilderingly gorgeous. A tree reaching to the
ceiling would be shining with tinsel and glittering effects, and the
centre for one of the merriest gatherings of the West End. Sometimes
the party was for the children from St. John’s Orphanage, when
substantial gifts followed the other pleasures. Both husband and wife
took interest in local affairs and were generous in their charities.
Mrs. Whitney’s death followed shortly after her return to New York to
reside.”
With the Easter festivities came rumours of an approaching White
House wedding. Gossips had reported the betrothal of the President
and Miss Folsom, and whispers of a Paris trousseau and of the beauty
of the bride, “the little schoolgirl friend” whom Miss Cleveland
had introduced during a few days’ visit of the early winter. But no
official confirmation was forthcoming. The bachelor President, past the
age when men are apt to marry, like his predecessor had long been the
target for maids and widows matrimonially inclined. He had disposed of
his obligations to provide the White House mistress by installing his
sister as its chatelaine, but this arrangement was not wholly ideal.
Miss Cleveland was gracious and responded to every demand upon her, but
she had her own career urging its claims. She was a cultured, educated
teacher and author, who filled her difficult rôle with dignity and
intelligence. While in the White House she completed a book, “George
Eliot’s Poetry and Other Studies,” which, through the prestige of her
position, had enormous circulation--twelve editions--bringing her more
than $25,000. This offered a convincing argument for a return to her
own work, and rumour claimed that she was wholly delighted over the
prospect of a White House bridal, and especially pleased that it was
to be Miss Folsom, her brother’s ward and the daughter of his former
partner.
Prior to his accepting public office in the late sixties, Grover
Cleveland and Oscar Folsom had been law partners. He was a frequent
visitor at the Folsom home, when the little blue-eyed, brown-haired
daughter, Frances, was attending the select French kindergarten
conducted by Madame Bucher in Buffalo. The bachelor mayor made a pet
of her. She always climbed upon his knee when he came and called him
“Uncle Cleve.” In 1875, when she was eleven years old, her father,
Oscar Folsom, was killed in a carriage accident. It was later
discovered that he had made his partner the guardian of his child. Mrs.
Folsom, the mother, took the little girl to Medina, her own home town,
but the latter later returned to Buffalo to attend school. Finally,
she entered Wells College, where she was a student for three years.
Miss Folsom was a favourite among teachers and pupils; also an object
of envy to the girls who all noted the letters and flowers from the
Governor of New York. While she was in college, Cleveland was nominated
for the Presidency, and there was much buzzing of girlish tongues over
the regular letters from Washington.
The following June, when the class of ’85 held its commencement at
Wells, no young graduate attracted more attention and comment than
pretty Miss Folsom. This was due, in part, to the superb flowers which
came to her from the White House, over which there was much gossip and
speculation.
Before she sailed with her mother for a year of sightseeing in Europe,
the President had conveyed to her his desire to lose a ward and gain a
bride. To the intimate family group only their engagement was announced.
Miss Folsom, with a French trousseau, finally arrived in May. She was
met by Secretary Lamont, who checked all newspaper attempts to approach
her for information by whisking her and Mrs. Folsom aboard a steamer he
had waiting. He personally conducted them to the Gilsey House, where
they remained for a few days. President Cleveland, in the meantime,
concluded that his presence was necessary in New York on Memorial
Day. Thus their final plans were completed. He returned at once to
Washington, and early on the morning on the second of June, Miss Rose
Cleveland hurried to the station, returning shortly with the young lady
and her mother.
All day the President and his lovely fiancée addressed unusually
elaborate boxes of wedding cake, each carrying a card bearing their
combined autographs. The President had previously sent to a limited
number of guests the following simple form of invitation:
Executive Mansion,
May 29, 1886.
MY DEAR MR.----
I am to be married on Wednesday evening at seven o’clock at the White
House to Miss Folsom. It will be a very quiet affair and I will be
extremely gratified at your attendance on the occasion.
Yours sincerely,
GROVER CLEVELAND.
As this was the first and only time a President was married in the
White House, the wedding marked an epoch in the history of the mansion.
All day a regular army of florists bent their skill upon the
decoration, transforming the Blue Room into a fitting marriage bower.
Cartloads of blossoms, vines, ferns, and palms, with flags and shaded
lights, turned all of the state apartments into a fairyland of flowers,
to form a proper setting for the loveliest bride and the youngest
mistress the White House has ever known.
The Blue Room was especially lovely. The mellow light of the tapers in
the great candle stands, five feet high, a gift to President Jackson,
added to the beauty of the scene. The mantels were banked with flowers.
On one the date was outlined in pansies; on the other, the letters “F.
C.,” in white and pink roses.
Miss Folsom had originally planned that at her wedding, her
grandfather, of Folsomdale, whom she called “Papa John,” was to be
present and give her away. His death while she was crossing the
Atlantic upset these arrangements, so with the first strains of
Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March,” the President and his girlish bride came
down the stairs unattended even by her mother.
The bride’s gown was of absorbing interest. It was of rich corded ivory
satin trimmed with soft folds of India silk edged with orange buds and
blossoms. The same material was draped to form an overskirt, also edged
with the dainty blossoms, which were artistically arranged over the
entire costume. The four-yard train she managed as perfectly as if she
had always worn it. A coronet of the bridal flowers held the soft silk
tulle veil in place. More than five yards in length, it fell gracefully
over the entire train. Long gloves met the short sleeves. A diamond
necklace, the President’s gift, and her sapphire-and-diamond engagement
ring, were her only jewels.
The bridal couple took their places facing the Presbyterian minister,
the Reverend Byron Sunderland, who performed the marriage ceremony,
and the Reverend William Cleveland, brother of the bridegroom, who
concluded the ceremony with the blessing. Immediately from the navy
yard came the presidential salute of twenty-one guns, announcing the
news to the city, and all of the church bells rang a marriage chime.
An informal reception and collation followed, during which came many
messages of congratulation, among them one from Queen Victoria. The
decorations of the dining room were beautiful beyond description. The
great mirror purchased for the mansion by Dolly Madison and used by
every President since made a realistic sea for the full-rigged ship
_Hymen_, constructed of pansies and pink roses, with the national
colours on the mainmast and tiny white flags with “C. F.” on the other
masts.
The guests included the Cabinet, the relatives, and the close personal
friends. About eight o’clock, the bridal couple were ready for the
departure. The President had replaced the conventional evening clothes
with his customary black business suit, and “Mrs. Cleveland,” as
everyone delighted in addressing her, was fully as beautiful as in her
wedding gown. They left the rear door of the mansion in a shower of
rice, old shoes, and good wishes, and were driven to the Baltimore and
Ohio Station. Here a special train awaited to take them to Deer Park,
Maryland, where the President hoped to rest and do some fishing. They
had expected to spend a quiet time away from the curious public, but,
to their dismay, the following morning they found a pavilion had been
built overnight directly opposite their cottage and was thronged with
newspaper correspondents and photographers.
Hopes of seclusion vanished with the rush of summer visitors to Deer
Park and the arrival of a Church Convention. They went trout fishing,
Mrs. Cleveland being initiated in the proper methods of baiting her own
hook, and the President settled down on a comfortable log to enjoy his
favourite sport. But even the remote woods were invaded by the visitors
eager to get a glimpse of the distinguished pair. Mrs. Cleveland let
her husband fish alone the next day or so, and finally, on June 9th,
when more summer visitors arrived to enjoy the unusual pleasure of a
President of the United States for a neighbour, President and Mrs.
Cleveland decided that national business was urgent, and they returned
to Washington.
On their return from Deer Park, the President and Mrs. Cleveland gave
an evening reception to a large group. This was Mrs. Cleveland’s
introduction to official and social Washington as the First Lady of the
Land. In her wedding gown, she was especially lovely, and her natural
charm, poise, and sweet cordiality established her popularity. It was
conceded that, of all the many splendid things that President Cleveland
had done, there was none that could do so well for him as his marriage.
The prolific use of Mrs. Cleveland’s pictures by patent medicine,
perfume, candy, and underwear manufacturers, and firms of all kinds in
advertising their wares called forth a well-intentioned protest that
finally found expression in a bill being introduced in the House of
Representatives on March 6, 1888, which read in part:
“Be it enacted, etc. That any person or persons for themselves or
others or for corporations who shall publicly exhibit, use or employ
the likeness or representation of any female living or dead, who is
or was the wife, mother, daughter or sister of any citizen of the
United States without the consent in writing of the person whose
likeness is to be used shall be guilty of high misdemeanor and shall
upon indictment be fined not less than $500. nor more than $5,000. and
stand imprisoned until fine and costs are paid.”
Needless to add, the bill joined the great procession of the unpassed
measures. Mrs. Cleveland inaugurated Saturday afternoon receptions, so
that women who were employed might also have the opportunity to visit
the White House. At many of her receptions, people would go through the
line several times just to see her smile and again shake her hand.
Although Mrs. Cleveland’s time was so filled with demands that she had
little time for informal correspondence, the appeal of a child was
never ignored. At the opening of Lent, a Sunday-school superintendent
of Youngsville, Pa., gave each of his thirty-three pupils between seven
and ten years of age one penny with the instruction to invest it in
something that could be sold and reinvested so that at the end of Lent
each child would have an Easter offering to bring representing its own
industrious effort. A little girl of this group wrote to Mrs. Cleveland
enclosing in the letter a penwiper which she had made and which she
asked the First Lady to buy, telling the story.
Mrs. Cleveland sent the following reply:
Executive Mansion, Washington,
May 9, 1888.
MY DEAR LITTLE FRIEND:
I am very glad to buy your holder. You did not say how much it was so
I send you twenty-five cents and I trust it will help you a little. I
think it is very nice for little girls to know how to help and I trust
you will go on all your life doing what you can for others.
Sincerely your friend,
FRANCES F. CLEVELAND.
A competent housekeeper was installed, and thus the new mistress of the
mansion enjoyed her life there intensely. She was fond of dogs, and
the big mastiff, a gift to her, seemed to realize the great importance
and dignity of his position, as he majestically walked or stood by
her side. She was an enthusiastic amateur photographer. Mrs. Cleveland
loved the flowers. The conservatory was a constant delight to her. She
filled the private part of the house with song birds, mocking birds,
and canaries. Upon one occasion, the President, trying to concentrate
upon a message late in the night, had to call one of the White House
staff to remove a mocking bird that insisted upon singing. The story
related is to the effect that, after the bird had been placed in an
unlighted room, his song ceased, and the President, becoming anxious
lest his wife’s pet might take a chill, had it carefully placed out of
drafts.
Mrs. Cleveland, wholly natural, unaffected, and genuine, won the hearts
of the people literally by the minute. She liked people and everyday
things. She had a quality of cordiality in her greetings that was
convincingly sincere. One of the little bits of gossip of her first
reception shows the President’s pride and confidence in her ability
to carry her social responsibilities without his supporting presence.
Mrs. Folsom had invaded his office to urge that he go down to see
that everything started off well. Though exceedingly busy with papers
piled high, he accompanied her, and they slipped into the room without
being observed by the new First Lady. They stood watching her fully
five minutes as the long stream of people were being presented to her.
They heard her cheery, hearty greetings, saw the pleased, admiring
faces, and then the President--more the proud husband than the nation’s
chief--touched his mother-in-law on the arm and pridefully, though
laconically, remarked, “She’ll do! She’ll do!”
Upon the jubilee of the entrance of Pope Leo XIII into the priesthood,
President Cleveland sent felicitations and a handsomely bound copy
of the Constitution of the United States. The event, which occurred
January 21, 1888, had been brought to the President’s attention by
Cardinal Gibbons, and it was through that prelate that the gift was
sent. In transmitting it, Cardinal Gibbons wrote:
“It is a tribute paid to Your Holiness by the ruler of sixty million
of free men, a ruler elected by them, who feels deeply the supreme
responsibility of his exalted station, his dependence upon God’s
providence and who has had the wisdom and fortitude to discharge
faithfully and conscientiously all the important duties devolving upon
him.”
The Pope in responding said:
“As the head of the Church I owe my duty, love and solicitude to every
part of the Church, but toward America I bear especial love. The care
of your nation is great. Your government is free. Your future full of
hope. Your President commands my highest admiration.”
Between the disapproving clergy and the opposing politicians, who
classed the gift as a bid for votes, the incident caused wide
discussion.
For months stories were current of the abuse of Mrs. Cleveland by her
husband. Every little trip was construed into a permanent break, and
even Mrs. Folsom’s journeys were charged to trouble in the White House.
Both the President and his wife were aware of these tales but ignored
them, until, finally, Mrs. Cleveland felt constrained to reply to one
letter and permit publication of her statement.
Executive Mansion, Washington,
June 3, 1888.
MRS. NICODEMUS
DEAR MADAM:
I can only say in answer to your letter that every statement made by
the Rev. C. H. Pendleton in the interview which you send me is basely
false, and I pity the man of his calling who has been made the tool
to give circulation to such wicked heartless lies. I can wish the
women of our country no greater blessing than that their lives may
be as happy and their husbands as kind, attentive, considerate and
affectionate as mine.
Very truly,
FRANCES F. CLEVELAND.
Praise was showered upon the President’s highly popular wife, who never
made a mistake. Without a word, she settled problems that had stirred
tempests of discussion. The matter of wines was settled by her for
herself. She merely turned down her glass, declining thus to use them,
and the quiet dignity placed her action above argument. She made the
unsightly bustle unfashionable and set also an example of simple and
becoming hairdressing.
It fell to the President to announce to the nation the loss of another
ex-President--his immediate predecessor--Chester A. Arthur, who, after
his retirement, never recovered his health which had been undermined
and shattered by the anxieties of office. He died in his home within
two years after he left the White House.
This was the period when many noted authors, writers, and artists made
Washington their abiding place at least for a time. Among them, Frances
Hodgson Burnett, at the high tide of her popularity, had established
herself on Farragut Square. Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth, from the
sheltered seclusion of the porch of Prospect Cottage, was wielding
her prolific pen and producing a novel a year. Joaquin Miller had
built his unique cabin in the trees, a mecca for all kindred spirits
and for throngs of the curious. The learned Spofford and the gifted
Bancroft rode horseback in literary companionship. The spell of Mark
Twain and Walt Whitman was upon the city; and Grace Greenwood, Gail
Hamilton, Mary Clemmer Ames were listed among the shining lights of
the press so valiantly served by Townsend and Poore and dozens of
others. Mary S. Logan was already filling bookshelf space. Olivia
Edson Briggs, trenchant and satirical, had stamped upon the public
mind the quality of her Olivia letters, compendiums of news--gossip,
politics, and fashion. Mary S. Lockwood won favour reminiscing over
the city’s quaint, half-forgotten old homes, so replete with romances
and tragedies of national history. The literary élite, too numerous to
mention, left their stamp upon the life of the flourishing, shifting
population of the most unique city in the world, where no rank, power,
or residence is permanent.
President Cleveland’s first administration was distinguished by his
firm stand for Civil Service Reform. The first movement toward reform
had begun in 1853, though nothing was done. Presidents Grant and Hayes
also had taken up the matter, but it remained for President Cleveland
to take a stand that proved its value. A new Cabinet portfolio was
created--the Department of Agriculture. Norman J. Colman, then serving
as Commissioner of the Bureau of Agriculture, being made its Secretary.
Congress created the first of the governmental commissions through
the Interstate Commerce measure. This was the first step toward
standardizing rates on railroads and became the basis for a long
struggle before railroads became regarded and treated as monopolies
needing regulation for the best interest of the public. The creation
of the Interstate Commerce Commission was a radical step that was not
understood, and drew to itself and its promoters great criticism.
In fact, criticism of President Cleveland’s policies was general. He
was blamed more or less for the conditions that led to the riot in
Chicago in Haymarket Square, which was instigated and engineered by
disgruntled foreigners. Bombs were thrown. Seven policemen were killed
and sixty wounded, and, while the leading rioters were executed, the
people of the country were deeply disturbed.
The year 1886 has often been called the year of strikes. Beginning with
the opening of the year in New York, among the street-car conductors,
they spread their disruption pretty well over the country.
This administration witnessed also the greatest advance in development
and power of the great companies or corporations, as well as that of
the labour organizations. A number of important laws were enacted.
Among them, one provided definite rules for counting the electoral
vote, so as to avoid all doubts and disputes over the election of the
President. Another had for its object a uniform railroad rate for
passengers and also for freight. Another prohibited the importation of
Chinese labour.
President Cleveland, in placing his interpretation of principle above
partisanship, had made a remarkable record for achievement, but he also
had aroused great antagonism, and the Republican party capitalized
upon the opposition to his methods by wresting the power away from the
Democrats and electing a Republican as his successor.
CHAPTER VIII
ADMINISTRATION OF BENJAMIN HARRISON
_March 4, 1889, to March 4, 1893_
March 4, 1889, found Washington City dismal and bedraggled. Her gay
decorations were soggy and discoloured, and under the steady downpour
of a heavy rainstorm, driven at times by a high chill wind, were either
drooping or whipping about, scattering spurts of icy water. All of the
elaborate features of the display planned so energetically to exceed
those of the Cleveland inauguration ceremonies were ruined or had to
be abandoned. Only one idea prevailed--to do what was necessary and
escape to shelter from the elements. An inauguration crowd, however,
is not easily discouraged. Long experience with March weather at the
Capital City has taught the merchant and the tourist to prepare for
the unexpected. Rubbers, raincoats, and umbrellas were in such demand
that the stock was literally sold out early in the morning, for the
great assemblage of visitors turned out, in spite of the pouring rain,
to do honour to the first Chief Magistrate who had the distinction
of succeeding to the office once held by his grandfather. Benjamin
Harrison, grandson of “Old Tippecanoe,” the ninth in the line of
the nation’s Presidents, had been elected the people’s choice as
twenty-third President.
President Cleveland and President-elect Harrison concluded to brave
the weather, dressed accordingly, and rode in an open carriage to
the Capitol. In the struggle with the wind-driven rain, one of the
umbrellas became disabled and another was borrowed from Secretary
Fairchild of the Cabinet, the retiring President calling out
reassuringly, “We are honest folk, we will return it.” The presidential
party was escorted by the Seventieth Indiana Regiment, which had been
recruited and commanded by Colonel Harrison in the Civil War.
The inauguration ceremonies were not exactly on schedule time at the
Capitol, and as the hands of the clock were about to indicate the
noon hour, Captain Bassett, nicknamed by the pages “Old Father Time,”
appeared with his long pole and pushed the hands back ten minutes.
After another wait, he again set them back, this time six minutes. Two
minutes after, President Cleveland entered with the President-elect.
Vice President Morton was sworn in, and the regular procedure followed
on the East Portico, where the oath was administered by Chief Justice
Fuller. So much had been said of President Harrison’s oratory and
clever speech-making that the concourse about the Capitol was
packed with people so anxious to hear his words as to disregard the
discomforts of the long wait in the rain. To a sea of black umbrellas,
President Harrison delivered a twenty-minute address.
The return trip to the White House was uneventful. The street crowd,
enthusiastic and faithful, drenched and bedraggled, sustained their
interest until the last marchers had passed.
President and Mrs. Cleveland had arranged the luncheon for their
successors, immediately after which came the review of the parade of
men that again occupied the time until dark in passing the President’s
stand.
Once more the Pension Office was used for the inaugural ball, where
twelve thousand people gave the new presidential party a royal welcome.
A notable feature in the decoration was a huge ship of state made
entirely of flowers, suspended from the ceiling and so constructed as
to shower the presidential party with blossoms as they entered. This
floral piece was thirty feet long and was the largest design ever made
of natural flowers.
Mrs. Harrison’s beautiful pearl brocade gown with its elaborate gold
embroidery and long train was much admired. It was of especial interest
to the women of the land, as there had been such an effort put forth to
induce her to wear décolleté. She emphatically refused, and her ball
gown, open a little at the throat, filled in with old point lace, with
its elbow sleeves, was sufficiently rich and elegant to please the most
critical.
So much had been said to her on the question of her dress for this
event that, in making her decision against the low-cut and sleeveless
gown, she said, in an interview on February 22, 1889:
“If there is one thing above another I detest and have detested all my
days it is being made a circus of, and that is what has come to me in
my old age, as it were. I’ve been a show, the whole family’s been a
show since Mr. Harrison was elected. All last fall I sat in my sewing
room and watched the procession of feet pass across the parlour floor
wearing their path into the nap, and disappear like the trail of a
caravan into the General’s room beyond. Day by day, I watched the path
grow wider and deeper, and at last the caravan spread out and engulfed
us all. But I don’t propose to be made a circus of forever! If there’s
any privacy to be found in the White House, I propose to find it and
preserve it.”
[Illustration: _Photo. by Brady_
MRS. BENJAMIN HARRISON
Showing her pin of the Daughters of the American Revolution, of which
she was the first President General]
With the inauguration festivities over, President Harrison gave first
attention to those who were to be his immediate advisers in his
administration.
He was fortunate in his running mate, Levi P. Morton, a Vermonter by
birth, who had risen from a position as country store clerk to that
of partner in a Boston firm. Later, he founded banks in New York and
abroad in England, heading Morton Bros. and Company, later the Morton
Trust Company. He served with credit in Congress during 1878 and 1880,
and from 1885 to 1887 rendered valued service as Minister to France.
His influence and prestige counted for much.
President Harrison chose the following as his official family: James
G. Blaine, of Maine, was named Secretary of State, the same post he
had filled in Garfield’s Cabinet. Mr. William Windom, of Minnesota,
Secretary of the Treasury, was another Garfield cabineteer. Redfield
Proctor, of Vermont, as Secretary of War; William H. H. Miller, of
Indiana, for Attorney General; John Wanamaker, of Pennsylvania, for
Postmaster General; Benjamin F. Tracy, of New York, for Secretary of
the Navy; John W. Noble, of Missouri, for Secretary of the Interior;
and Jeremiah M. Rusk, of Wisconsin, for Secretary of Agriculture, gave
general satisfaction.
Although the President was reserved to a marked degree--so much so that
he was accused of haughtiness--those who knew him in his home life, or
as a soldier or a legal adviser, saw another side to his nature. He
was a man who had always had before him the example of distinguished
forbears, that served to inspire him with the ambition to achieve and
curbed any tendency toward letting his life run along with the tide of
least resistance.
He was born at North Bend, Ohio, in the old Harrison family homestead,
established and defended by his pioneer grandfather. His boyhood was
like that of the average farm boy, with its round of chores and farm
pleasures.
The traditions of the Harrison family were of a high order. They
demanded education for their children, and so, on the farm, two miles
from the house, a small school was early built for the boys of the
vicinity. No regular district schools were within a distance possible
for their attendance. A log cabin with a dirt floor, rude benches
without backs, slabs and blocks of wood for desks, walls sans paint or
plaster--this little temple of learning was in its severe primitive
rudeness a real school.
In church matters, too, young Harrison had a thorough training in
the Presbyterian faith of his fathers. His father considered it his
parental duty and responsibility to supervise his children’s religious
training.
Sundays frequently brought visits and dinners with his grandmother, and
from babyhood he heard tales of his grandfather President and, what he
loved most, the tales of the wild, untamed wilderness and brilliant
military achievements.
Harrison was graduated from the Miami University fourth in a group of
sixteen on June 24, 1852.
Greek legends and mathematical problems did not fill his entire time.
With the habit of youth, he had fallen deeply and seriously in love
with his first sweetheart, the charming dark-eyed daughter, Caroline
Lavinia, of Dr. John Scott, of a near-by academy. To the amazement and
the chagrin of a host of young men students, she became engaged to
eighteen-year-old Ben Harrison. Some of his mates were astonished and
wondered and commented on the queer ways of love and girls. They asked
each other, how could she--Caroline Scott--fall in love with a chap
small and insignificant in appearance, plain of feature and of dress,
afflicted with unusual diffidence and reserve, whose only claim to
pretensions of any sort was the possession of an ancestor who had been
a signer of the Declaration of Independence and another a President
of the United States. True, Ben Harrison also claimed a descent from
John Rolfe and Pocahontas. But Miss Caroline was content. The two
were married in the autumn of 1853 and started out in an Indianapolis
boarding house with a total cash asset of $800, a sum which the young
man had borrowed on a lot which he had inherited from a relative.
Harrison studied law and was admitted to the bar. Soon clients flocked
to him. There was nothing aggressive or dominant about him; but the
shyness or reserve, which at first was diffidence, wore away, leaving
a quiet assurance that bespoke power of mind. In 1860, he began his
political career as a candidate before the Republican Convention for
the position of Reporter of the Supreme Court, to which he was elected
by a substantial majority.
Two children soon came to more than fill Mrs. Harrison’s time. So the
young couple found themselves a tiny cottage, where Mrs. Harrison did
all of her housework, aided before breakfast, at midday, and at night
by her husband. He chopped wood, filled the wood box and water buckets,
and did all of the outside home chores.
This was their situation when the guns of Sumter sounded the tocsin
of war and sent the blood of revolutionary ancestry bounding in Ben
Harrison’s veins. However, he had a family dependent on him, and he
gave the matter serious consideration. Meanwhile, he made a call upon
Governor O. Morton, of Indiana, who settled for him the paramount
matter of his place in the war. Mr. Harrison had said to his friend:
“If I can be of service, I’ll go.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the
Governor replied, “Raise a regiment in this congressional district, and
you can command it!”
Harrison regarded this as a command as well as a promise. He went
straight home, found Mrs. Harrison in full sympathy with his anxiety
to do his part for his country. The Stars and Stripes were hung from
the humble law office window, and Lawyer Harrison started recruiting,
quickly assembling Company A, the nucleus foundation for the Seventieth
Indiana Volunteers. Soon a regiment was assembled, for the Harrison
name held a magic sound.
Thrilling stories from the Seventieth Indiana Volunteer Infantry in one
of the most severe of the battles--that at Resaca, Ga., May 14 and 15,
1864--told that “Little Ben” fought like a demon in the hand-to-hand
encounter. More stories of gallantry came from New Hope Church,
Golgotha Church, and Kenesaw Mountain. But the crowning exploit that
sent Harrison’s name ringing over the country as a true son of a race
of military chieftains was that of Peach Tree Creek.
The victory of Peach Tree Creek has been accredited to Harrison’s
initiative and fearless leadership. Major General Joseph Hooker rode
up to him after the battle and exclaimed, “By God, I’ll make you a
Brigadier General for this fight.” The General wrote a letter to
the Secretary of War asking for Colonel Harrison’s promotion, and
the promised commission came as Brevet Brigadier General, signed by
Abraham Lincoln, and countersigned by Secretary of War Stanton in
acknowledgment of “ability and manifest energy and gallantry in command
of brigade.”
At the end of the war, he returned to Indianapolis, resumed his office
of Supreme Court Reporter, and devoted his energies to building up his
practice.
He took the stump through Indiana in behalf of General Grant in 1868,
and repeated this service in the interest of the hero of Appomattox
again in 1872.
General Harrison’s activity in the Garfield campaign brought him
the offer of a Cabinet portfolio, which he declined, preferring to
serve his term as Senator. While in the Senate, he opposed President
Cleveland’s policy of pension vetoes.
Although the President sought a renomination and hoped his policies
would receive the endorsement of the American public in the fall
elections, it was evident that the Republicans would make a determined
effort to retrieve their power. While many of the Democratic leaders
were disgruntled over President Cleveland’s methods and practices,
there was no opposition to him as the standard bearer for the
Democratic party for another term, and the convention was devoid of
excitement as it renominated him by acclamation, with Allen G. Thurman
for Vice President.
For a time, it seemed that James G. Blaine’s political star was again
in the ascendancy, but the “Plumed Knight” was in Europe and was not
receptive. He had tried and failed so continuously for sixteen years
that he was convinced the Presidency was not for him, and refused
to permit his name to be used in the Republican Convention, though
besought by cables from hosts of admiring friends and supporters.
Senator Harrison’s steadily growing popularity prophesied his
selection, and he received the nomination on the eighth ballot. It was
made unanimous, and Levi P. Morton, of New York, was nominated for Vice
President.
The tariff was the vital issue of the hour which drew the leaders of
both parties into the arena of debate during the campaign, and upon it
were hurled volumes of argument and oratory from platform and stump.
Here was where the lucid exposition of the great lawyer made a profound
impression through his clear speeches and charm of expression. The
campaign was lively; banners, processions, and songs added zest to the
rallies and political meetings.
The long score of complaints against President Cleveland due to his
independence of party direction had antagonized Tammany Hall. His stand
on the tariff robbed him of the strong support of the big manufacturing
industries. His wholesale vetoes of pensions had antagonized the
soldier vote. These sins, added to the fact that the incoming Governor
of New York, David B. Hill, though a Democrat, was not an adherent
of the Cleveland policy, contributed to his defeat. With New York’s
powerful and decisive vote thrown to the Republican candidate, Benjamin
Harrison, President Cleveland was eclipsed.
One of the important assets of Harrison’s administration was the new
mistress of the White House, whose cordial friendliness and natural
graciousness offset her husband’s formality.
Mrs. Harrison brought to her position as chatelaine of the mansion a
splendid equipment for her important duties, through a lifetime of
activity in social, philanthropic, and patriotic service. Always a
church worker, she had the ready sympathy and understanding of welfare
matters that were of the greatest help in meeting the many demands made
upon her in Washington. Her charity and constant aid to people in every
sort of difficulty were extended so quietly that little or nothing was
known of it during her lifetime.
Both she and the President were deeply religious, and the Sabbath
observance was punctiliously followed, even to the point of the
President’s securing additional clerical help for necessary Sunday
correspondence, so that the regular staff might have the day for rest
after the week of work. Morning prayers were continued, regardless of
the change of residence. During Harrison’s senatorship, he and Mrs.
Harrison had established their religious attendance in the Church of
the Covenant, where they continued to worship during their years at the
White House.
President Harrison was possessed of an aristocratic manner and great
natural dignity. To this he added a high regard for his office. He
regulated his daily life and all public appearances while Chief
Executive to command the utmost respect from the public. In this,
he was much like General Grant, who demanded little for himself but
for the President of the United States all possible honour. It is
claimed that he carried this attitude into his churchgoing, making his
arrival just at the opening moment of the service, and entering from a
side door near the pulpit. This stately progress to his pew made the
congregation aware that the President of the United States and the
First Lady were attendants at worship.
With their installation in the Executive Mansion, the Harrisons were
naturally accompanied by their son and daughter and grandchildren. They
made a lively group to brighten up the big house. The son, Russell
Harrison, and his wife, had one little daughter, while the son-in-law
and daughter, Mr. and Mrs. James Robert McKee, brought with them the
already famous youngster “Baby McKee,” two years old, properly known
as Benjamin Harrison McKee, and his infant sister, Mary Dodge, of less
than a year. This little lady was christened in the Blue Room by her
venerable grandfather, the Rev. Dr. Scott, with water from the River
Jordan.
Mrs. Harrison was horrified when she discovered the basement floor of
the White House to be overrun with rats, and when, a few days later,
the President observed a large gray rodent helping himself from the
side table in the family dining room, a campaign of extermination was
arranged. Every kind of trap and poison having been tried and ignored
by the pests, a professional rat catcher, with his dog and ferrets, was
installed. He discovered the grounds about the house to be honeycombed
with rat holes, and after several hundred had been killed by the
ferrets, Mrs. Harrison decided to improve the conditions of the entire
basement. She had the floors taken up and was amazed to find that the
kitchen floor contained a number of layers, new boards having been laid
upon the old whenever repairs had been made in the past. In accordance
with her wish, these were all torn out and the entire basement covered
with concrete, this being covered, in the kitchen, with tiling. All of
the walls of these lower rooms were tiled shoulder high. The repairs
changed the dark, unattractive, and unsanitary rooms into wholesome,
cheery places, easy to keep clean.
The condition of the kitchen and the vast improvement brought about
by the repairs there furnished Mrs. Harrison with further incentive
to put the entire mansion through an overhauling. With her daughter
and daughter-in-law to aid her, this trio of accomplished housekeepers
proceeded to supervise the renovation and refurnishing from the attic
to the cellar, and as this work progressed, Mrs. Harrison began to have
visions of what the President’s house should be and how it might be
vastly improved by remodelling. The more she studied the possibilities
of rearrangement of the offices, the more convinced she became that a
practical solution was feasible. To enlarge the living quarters, to
give the family more privacy and the Executive more space for the daily
work of his staff was her dream. The repairs she had made had cost
$50,000 and there was no possibility of extensive remodelling, much
as she would have liked it done. But she consulted the Commissioner
of Public Buildings and Grounds, various architects, discussed
the advantages of her proposed changes with many of the members of
Congress, and planted the seeds of her very fine and thoroughly
practical plan, which was carried out later but not until ten years
after her death.
Soon after Mrs. Harrison’s arrival she engaged for the culinary
department of the White House at a wage of fifty dollars per month
a Frenchwoman formerly in the service of Lord Sackville West of the
British Embassy. This plan was for the summer months.
The climate of the Capital City or the atmosphere of the then draughty
mansion failed to agree with the Harrison grandchildren, as they all
became ill, to the great distress of the President and his wife. Early
in the summer, the physician ordered them to be taken to the seashore.
Owing to this sudden change in the family living arrangements, Mrs.
Harrison, to economize, thought she would dispense with her French
cook of vast experience and high wage, and, during the absence of the
bulk of the family, avail herself of the service of a coloured woman
at fifteen dollars monthly. She forthwith discharged her cook, only to
discover that, although First Lady of the Land, mistress of the White
House, and leader of millions of women, there were limitations to her
authority when she tried to dismiss her cook. The cook refused to be
discharged, preferring to remain the genius of the White House kitchen;
she most emphatically refused to leave unless paid for the entire
season. She considered her dismissal cause for a suit for damages,
and before the matter was adjusted satisfactorily to both sides, a
lawyer had been engaged, the matter put before Marquis de Chambrun,
law representative of the French Government in the city, and the usual
attorney’s letter for settlement sent to the President.
In planning her social programme, the First Lady had the efficient aid
of both Mrs. McKee and Mrs. Russell Harrison. Each made frequent and
lengthy visits to the White House, and each assumed the rôle of hostess
occasionally to her own large circle of friends in and near Washington.
The state dinners, receptions, luncheons, balls, and parties were
charming and delighted the society that so loved the gaiety of Mrs.
Cleveland’s youthful régime.
The Harrison family were highly complimented upon their handsome horses
and carriages. For his use on March 4th, General Harrison purchased an
elegant landau for which he paid $2,000. This the family called the
“state coach.” For Mrs. Harrison’s use he selected a family carriage at
$1,000. Six spirited horses, cherry bay in colour, all sixteen hands
and a half, took possession of the stables. While President Harrison
was the most consistent pedestrian in White House history, he also
loved to handle the reins and took the greatest pride in his equipages.
Among the many budding projects to which Mrs. Harrison gave the support
and encouragement of her active interest and the prestige of her name
was that of the newly formed national society of the Daughters of
the American Revolution, which now numbers more than a quarter of a
million women, and which is the most potent factor in the preservation
of American patriotic traditions and the greatest existing force in
directing the education of the children of the country toward an
understanding and an appreciation of the principles and standards
formulated by their forefathers.
Mrs. Harrison accepted the leadership of this patriotic society,
serving as its first National President General. Her influence went
far toward giving its growth the needed impetus. Patriotic societies
were not plentiful, and in the East, no organization of descendants of
the Revolution save that of the Sons of the Revolution existed. This
association, meeting in Louisville, Ky., in April of 1890, cast a vote
excluding women from membership, although the original organization
formed in California in 1875 had both men and women on its roster.
When the news of this action was broadcast through the press, Miss
Eugenia Washington, great-grandniece of General George Washington,
decided that it was time for women to form a society of Daughters.
With the aid of Mrs. Ellen Hardin Walworth and Miss Mary Desha, of
Washington, D. C., the Daughters of the American Revolution was founded
in August of 1890. Meanwhile, Mrs. Mary Lockwood, member of the
National Press Association, aroused to protest against the action of
the “Sons” in Louisville, published in the Washington _Post_ the story
of a Revolutionary War heroine, Hannah Arnett, as an illustration of
the fact that women were worthy of honour for their service in that
conflict as well as men. Mrs. Lockwood, not being in the city at the
time of the meeting, could not be a founder but was given an especial
honour for her service through the press.
After a time, when Mrs. Harrison’s health began to decline, Mrs. McKee
made the White House her home and relieved her mother of the greater
part of the routine, particularly that of correspondence.
But it is not so much for the pleasant and important official functions
that the twenty-sixth administration is remembered as for the picture
of delightful home life presented by these doting grandparents and
their little folks.
Their first grandson, Benjamin Harrison McKee, was the autocrat of the
White House, around whose daily performances and schedule of living
volumes were written, and this publicity was shared by his baby sister
and his little cousin Marthena Harrison. From the time young Benjamin
smiled and cooed at the crowds at the Harrison home in Indianapolis,
where he got the name of “Baby McKee,” until the little Cleveland
lassie usurped his Washington residence, he held the centre of the
stage. Idolized by his grandparents, the chum and special playfellow of
the dignified President, he became a national figure as much discussed
as his elders.
With all of the President’s dignity and conventionality, he did not
hesitate an instant in giving chase in all of the inappropriateness of
frock coat and silk hat when, one day, the goat team elected to run
away with Baby McKee, dashing directly out of the grounds and into the
street. However, young Benjamin sat tight, and the anxious grandfather
reached him in time to prevent a real catastrophe.
The critics who accused Benjamin Harrison of being “an iceberg” should
have seen him romping with the children of the family.
The presence of these little folk was the incentive for many delightful
children’s parties, particularly during the holidays, and Colonel W.
H. Crook, so long attached to the White House, has claimed that the
first White House Christmas tree in his memory was the very large,
gorgeous one put up in the library the first Christmas of the Harrison
administration, in the trimming of which the President, all of the
family, and the staff assisted. It carried toys not only for the
children of the family but for everyone attached to the White House and
their families. Around it, too, were piled the hundreds of gifts and
remembrances sent by friends and presidential admirers.
Mrs. Harrison’s social plans had many unhappy interruptions through
the unusual number of deaths in their immediate and official family.
The first of these, about at the beginning of their administration, was
that of Mrs. Lord, Mrs. Harrison’s sister, a resident of Washington and
an employee of one of the government departments, who had also kept
house for their aged father, Dr. John Scott. Mrs. Harrison was untiring
in her devotion to her sister, and after Mrs. Lord’s death, took her
father and Mrs. Mary Lord Dimmick, Mrs. Lord’s widowed daughter, to the
White House to live.
Early in 1890, on February 2d, society was grieved over the death of
Secretary Blaine’s daughter, Mrs. Coppinger, and on the following day
the city was inexpressibly shocked by the terrible bereavement and
tragedy that came to Secretary Tracy in the fire that destroyed his
home on Farragut Square, causing the deaths of Mrs. Tracy, a daughter,
and a maid. Mrs. Tracy, in her terror of suffering, had jumped from the
window. The President was among the first to arrive on the scene and
at once took the Secretary and the other daughter, Mrs. Wilmerding, to
the White House, where Mrs. Harrison did her utmost to comfort them.
Later in the day, the bodies of the Secretary’s wife and daughter were
brought to the White House and the coffins placed side by side in
the East Room. The tragedy to this gracious matron and charming girl
affected his Cabinet group as an individual and personal affliction.
Those who attended the funeral in the East Room will never forget the
pathos of that service, so poignant in its atmosphere of sorrow that
even one of the little boy choristers was overcome and carried fainting
from the room.
“Baby McKee’s” fourth birthday was an occasion for a great family
celebration. The President and little Benjamin led the way to the small
dining room, where the round table was surrounded by fifteen high
chairs. The table was gaily decked with flags and flowers to please
childish eyes, and a luncheon was served consisting of bouillon, beaten
biscuits cut in the form of chickens with their wings outstretched, ice
cream, and cakes. Mothers and nurses attended and enjoyed the Virginia
reel which concluded the affair.
President Harrison had long been of the opinion that he himself would
gain much in the way of understanding his manifold problems and that
the people of the land would get a clearer grasp of his efforts in
administering his high office if he were to make a tour of the country.
Accordingly, he made his arrangements for a swing around a circle
that embraced practically one half of the United States. About twenty
persons outside of his immediate family accompanied him. Those most
important in the group were Mrs. Harrison, Mrs. McKee, Mr. and Mrs.
Russell Harrison, and Mrs. Dimmick of the family, and Secretary Rusk
and Postmaster General Wanamaker of the Cabinet.
They left on the night of April 14th and stopped at Roanoke, where the
President made his first speech. From there the itinerary took them
through Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and
California. In California, Harrison delivered more than forty speeches.
He then proceeded to Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, Colorado,
Nebraska, Kansas, Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, Ohio, Indiana, Maryland,
and Pennsylvania. Everywhere, at his arrival, there was an enthusiastic
ovation. In New Mexico, at one stop he was presented with a beautiful
case of silver made from ore mined in the vicinity.
On this trip, the President made one hundred and forty-two speeches,
most of them extemporaneous, built upon the issues of the hour and
around the problems of particular interest to the various sections of
the country through which he was travelling.
One of the prettiest Christmas incidents in which a President ever
figured occurred during this trip and shows that Harrison’s love of
children was not reserved entirely for his own grandchildren. While
passing through Richmond, Ind., the President was surprised in his car
by the visit of a tiny girl of four who, when he took her upon his
knee, threw her arms about his neck, kissed him impulsively, and thrust
a new penknife into his hand.
When the next holiday time came near, the President sent a letter and
a beautiful doll, both to be delivered to that same little girl on
Christmas Eve. And here is a copy of that letter:
MY DEAR LITTLE FRIEND:
When you came into my car at Richmond I did not see you until you
stood at my feet looking up to me so sweetly that I did not know but
a little fairy had come in through the window. But when I picked you
up and you gave me a kiss, then I knew it was a real little girl. The
pretty knife you handed me I will keep till you are a big girl, and
when I go back to Indiana to live you must come to see me and I will
show you that I have not forgotten you. The little doll which you will
find in the box with this letter is for you, and I hope you will think
it is pretty. If the doll could talk she would tell you how much I
love to be loved by the little children.
Affectionately yours,
BENJAMIN HARRISON.
The Tracy tragedies, coming so close upon the other griefs, had given
Mrs. Harrison’s already depleted strength a severe shock, from which
she really never entirely rallied. This exhaustion, or fatigue,
increased, but Mrs. Harrison would not admit being ill--“only tired.”
She loved the conservatory. She had always been interested in china
painting and had taken lessons in art. She spent much time there, after
she began to fail, in painting orchids, the odd blossoms that appeared
for the first time during her régime, and for the first time on a White
House table at a diplomatic dinner. She had also started collecting
relics of her predecessors. In her plans for enlarging and improving
the White House, she had arranged for their display.
In the spring of 1892, every member of the family save the President
contracted grippe. Mrs. Harrison supervised the nursing of all, even
doing a great deal of the actual work herself. Finally, she also
succumbed to the malady, which left her with a serious lung trouble,
and while she was pleased and proud of her husband’s renomination, she
could not participate personally in the rejoicings and celebrations.
She continued to fail, and early in the summer her family took her to
Loon Lake, in the Adirondacks, in the hope that the change of air would
create an improvement. This was a vain hope, and in October she was
brought back to the White House in the last stages of the disease. Too
worn and exhausted to rally, she never left her room after her return.
She passed her thirty-ninth marriage anniversary with her husband
at the White House five days before she died, on October 24, 1892,
after eight months of suffering. She did not live to know that he was
defeated by Cleveland, whom he had succeeded. Her death occurred in the
same room that had been occupied by President Garfield after he had
been wounded by Guiteau.
The funeral was exceedingly simple and was attended only by the family,
the Cabinet, the Supreme Court, and a little group of personal friends.
Orchids, her favourite flower, and roses completely covered the casket.
After the services, her body was taken to Indianapolis for interment.
About a month later, Dr. John W. H. Scott, Mrs. Harrison’s father, died
at the age of ninety-three. His funeral service was held in the East
Room. Although of such advanced years, he had discharged the duties of
his calling efficiently until President Harrison’s inauguration.
The closing days of President Harrison’s régime were dreary. In the
death of his wife, he had lost his lifetime companion, whose sweet
graciousness and womanly sympathy did so much to offset his own seeming
coldness and austerity. Many of Mrs. Harrison’s admirers believed that,
had she lived and kept her health, he would not have failed of a second
term.
The illness and death of their beloved President General who had won
the love of the membership was a personal sorrow to her associates in
the Daughters of the Revolution. At the Congress of 1894, two years
after her death, the beautiful portrait of her by Daniel Huntington
was unveiled and then presented to the White House as the gift of the
society to the nation.
In President Harrison’s administration there was a complete reversal
of policy on the tariff and pensions. A liberal pension policy was
adopted--so liberal that it was charged that the Commissioner of
Pensions hunted up groups to whom pensions might be extended. Finally,
an act was passed giving a pension to every soldier who had served
ninety days and was not able to be self-supporting, regardless of
whether or not the disability was due to his war service. Thus,
many thousands of pensioners were added to the roster in Harrison’s
four years, with the enormous increase of annual expenditure from
$89,000,000 to $159,000,000.
Much important legislation was enacted. Great was the satisfaction over
the admission of six new states, two of which, by the way, extended the
ballot to women and equal business rights. The states were Montana,
North Dakota, Idaho, South Dakota, Washington, and Wyoming.
The opening of Oklahoma marked another epoch in national progress.
The tract which had formed part of the Indian Territory was purchased
from the Indians in 1889. In the spring of that year, fully fifty
thousand people were eagerly waiting the word to enter and take up
lands in that region. President Harrison’s proclamation declared that
no one who entered and occupied lands in Oklahoma before twelve noon of
April 22, 1889, should be permitted to acquire rights to lands there
by such entrance and occupation. Hence, on the stroke of twelve, the
bugle announced that Oklahoma was open, and a vast multitude rushed
across the line, each endeavouring to get in ahead of the rest. Almost
overnight, towns of rough board shanties and tents sprang up like
mushrooms. Oklahoma City and Guthrie started thus; but five months
later, Guthrie was a real town, with several newspapers, banks, and a
street railway under construction. Such was the spirit of progress!
To the delight of the navy enthusiasts, the ninety old wooden ships
were being steadily replaced by battleships and steamers of steel
construction.
Most important to the business interests of the country were the three
acts passed by Congress in 1890: the new Pension Act, that added
400,000 names to the pension roster, the expense of which has already
been given; the McKinley Tariff, the principal object of which was the
protection of American products and American industries against foreign
competition; and the Sherman Silver Purchase and Coinage Act, which
provided that each month the treasurer should buy, if it were offered,
4,500,000 ounces, or more than 140 tons, of silver and coin it into
dollars.
The centennial census showed the population of the United States to
be more than 62,000,000, a gain over the first census of 1790 of
50,000,000 people. A centennial celebration was held by the Supreme
Court, and another by the Patent Office. This latter was especially
interesting because of the history it disclosed. The first patents
issued were for potash and soap in 1790. During the hundred years
that followed, 450,000 patents had been applied for and secured.
Inventors had endeavoured to enter every field of human skill, with the
result that America’s labour-saving machines led the world. A notable
and everyday utilitarian invention that has given satisfaction in
transportation to countless hundreds is the safety bicycle, which “Baby
McKee” learned to ride with his mother.
It was during this administration that national politics was invaded by
the Farmers’ Alliance. The immigration laws also came in for amendment.
An incident worthy of note was the great Carnegie Steel Strike at
Homestead, Pa., to which the governor finally had to send troops.
President Harrison could not fail to feel a satisfaction in the record
of accomplishment of his four years, and when he prepared to turn the
White House over to his successor, he resolved to go back to his law
practice, knowing that his future was established. He need accept only
such clients as appealed to him and would be able to meet his fees.
He went back to the lawyer’s office in Indianapolis where he had first
practised his profession. He accepted his defeat for reëlection in
1892 as final, and thereupon retired permanently from party politics.
His only reëntrance into national affairs was when he became a member
of the board of arbitration for Venezuela, which settled the historic
boundary dispute between Great Britain and the South American Republic.
After his presidential term General Harrison became less reserved. He
used to spend his vacations out of doors, and was most devoted to his
grandchildren, the McKees. He became a familiar figure at Cape May,
where the beach crowds often saw him romping in the surf with them.
On April 6, 1896, he married Mrs. Mary Scott Lord Dimmick, the niece
of his first wife, who had acted as Mrs. Harrison’s secretary during
her stay in the White House. The wedding took place at St. Thomas’s
Protestant Episcopal Church on Fifth Avenue, New York City, in the
presence of a small group of friends. Neither General Harrison’s son
nor his daughter was present. He took his bride to his Indiana home,
where a baby girl was born to them the following year. This marriage
estranged his family, as it was not at all pleasing to the children of
his first wife.
He died of acute pneumonia in Indianapolis, March 13, 1901, with his
immediate family and a few old friends around him. Although en route to
his side, neither Russell Harrison nor Mrs. McKee was with him at his
death.
Benjamin Harrison’s rêgime was one of dignity. It reflected honour upon
himself and the nation.
CHAPTER IX
SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF GROVER CLEVELAND
_March 4, 1893, to March 4, 1897_
Cleveland luck brought Grover Cleveland back to the White House in
March, 1893, to succeed the man who had defeated him at the end of
his first term, and whom he had in turn defeated also from succeeding
himself.
The “luck” did not extend its benign influence to propitiate the
elements, since, instead of the ideal day of sunshine and soft spring
zephyrs of his first term, he had to combat the discomforts of a cold,
wet snow with its chill and slush.
Fortune had been so liberal with her favours that he could discount
her fickleness in that respect, however, even though Democratic hosts
had assembled to celebrate their return to power with a brilliant and
gorgeous display.
Mr. and Mrs. Cleveland, with the addition of little Ruth Cleveland,
their seventeen-months-old daughter, reached Washington on March 3d,
going direct to the Arlington, where Mr. Lamont had engaged a suite for
them, and where old friends had gathered to greet them. They, like Vice
President-elect and Mrs. Stevenson, held a continuous reception.
Promptly at eleven fifty-five the President and the President-elect
departed for the Capitol, unaccompanied, in the only open carriage in
the pretentious procession that meant the eclipse of one leader and
the installation of the other.
After the ceremonies in the Senate, much pressure was brought to bear
upon Mr. Cleveland to abandon the idea of taking the oath out of doors.
He felt, however, that he owed it to the waiting thousands, patiently
standing, to let them see and hear him, and so he followed his previous
course, in tribute to Thomas Jefferson, of delivering his inaugural
address before the oath was administered by Chief Justice Fuller.
Among the many interested spectators of the ceremonies were Mrs.
Cleveland and Mrs. Stevenson, who braved the weather to hear their
husbands.
Following the ceremonies at the Capitol and the luncheon at the White
House, the new President took his position in the open reviewing stand,
where he stood for three hours as the pageant assembled in his honour
and marched past. Mrs. Cleveland reviewed the parade from a window over
a drug store on Fifteenth Street, where a party of her old friends had
gathered to be with her.
The procession was remarkable for its length, order, and appearance.
The distinguished and the well-known clubs and organizations
participating represented hosts of Democrats from coast to coast.
Governors of eleven states with their staffs participated; a
fine-looking group of students from Carlisle, and Tammany in all of
the paraphernalia of its origin, 3,400 strong, whom it had taken eight
trains to transport. All these, joined with 20,000 marchers, adherents,
and admirers of the new head of the nation, made a pageant long to be
remembered.
The Inaugural Committee had done valiant work in again preparing
the great Pension Building for the ball at which President and Mrs.
Cleveland arrived about nine o’clock. They were announced by the
Marine Band’s “Hail to the Chief.” Their tour of the ballroom gave
many scores of people the opportunity to see their Chief Executive and
the First Lady at close range, a privilege for which thousands had
travelled many miles and endured great discomforts. Mrs. Cleveland,
walking with Justice Gray, was all-inclusive in her smile and
greetings, but scores carried away the fond belief that she smiled just
at each of them. The President, escorted by General Schofield, radiated
pride and happiness. When they reached their own special reception
room, the Vice President and Mrs. Stevenson, with their daughters, were
the first to pay them respect. Here, too, came hosts of old friends to
extend congratulations and greetings.
Mrs. Cleveland’s dress was, of course, the observed of all observers.
Severe and simple in style, it was rich and graceful. Made of heavy
white satin with an empire front and tightly fitting back, the skirt
was carried out to a pointed train. It was trimmed with point lace and
crystal beads. The embroidery ran up in rows about twelve inches from
the edge of the skirt. The front was most elaborately embroidered with
crystal beads, while the huge puffs of the satin that made the sleeves
were dotted with the crystal. Stiff satin bows at the shoulders and a
heavy fall of the lace completed the corsage. She wore diamonds.
Mrs. Stevenson’s handsome gown was distinctive, being white moire
antique made in the style of 1830. It had a narrow binding of purple
velvet on the edge of the skirt and on the edge of the round low-necked
waist. Garlands of purple violets were arranged to fall over the
old-fashioned bertha of fine duchess lace. Puff sleeves of the velvet
reached to the elbow and were met by soft suède gloves of the same
shade. Mrs. Stevenson’s fan was a dainty affair of flowers, lace, and
ribbons in the same tints.
Adjoining the ballroom, a huge temporary structure had been constructed
on the north side as a kitchen. From this a local caterer supplied an
elaborate banquet to all who sought refreshments.
Part of the celebration, and one that from the beginning has been
popular in connection with inauguration ceremonies, was the unusually
beautiful pyrotechnic display.
While the Democratic chieftain and Mrs. Cleveland and all of their
followers were celebrating their victory, another charming function
was in progress in honour of Ex-President Harrison and Mrs. McKee, at
the home of Postmaster General Wanamaker, Eighteenth and I streets,
formerly the Whitney home, where Mrs. McKee and President Harrison’s
household had gone early in the day. Here, too, all of the retiring
Cabinet and the prominent Republican officials were guests at an
elaborate farewell banquet and reception. From this General Harrison
and Mrs. McKee went to the special train for Pittsburgh, where they
were invited to visit before returning to Indianapolis.
Great interest was manifested in Baby McKee’s successor, Ruth
Cleveland. The night following her father’s installation, she was taken
seriously ill, but soon recovered. Mrs. Cleveland found her problems
multiplying rapidly regarding the care of her baby girl. The general
public visiting the White House seemed to regard the President’s child
as part of the establishment. Mrs. Cleveland was horrified one morning
on glancing out of the window to see her baby being handed from one to
another of a group of about twenty tourists. Against their eagerness
to fondle the baby the nurse was helpless. Upon another occasion, a
determined visitor had to be prevented by force from snipping a lock
of the baby’s hair as she passed through the corridor of the White
House in her nurse’s arms. Then the President and his wife decided
that, for the protection and safety of their child, the gates of the
grounds must be kept closed and locked. This order was received with
great indignation and considerable protest, and Mrs. Cleveland suffered
much perturbation and annoyance in consequence, especially when it was
boldly asserted that her little girl was a deaf mute, was deficient
in faculties, or otherwise afflicted, so that her parents wished to
keep her affliction from public attention. One day, while receiving a
delegation in the latter part of the administration, Mrs. Cleveland saw
Ruth pass the door. She called to her to come in and let the ladies see
that she was not minus arms, legs, or fingers.
With the family installed, President Cleveland and his wife readily
settled to their respective tasks. Mrs. Cleveland slipped into place
as easily as if she had never left it, and began again her regular
Saturday afternoon receptions, which had become so popular in the first
term. The President also resumed his semi-weekly public receptions,
which he came to enjoy so much, since it gave him the opportunity to
meet people and talk to those who wished to talk to him.
The selection of the Cabinet was a momentous task. The group finally
comprised the following: Secretary of State, Walter Q. Gresham of
Illinois; Secretary of the Treasury, John G. Carlisle of Kentucky;
Secretary of War, Daniel S. Lamont of New York; Attorney General,
Richard Olney of Massachusetts; Postmaster General, Wilson S. Bissell
of New York; Secretary of the Navy, Hilary A. Herbert of Alabama;
Secretary of the Interior, Hoke Smith of Georgia; Secretary of
Agriculture, Julius Sterling Morton of Nebraska.
This was regarded as a good Cabinet, though not so strong as the
President’s first one.
The issues brought forth so prominently in the campaign now thrust
themselves forward for attention; almost immediately came rumblings of
the impending money panic. Naturally, the trouble-making came from both
Republican and Populist ranks.
In the spring of 1893, on May 1st, President Cleveland opened the
great World’s Columbian Exposition, commemorating the five hundredth
anniversary of the discovery of America by Columbus. It continued
for six months. The exhibits displayed were a demonstration of the
world’s progress in arts, industries, inventions, and natural products.
To it came distinguished tourists from all over the world, and
notwithstanding the money depression, twenty-seven million people were
admitted to the exposition.
The money stringency, which the Democrats attributed to the Republican
extravagance of the previous administration in the great increase of
pensioners, which they claim was not offset by the McKinley Tariff
Protection Law, increased as firms failed and industries closed their
shops. In addition to a growing army of unemployed came coal-mine and
railroad strikes.
The nation was brought to the point where the integrity of the dollar,
whether greenback, silver, or gold, had to be maintained. President
Cleveland determined to maintain the gold reserve, for he was convinced
that the safety of the nation depended upon it, and therefore sold
bonds to keep up the reserve. The President also called a special
session of Congress, which repealed the Sherman Silver Purchase and
Coinage Act of 1890, as he was satisfied that the purchasing of the
silver was harmful to the nation’s best interests.
This move, unpopular from the Southern and Western points of view,
naturally put a stop to further buying of silver in huge quantities
and also checked the mintage of silver dollars.
President Cleveland’s second administration found him with a different
attitude toward the purely social features of his position. In the
beginning of his Presidency, he had been more or less impatient at the
necessity for devoting valuable time to receptions. By the time he had
watched his charming wife handle the vast crowds that clamoured to
see her, he caught a new meaning from the contact of the masses with
their Chief Magistrate and First Lady and adapted himself to enjoy the
people. He was particular that no one should be crowded out or rushed
through, and soon made it a rule to give his whole attention for the
brief part of the minute of his contact to the person before him. He
cultivated appropriate responses, and as he began to enjoy these daily
handshaking periods, he responded to greetings with a spontaneity
that evidenced his pleasure and also made him seem more the friendly
man than the exalted exclusive leader. Should, for instance, a man
in passing, ask, “Where is Mrs. Cleveland? Why isn’t she here too?”
instantly, with the twinkle of the eye and the smile his friends loved,
he would answer, “Why, somebody might carry her off.”
Mrs. Cleveland and the President drove together most pleasant
afternoons. Their equipages were more pretentious than those of any of
their predecessors, and were the latest and best examples of carriage
building. Five handsome vehicles made up the presidential stable
equipment--a black landau with green trimmings that had cost $2,000; a
smart brougham, whose value was $1,000; a victoria; also a phaëton that
had been made to order at a cost of $1,000, with a coachman’s rumble
behind; and a surrey. This last was most used by the President.
In the stables were four handsome bays, two for Mrs. Cleveland’s use
and two for the President’s; sometimes, upon very special occasions,
such as parades, the whole four would be driven together.
Among the interesting visitors to the United States during the winter
and spring of 1893 was the eighteen-year-old Hawaiian princess,
Kaiulani, who came with her guardian and his family to seek the aid
of the United States in her behalf. Mr. and Mrs. Davis established
themselves, their ward, their daughter, and secretaries at the
Arlington Hotel. The youthful princess had been educated in England and
therefore knew our language. She was a tall girl, pretty and graceful,
with excellent taste in dress, and was greatly admired at the inaugural
ball. During her visit she received much flattering attention. Mrs.
Cleveland was impressed with her and extended various courtesies,
formal and informal, to her. And considerable sympathy was expressed in
her effort to accede to the Hawaiian throne, from which the Hawaiian
people had deposed her aunt, Lilioukulani, in 1891.
Upon the departure of the Princess and her retinue for Europe, she sent
a letter of appreciation through the press:
March, 1893.
TO THE AMERICAN PEOPLE:
Before I leave this land I want to thank all those whose kindness has
made my visit such a happy one. Not only the hundreds of hands I have
clasped nor the kind smiles I have seen, but the written words of
sympathy that have been sent me from so many homes, have made me feel
that whatever happens to me I shall never be a stranger to you again.
It was to the American people I spoke, and they have heard me, as I
knew they would, and now God bless you for it, from the beautiful home
where your fair First Lady reigns to the dear crippled boy who sent
me his loving letter and prayer.
KAIULANI.
However, her hopes for a throne were destined to disappointment. The
United States sent a commissioner over to Hawaii about the time the
Princess left; the Republic of Hawaii was proclaimed on July 4, 1894.
Then annexation to the United States was sought and later achieved
through a treaty of annexation passed by Congress in 1898.
The announcement early in 1893 that the Princess Infanta Eulalie, aunt
of the small King of Spain (the present King was then about seven
years of age), was coming with her husband, Prince Antoine d’Orleans,
and a large suite of Spanish grandees to visit the World’s Columbian
Exposition as an honour guest representing the Queen Regent of Spain,
created considerable excitement. Much diplomatic correspondence was
necessary before the details of her official reception by the President
were satisfactorily settled. The difficulty was due to the lack of tact
exhibited by Señor Maraugo in expressing the wishes of the President,
who had no desire or intention whatever to omit any courtesy due
the Royal Infanta that was consistent with our Republican form of
government. The minister had allowed his fear that the President would
fail in proper ceremony to become apparent, and in his anxiety to
surround the Princess with the full panoply of her rank, had overlooked
wholly the importance and prestige due to the President of the United
States.
The Infanta arrived in New York May 19th and was received with a great
display of ceremony by the Spanish Consul and the officers of the
Spanish war vessels in New York.
When the Princess arrived in Washington, she was met by Secretary of
State W. G. Gresham and Colonel J. M. Wilson, U. S. A., Master of
Ceremonies and Social Functions at the White House. Two troops of
cavalry from Fort Myer, under command of Colonel Guy V. Henry, had been
detailed to escort her to the Arlington Hotel annex, which, cut off
from the rest of the hotel, had been set aside with all of its three
floors of rooms for the use of the Infanta and her suite of nineteen
persons. The annex had at one time been the elegant private residence
of Charles Sumner, and only after his death had been bought and added
to the hotel property. It had just been redecorated and furnished.
Very shortly after the arrival, the Infanta, with her party, was
escorted to the White House, where President and Mrs. Cleveland awaited
her.
At the conclusion of the fifteen-minute call, the President escorted
his visitor to the door and watched her departure--a full concession to
her royalty.
In the afternoon of the same day, the Infanta received a call from Mrs.
Cleveland, accompanied by Mrs. Carlisle, Mrs. Lamont, and other ladies
of the Cabinet.
A crowd hung about the Arlington and occupied every bench seat in
Lafayette Square to get a close glimpse of this bit of elegant
pageantry from the Old World.
On the 24th of May, the President and Mrs. Cleveland gave the first
state dinner of their administration. It was in honour of the Princess
and her party. Thirty-six guests were seated in the state dining room.
Just a little while before the arrival of the guests, a small tempest
swept over the city. Though brief, it was violent, and during its
outburst carried off the strip of carpet placed across the portico of
the White House to the carriage steps.
At this function the new Cabinet met for the first time; at the dinner
to them on the evening of March 4th their appointments had not yet been
confirmed, and some of the wives had not been present. Here, too, were
entirely new doorkeepers, new ushers, a new steward, and new servants,
Mrs. Cleveland having brought from New York all of the staff within her
province to engage. She had, however, retained Miss Josephine Kniep the
housekeeper the Harrisons had valued so highly.
Mrs. Cleveland’s artistic taste had been given full scope in the floral
arrangement. The long historic mirror in the centre of the table
reflected the beauty of the two Spanish flags made of red and yellow
roses that rested against each other with their staffs of scarlet
geraniums. The flower stands held red and yellow roses, the tapers had
red and yellow shades; and these colours were also carried out in the
tints of ices, sweets, and bonbons.
After the royal visitors were presented to all of the assembled guests,
the party, being seated with punctilious observance of State Department
rules of precedence, did full justice to a ten-course dinner with its
full complement of wines. At Mrs. Cleveland’s place there was just an
apollinaris tumbler.
Mrs. Cleveland was particularly charming and lovely in her gown of
blue embroidered crêpe, made in a modified empire style, with the
fashionable puffed sleeve; a pleated fall of lace finished the neck.
A diamond flower spray in her hair was especially attractive and a
beautiful star of these jewels adorned her bodice.
The Princess wore a court gown of white satin brocaded in rosebud
stripes. Her skirt, with many gores, was full, and the train long; the
whole lower part of the skirt was bordered with a ruffle of lace caught
with bunches of wild roses. The bodice was low and was distinctive,
since it had no sleeves, the lace and flower trimming making a band
over the shoulders. Her jewels were superb--diamonds and emeralds of
prodigious size and brilliance, and in a quantity to be deserving of
the judgment that they were worth a king’s ransom.
The guests at the state dinner comprised the Cabinet, the members of
the Supreme Court and their wives, General and Mrs. Schofield, the
Spanish Minister, Senator Sherman, and Mrs. Harriet Land Johnston. The
boutonnières for the gentlemen were yellow orchids, while a cluster of
American Beauty roses was provided for each lady. Place cards were long
Spanish flags with their staffs tied with the Spanish colours.
No private calls were received by the Infanta--only those of an
official nature. According to the custom followed abroad, a book was
kept at the ladies’ entrance of the hotel. All persons entitled to call
were requested to inscribe their names therein. This was considered a
call, since visiting cards were not left for royalty. Upon the cover of
this was embossed in gold letters: “_Infantes Du Antonio y Da Eulalia._”
When the party had first arrived, a small Spanish lad who had been a
stowaway on the ship joined it. Despite his being rebuked, he made his
way to Washington, and when the matter was brought to the Princess’s
attention, she laughed and, to the boy’s great joy, ordered him put in
uniform and attached to her suite.
After almost a week of charming attentions and delightful experience,
the royal party departed for New York and Chicago, the crowd keeping a
close vigil until the last of the one hundred and two pieces of baggage
had been carried off to the station.
The Infanta’s reception in the United States throughout her stay
brought forth her warm praise.
[Illustration: _Photo. by Clinedinst Studio, Washington, D. C._
THE INAUGURATION OF GROVER CLEVELAND]
In September, the White House nursery had another occupant, with the
birth of another little daughter, Esther. Much of Mrs. Cleveland’s time
had been occupied in making many of the dainty little garments after
she had withdrawn herself from social affairs for the summer months.
While the general public was deeply interested in Ruth Cleveland, she
did not command the same degree of enthusiasm as was showered on her
little sister Esther, since Esther was a real White House baby, the
ninth child born under that famous roof, just as her mother was the
ninth White House bride. These facts gave the people of the country a
proprietary feeling toward this mite of humanity, and resulted in a
deluge of gifts of all kinds and degrees of loveliness and value. In
fact, not only America, but England, France, Germany, Russia, all not
only sent messages to the babe and her lovely mother, but followed
up their missives of greeting with gifts, until a huge supply had
accumulated. There were dainty white furs from the Far North, linens
from the cloisters of Spain, dresses, christening robes, sacks, socks,
robes, booties of wool, of kid, and of chamois, bibs, wee bits of
baby jewellery--everything a baby needs multiplied many times. A room
overflowed with toys, and one paper of the time, in describing the
deluge, insisted that there were enough cradles, cribs, and carriages
for a full score of babies, and toys enough for an asylum.
The day Esther was born, the President received informally the young
Japanese Prince Yorihato Komatsu, the grand-nephew of the Mikado, who
was travelling around the world incognito.
One of the events in which Washington was greatly interested was the
one hundredth anniversary of the laying of the corner stone of the
United States Capitol, which occurred on September 18, 1893. The
celebration started with the ringing of the centennial chime, after
which there was a procession, and other features by civic organizations
as nearly like those of a hundred years ago as the changed conditions
would permit. William Wirt Henry, a grandson of Patrick Henry, was one
of the speakers.
The prevalence of hard times and the growing numbers of unemployed
brought to pass the assembling of “armies” in all parts of the country.
The first of these aggregations of unemployed, led by a horse dealer
named Coxey, set out for Washington from Ohio to demand relief from the
government. Other armies with the same object started from the Western
Coast states and from Texas, numbering in all about six thousand men.
Many of them were honest and sincerely desired work. Others were toughs
who joined for a lark and followed what seemed to promise adventure.
Still others were plain everyday tramps and loafers and criminals. They
begged for food, and when it was not forthcoming they foraged; and when
they grew tired of marching, they simply boarded trains and rode. Coxey
reached Washington, mounted the steps of the Capitol, made addresses,
and hung around the city for a while. His “army” camped near by from
April 26 to May 1, 1894. Its presence necessitated the increasing of
the White House Guard from twelve to twenty-six men. As long as no open
act of lawlessness and disorder was committed, Coxey and his followers
were unmolested; they wearied of their futile task and disbanded
without accomplishing anything.
Soon afterward, in the city of Chicago, a strike occurred. Two thousand
workmen employed by the Pullman Car Company decided they must have
higher wages. Men on some of the Western roads also struck out of
sympathy for the Pullman workers, deciding they would not work to help
in the use or operation of the trains until the Pullman workers got
their desired raise. They carried the determined stand so far that, for
a time, not a train was running between San Francisco and Chicago.
On June 28th, the American Railway Union, directed by Eugene Debs,
declared a boycott on all Pullman cars, thereby tying up all railroads
west of Chicago hauling these cars. The next day, the United States
Court at Chicago issued an injunction against the strikers, as the
mails were prevented from proceeding. When it was brought to the
President’s attention that the governor of the State of Illinois either
could not or would not take steps to break the strike, he made the
cryptic statement, “I will call out the whole army, if necessary, to
deliver a postcard.”
Those who knew President Cleveland and his unfaltering determination in
the pursuit of duty were satisfied that he would bring the strike to an
end.
Major General Miles, then in command of the Missouri, with headquarters
in Chicago, brought the news to the President that the city was at the
mercy of the mobs, and the seriousness of the situation was intensified
by the fact that there was more than twenty million dollars in the
Sub-Treasury, a fact that was generally known. The food supplies in
the East were jeopardized, especially if the strike were to extend
eastward. The President lost no time in ordering the United States
troops to the spot. The strike leaders were arrested and communication
between them and their henchmen prevented; so the strikers disbanded
and went back to work, and the strike collapsed. The relief over the
settlement of the trouble may be appreciated when it is realized that a
mob of ten thousand men were idle in Chicago alone and that the traffic
blockade extended from Illinois through Indiana, Iowa, Missouri, North
Dakota, Montana, Oregon, Washington, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Nevada,
California, New Mexico, and Nebraska.
During this administration it was found expedient to abandon the Force
Act. As the country had gradually stabilized and state governments had
become efficient, Federal troops were not required to be present at
state elections, and the Force Act, providing for such measures when
needed, was repealed.
The first year of the second administration was certainly a trying one
for the Executive, since, while directing his energies to controlling
and conquering a host of problems at home, the nation became involved
in another dispute with England over the Behring Sea and seal hunting.
Past experience had proved the wisdom of referring such matters of
foreign disagreement to a commission. The same policy was followed, and
a commission of seven prominent men was chosen by the United States,
England, France, Italy, Norway, and Sweden to adjust the matter of
contention. An amicable settlement resulted, which provided that the
Behring Sea should remain open, but that seals should be protected
against indiscriminate killing.
Many have declared Cleveland’s act in regard to the Venezuelan matter
the most important of his administration. For a number of years, the
boundary line between New Guinea and Venezuela had been a matter of
dispute and contention. Venezuela finally appealed to the United States
to use her influence to induce Great Britain to submit the matter
to arbitration. The idea was not favourably received by the British
Government.
President Cleveland’s ideas on the matter began to clarify, and he
sent a message to Congress December 17, 1895, accompanied by all of
the correspondence in the case, and recommended the appointment of
a commission to determine the actual boundary. His message intimated
that the United States would enforce the decision. Congress followed
the President’s lead; the commission was appointed, but before it had
completed the task assigned, England had come to an agreement with
Venezuela, a joint board of arbitration having been appointed. Although
the President received a great deal of criticism for his application of
the Monroe Doctrine, the country’s prestige was much increased.
President Cleveland stood firm for Civil Service reform, which had
always been one of his hobbies, and before his term closed, about half
of all offices of the government were already under Civil Service and
filled by competitive examinations, instead of being parcelled out as
political patronage.
After a long and bitter struggle, Congress enacted a tariff measure,
a modified form of the Wilson Tariff. This reduced protective duties
about one fourth and admitted free lumber, wool, and salt. It also
condemned trusts.
The public was always interested in the Cleveland babies, and
spontaneous congratulations, greetings, and gifts poured in when it was
known that the stork had paid a visit to Gray Gables in July of 1895,
leaving another small daughter, upon whom was conferred the name of
Marian. By this time, little Ruth was finding her busy father a fine
playfellow, and many good times they had drawing pictures and making
things together in his office when his day’s work was done.
The people of the South had planned an exhibition. It was called
“Cotton States and International Exhibition,” and was opened in
September, 1895, by the pressure of the electric button by the tiny
finger of the newest White House baby, Marian. Thus from the gun room
of her father’s charming house, Gray Gables, on Massachusetts Bay,
the two-months-old infant set all of the wheels revolving to open
the exposition. Great gates and doors swung wide; machinery started
buzzing; and with the boom of the cannon and the sound of the shrill
whistles, the activities of the great exposition were set in motion.
With the admission of Utah in 1896, the number of states was forty-five.
Li Hung Chang, Chinese statesman, commander-in-chief of all forces
in the war with Japan, and originator of the Chinese Navy, on a tour
of the world, came to visit the United States, August 28, 1896. He
was received by President Cleveland the following day. The original
comments and pertinent queries he made while here were the source of
much amusement.
Mrs. Cleveland’s last season in Washington was as gay as her manifold
duties would permit. Three babies are a full measure of responsibility
even for a mother aided by the best nurses procurable. One of her
long-discussed functions was a luncheon for forty-eight guests for her
husband’s sister, Miss Rose Cleveland. This was most elaborate and
elegant.
The last Christmas in their administration was a gay one for the
children. Three little stockings were hung on the chimney shelf. There
were many gay parties with the Lamont children and other little folk of
the Cabinet household, and a whole room filled to its utmost capacity
with wonderful gifts and toys.
Though the eyes of the nation were already turning toward the future
occupants so soon to be installed in the White House, public interest
in the Clevelands had not diminished. Mrs. Cleveland’s New Year
reception of 1897 and the evening reception which followed were
attended by the largest throngs ever known. People seemed just to
realize she was leaving the White House, and they were anxious to see
and speak with her. Many brought their children, impressing upon them
the impending departure of the sweet wholesome lady who gave another
opportunity to shake her hand to those who had been too confused to do
so when they first passed. Great numbers of guests crowded also to the
last of the Saturday afternoon receptions. These delightful affairs
for the public ceased with Mrs. Cleveland’s departure, and since her
régime, there have been no affairs for the public save the New Year
receptions.
From Helen Nicolay’s pen this description of one of Mrs. Cleveland’s
farewell “crushes” is taken in part:
“A little before three o’clock Mrs. Cleveland entered on the arm of
Colonel Wilson, and took her place in the improvised passageway, near
the northern door leading from the Red into the Blue Room. Colonel
Wilson stood between her and the door.
“Then the doors were opened and the real reception began, when for two
hours people of high and low degree, white and black passed through
the room at the rate of twenty-five a minute. Mrs. Cleveland had a
smile and a hearty handshake for each one, and her quick wit and
gracious tact were exercised to the utmost in kindly deeds. The little
woman, for instance, who was so absorbed in gazing at her hostess’s
beautiful face that she missed the outstretched hand was given another
chance, after she had quite passed on; and the children were greeted
with special kindness. There were touchingly many children: little
ones in arms, toddlers almost as small, who seemed in danger of being
trampled underfoot, but who had been brought because it was Mrs.
Cleveland’s last reception and in after years they would be proud to
have seen and touched the hand of this most popular mistress of the
White House.
“Women of course made up by far the larger part of the crowd. Many
were evidently ‘flustered’ and passed on with set smile and lowered
eyelids, hardly seeing the President’s wife at all. Others seemed
trying to photograph her face in their memory. The men were more
inclined to stop and make little speeches to the First Lady of the
Land; they cared not one whit what she wore. But the young officer
standing opposite laid a warning hand on the arm of each who wished
to linger, and urged him on. Sometimes a rather vigorous push was
necessary to start the procession again. A few coloured people came
through, both men and women, more men possibly than women. One regular
Topsy of a servant girl, black, undersized, in battered straw sailor,
twisted into shapes that only a coloured Topsy’s hat can assume, with
tattered apron and faded clothes, walked down the line, gleams of such
exultant daring and satisfied desire illuminating the look she rolled
over the daintily clad ladies behind Mrs. Cleveland, that it seemed a
whole revelation of character, and a volume of race history besides.
Toward the end of the reception two Indians added their characteristic
features to the throng.
“Occasionally the stream would be held back for a moment or two,
that she might rest, and she would turn, a little breathless, to
lean on the back of the sofa and survey the group of people behind
her, with bright nods to this and that acquaintance. During one of
these intervals she showed her shapely ungloved right hand to a lady
standing near. It was literally black with the contact, but as she
regarded it with an amused smile she asserted that she was not at all
tired. Three hours of such exercise might make her so, two hours never
did.
“At five o’clock Mrs. Cleveland again took Colonel Wilson’s arm, and
followed by the Cabinet ladies, proceeded to the dining room. There
the ladies from behind the line, and such as had been personally
invited to stay, joined them. A round table was set with tea things,
red roses, fancy cakes, and the gold spoons of the state dinner
service. Chairs were placed in two or three rows around the sides of
the room, and Mrs. Cleveland begged us all to be seated. The company
broke up into little groups, when tea and ices were served, Mrs.
Cleveland being helped first. She then moved about, cup in hand, from
group to group, sitting and chatting a few moments with each.
“It made a picture long to be remembered--the square room with its
airy buff-tinted walls, and sideboard set with historic china and
silver, the dainty table, the groups of attractive women in dresses
as many-tinted as a garden of flowers; the gay pinks, greens, cherry,
blues, and whites subdued to just the right proportion by those of
gray and black and rich dull colours; and moving about among them,
Mrs. Cleveland in her lavender gown, by far the most beautiful woman
there, and as wholesome and sweet and natural as the violets at her
belt.”
The ladies of the Cabinet, learning of Mrs. Cleveland’s love for the
“true blue” of the turquoise, presented her with an exquisite ring set
with this gem as a parting gift of affection.
She set the mansion in order for Mrs. McKinley and departed with her
little folks to get the new home at Princeton ready for her husband,
who, with the burden of state lifted from his shoulders, joined a party
of friends for a restful cruise and fishing trip before joining her.
Achievement was writ large upon Grover Cleveland’s presidential history
page. He laboured long and arduously for the welfare of the nation,
most of the time under the strain of great criticism, but he discharged
his duties in a way that, as time goes on, adds greater lustre to his
name.
Upon his retirement, Cleveland sought a quiet life in the university
town where he was actively associated with the college. He maintained
an interest in various financial enterprises and, for the first time
in his busy life, indulged in his favourite pastimes of hunting and
fishing with a group of old friends and acquaintances among whom was
Joseph Jefferson, the actor. Those who doubt the charm and humour of
Mr. Cleveland’s conversations should read his fishing and duck-hunting
stories. Most of all he enjoyed his young family, two sons being
born within a few years of his retirement. He was an interested and
sympathetic adviser in Mrs. Cleveland’s many activities, especially her
promotion of kindergartens.
Many civic honours came to him. He died at his home in Princeton June
24, 1908, and was buried in the Princeton Cemetery.
CHAPTER X
FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF WILLIAM MCKINLEY
_March 4, 1897, to March 4, 1901_
Few inaugurations have witnessed such a happy combination of good
weather, universal enthusiasm, and unusually large throngs of visitors
as attended the first inauguration of William McKinley.
President Cleveland drove to the Ebbitt House, where Mr. McKinley was
staying, and then together the incoming and the outgoing Presidents
rode to the Capitol accompanied by two members of the Senatorial
Committee.
Mrs. McKinley left the hotel about ten minutes before eleven o’clock.
She walked to the carriage leaning on the arm of Secretary Porter, who
had left the President-elect at the White House and had then returned
hastily to the hotel for the purpose of seeing to the comfort of Mrs.
McKinley. On the other side was Chairman Bell, of the inauguration
committee, and between the two stalwart men, the lady who was to be
first in the land was tenderly sheltered from the crowd which pressed
upon them from every side.
Mrs. McKinley looked pale but happy. With her were her sister, Mrs.
Mary Barber, little Kate Barber, and the President’s mother, who
refused to be separated from these members of her family. Several
officers of the regular army were in attendance to escort them.
After the ceremonies in the Senate Chamber, the President-elect was
sworn in by Chief Justice Fuller on the East Portico, where thousands
of people had gathered. In the bright light, his face, when he stood
bareheaded to take the oath of office, was clear to all.
Mrs. McKinley, his aged mother, sat close beside him, and her evident
pride and gratification were noted with pleasure, as was also his
affectionate greeting to her and his wife at the conclusion of the
ceremonies.
The presidential party took luncheon at the Capitol after the official
exercises on the inaugural stand and before starting to the White
House. It is said that Mr. McKinley ate sparingly, ordering only a
roll, a cup of coffee, and a piece of ham.
As he and ex-President Cleveland later emerged from the Capitol, the
cavalry buglers sounded a salute, the troopers came to present arms,
and the great throngs pressed forward to catch a glimpse of the new
President. Cheer on cheer went up, frightening the horses and making
some confusion in bringing forward the handsome turnout which was to
bear the party to the White House. The President bowed and smiled.
In his triumphal progress from the Capitol to the White House,
President McKinley had for his escort a famous volunteer cavalry
organization, Troop A of Cleveland. They preceded the carriage, while
behind came the Twenty-third Ohio, the regiment which the new President
had led in the days of the Civil War. Following in the wake was one
of the greatest military and civic cortèges ever assembled. It was
late in the day before the last of them had passed in review before
the President. The number of political clubs in the parade was greater
than at other inaugurations, and formed an interesting feature of the
festivities. Observing that the salutes were continuous, Mr. McKinley
at last sat bareheaded, hat in hand, waving acknowledgment to the
multitude.
Enthusiastic praise was given veterans in the parade. When General
Cecil Clay, who had charge of the District militia, passed the
reviewing stand he raised the remnant of his right arm in salute, and
the spectators rose and cheered with all their might. General Howard,
who had but his left arm remaining, was similarly greeted when he put
his reins between his teeth and saluted with his left arm.
When, at the conclusion of the parade, the President stepped on the
portico of the White House, he was met by Mrs. Grant, the widow of
the illustrious warrior and ex-President, who, in company with Bishop
Newman, had been patiently waiting for this opportunity of meeting him.
He greeted them so cordially that both felt fully repaid for their long
wait. The President then entered the White House, and a great crowd
that had followed his footsteps closed up against the doors. Failing to
secure admission, they took their station at the windows and eagerly
struggled to get at least a glimpse of the interior.
The President received a few intimate friends, including Senator Hanna;
then dinner was served. The guests were Abner McKinley, brother of the
President, Mr. and Mrs. M. C. Barber and daughter Mary, and Mrs. Maria
Saxton. The initial dinner at the White House was entirely informal.
Although no callers were received after dinner, thousands of curious
people crowded the portico and demanded admittance. It was only by the
vigorous efforts of a cordon of police that the doorway was kept clear.
Again the Pension Building was the magnet, drawing youth, beauty, and
fashion, as well as the curious, to tread the stately measure of the
march and dance. This time the magnificent ballroom was a symphony of
white and gold, which made a glowing background for the rainbow tints
of the gowns.
Mrs. McKinley’s ball gown of her favourite shade of blue silk had a
long train, high neck, and long sleeves. It was a lovely combination of
brocade and point lace, diamond pins fastening the lace at the corsage.
Diamond-studded side combs held her hair in soft puffs in front in
accordance with the prevailing fashion.
The President’s aged mother, very stately in her rich black satin,
seemed to get as much enjoyment out of the ball as she had got out of
the proceedings at the Capitol.
After the presidential party had greeted the assemblage as they
passed through the ballroom, supper was served in the room splendidly
decorated for them, and they returned to the White House early, as
Mrs. McKinley’s fragile strength had been put to a severe test through
the long, exciting day. The President’s mother, whose joy in her
distinguished son and his honours was a rejuvenating tonic, was also
fatigued.
A detail of the inauguration of particular interest to many visitors
was the unusual car which had been provided for Mr. McKinley’s trip
from Canton to Washington. It was a private car without name, known
simply as “No. 38.” The walls were of white oak, solid, instead of
the ordinary studding. The top was a double framework of steel with
a cushioned ceiling. The floors were of four thicknesses of white
oak. Such unusual construction made the car proof against smashing in
collision or breaking should it roll down an embankment. Every home
comfort was provided: an old-fashioned log fireplace, two elegant
bedroom apartments with bath to each, dainty china, rich silver, and
every conceivable luxury to make travelling a delight.
Mrs. McKinley brought with her a young German maid, devoted to her and
convinced that no former mistress of the mansion could approach her
beloved mistress in elegance. During the week following inauguration,
“Lena” took especial pride and delight in personally conducting Mrs.
McKinley’s relatives and intimate friends on an inspection tour of her
dressing room to display to them the White House outfits of the First
Lady and her niece Miss Mary Barber, who spent much time with her.
It is doubtful if any White House mistress brought a more complete or
elegant wardrobe with her than the one upon which Mrs. McKinley had
expended ten thousand dollars and much thought and in the selection
of which “the Major” had been drawn into consultation. For the early
formal functions she had provided eight unusually beautiful gowns that
brought enthusiastic praise for her good taste.
When McKinley, the twenty-fifth President of the United States, took
the oath of office on the 4th of March, 1897, he was admirably equipped
for the duties of his new position. He had been for years prominent in
public life; his personal character and private life had endeared him
to the hearts of the people; he was in the prime of manhood; he was a
student of affairs. He was more of a politician than of a statesman,
but the development of events proved that he could be either or both.
His regard for the popular will and his long training in accurately
judging its expression served as a restraining influence in his
policies and prevented dangerous and possibly fatal rashness. When
his plans had been fully matured, they were executed with skill. Each
succeeding year, with its additional burden of important questions, saw
the President broaden and develop in the art of government.
His early background had much to do with his success. He was born
in Niles, Trumbull County, Ohio, January 29, 1843. His father,
William McKinley, Sr., moved to Ohio from Pennsylvania. The family
was Scotch-Irish, whose forefathers had come to America 150 years
before. He was the seventh child in the family of nine. As a boy, he
had regular schooling and was especially noted for his brilliancy in
debate. Later, he taught in the public schools of the Kerr district,
near Poland. About this time, he joined the Methodist Episcopal Church
and became a diligent student of the Bible.
At the outbreak of the Civil War, he was a clerk in the Poland post
office. When the call was made for volunteers, young McKinley was among
those who stepped forward. He went with the recruits to Columbus and
was enlisted as a private in Company E, Twenty-third Ohio Volunteer
Infantry. This regiment numbered among its officers William S.
Rosecrans, afterward major general, and Rutherford B. Hayes, later
nineteenth President of the United States.
[Illustration: MRS. IDA SAXTON McKINLEY]
[Illustration: _Photo. Underwood & Underwood_
WILLIAM McKINLEY]
Many are the soldier stories of camp and battlefield in which McKinley
figured. Henry H. Woodruff, of Oakland, Cal., who served in the same
regiment with him, sent the author the following story of the famous
old Twenty-third Ohio with McKinley’s service to it in war, and its
service to McKinley when he was President. He says:
“I was born in the township of Mecca, County of Trumbull, State of
Ohio, July 15, 1841. Wm. McKinley was born in the next township at
Niles, in Trumbull County, Ohio, January 29, 1843. I entered the
preparatory department of Oberlin College, Oberlin, Ohio, about thirty
miles west of Cleveland, April 15, 1861. We were in class in old
Tappin Hall, when the Professor read a dispatch from Washington City
stating that President Lincoln had called for 75,000 men to go
to the front to put down the Rebellion. Instantly every male member
of that class volunteered, grabbed his hat, rushed out in front of
the building, and tried to form a line, or company, as we had no
military knowledge, being only farmer boys or students. We took the
cars for Cleveland, going into Camp in the old Fair Grounds called
‘Camp Taylor.’ Other companies began to arrive, officers were elected,
and we were formed into a regiment and given the number Twenty-third
Ohio. We soon moved to ‘Camp Chare’ at Columbus, where the regimental
organization was completed and Wm. Stark Rosecrans appointed colonel.
“As new companies arrived, I sometimes would go among them and get
acquainted with the boys. One day I visited Company E and, to my
surprise, found a _Private_, my neighbour, Billy McKinley. Colonel
Rosecrans took the regiment into West Virginia, where we were just
in time for the battle of Cainifax Ferry, September 10, 1861. This
is the first battle the writer or ‘Billy’ ever saw. We moved around
considerably, joining other forces all under command of ‘Old Rosey.’
We had fought nineteen battles before the war was over, commencing at
Cainifax Ferry and ending at Fisher’s Hill, in the upper Shenandoah
Valley.
“After serving as a private for one year, McKinley was promoted to
Regimental Commissary Sergeant and got his first shoulder straps, for
the meritorious act performed by him at Antietam. We lined up for
battle and commenced firing before the sun rose. McKinley, knowing the
condition of our haversacks, drew from the quartermaster 1,000 rations
of fresh beef, got camp kettles, pressed some men into service, cut up
and cooked the entire amount, pressed a teamster (John Harvey by name)
into service, got some crackers and drove along behind the line still
in battle, giving every man a chunk of beef between two crackers. I
thought then and still think it was the sweetest morsel I ever ate.
“This act was noticed by Colonel (afterward President) Hayes, who was
in command, and McKinley got a commission as Second Lieutenant. From
this he rose rapidly through all grades, ending with Brevet Major,
then Governor of Ohio, and President of the United States.
“Soon after his election he began to make plans for his inauguration,
and among other things, he issued an invitation to his old regiment to
assemble in Washington City and to act as his escort on Inauguration
Day, with the result that ninety-six members arrived at our
headquarters, very proud of our honoured Comrade ‘Billy,’ as he was
called.
“Next morning, we assembled in the Capitol grounds to witness the
_second_ member of our regiment take the oath of office as President
of the United States. We took the post of honour under the command
of Captain Skyles, whom we had elected as our Commander, formed on
Pennsylvania Avenue, and with great pomp and honour escorted the new
President to the White House, his future home.
“Next day was set apart for the foreign diplomats to make their
official calls on the new President. When we arrived there was a great
crowd ahead of us. English, French, German, Japanese, Chinese, etc.,
with their retinues of officers and servants all waiting their turn of
admission. The doors were securely locked and guarded by armed men;
soon the President appeared at the door and speaking to the guards,
said, ‘Let my comrades in first.’ Captain Skyles gave the order,
‘_Forward_, Twenty-third.’ When I heard that welcome order, my head
swelled with pride and I got a California strut on me, as we marched
by so many waiting diplomats into the East Room, to shake hands with
our highly honoured comrade.”
Major McKinley participated in the final act of the great war
drama, the grand review in Washington. On his return to Poland, a
complimentary dinner was given him by the citizens. He entered the
office of Judge Charles E. Glidden, at Youngstown, Ohio. After one
year’s study under the preceptorship of Judge Glidden, he went to law
school in Albany, N. Y., and in March, 1867, was admitted to the bar at
Warren, Ohio.
On the advice of his sister Anna, he decided to settle at Canton,
and was elected prosecuting attorney of Stark County in 1869. He was
renominated, but missed reëlection by forty-five votes. Resuming his
private practice, he soon built up a profitable business. But in all
political campaigns he was in constant demand as a speaker.
Mr. McKinley was married to Miss Ida Saxton on January 25, 1871.
Miss Saxton’s grandparents were among the founders of Canton nearly
a century ago. She was the daughter of a prominent banker, James A.
Saxton, and granddaughter of John Saxton, who established a well-known
publication, the Canton _Repository_, during the War of 1812.
Miss Ida Saxton was born in June of 1847. As a girl she was extremely
pretty, lively, and popular. While completing her education she also
participated in the various activities of her time for soldier relief.
Her father undertook the supervision of her training and education, and
as soon as her graduation closed her studies at a seminary in Media,
he resolved she should be properly trained in practical business,
especially as she would have a little property left her. Consequently,
she served as his assistant in the bank with which he was associated.
When about nineteen, and when she had been in the bank about three
years, her father died. His loss was such a shock that she was
threatened with serious illness, and her older sister, with whom she
lived, persuaded her to travel abroad.
After her return to Canton came the romance of her life with the young
lawyer who had just been elected prosecuting attorney of Stark County.
Like the Harrisons, they started their married life in a boarding
house, but only until their own little home was ready. Here their first
child, Katie, was born, late in December of 1871. This little one
lived to be three years old. Another little daughter, named Ida for
the young mother, also died in infancy. Added to the grief of losing
her children, she had the additional sorrow of her mother’s death.
Altogether, the shock proved too much for her reserve force. From the
time she was sixteen, ill health had threatened, and the poignant grief
for her loved ones made her an invalid.
Mr. McKinley was first nominated for Congress in 1876, and elected.
During the progress of this canvass, he visited the Centennial
Exposition at Philadelphia and was introduced by James G. Blaine to a
great audience which he completely captivated.
He entered Congress while his old colonel, Hayes, was President, and
the friendship gave him at the start an influence which might have
taken a much longer time to win under other circumstances. His power
as a speaker brought him distinction, and his ability as a worker in
committees was soon recognized. He was reëlected to the Forty-sixth,
Forty-seventh, Forty-eighth, Forty-ninth, Fiftieth, and Fifty-first
Congresses. During his whole career in Congress, Mr. McKinley was a
consistent advocate of a protective tariff.
It was in the Fifty-first Congress that McKinley’s great political
opportunity came. He was a leading candidate for the speakership with
Thomas B. Reed. Reed was elected. The chairmanship of the powerful Ways
and Means Committee fell to McKinley. On April 6, 1890, he introduced
the tariff measure which has since borne his name. The bill became a
law on October 6, 1890. During all of the struggle while the bill was
pending, McKinley displayed qualities of leadership of the highest
order. Before the next election came around, his district had been
gerrymandered against him, the adverse majority being fully 3,000.
McKinley was defeated by 300 votes. His defeat really made him Governor
of Ohio. His victory over Governor Campbell, the Democratic candidate
for reëlection, was decisive.
He was the presiding officer of the Republican National Convention
at Minneapolis in 1892, when the attempt was made to stampede the
delegates for him. It was a most trying situation, but he bore himself
with coolness and decision. When Ohio recorded two votes for him, he
challenged the vote so as to put himself on record for Harrison. When
the roll call was complete, Harrison received 535 votes, Blaine 182,
McKinley 182, and Reed 4. Leaving the chair, Mr. McKinley mounted
a seat in the Ohio delegation and moved to make the nomination of
Harrison unanimous. Governor McKinley’s campaign tour through the West
for Harrison was one of the marvels of the time. He made 325 speeches
in 300 different towns. For more than eight weeks he averaged more than
seven speeches a day. He travelled over sixteen thousand miles and
addressed more than two million people.
Toward the latter part of Mr. Cleveland’s administration, it became
clear that the free silver faction of the Democratic party would
control the Democratic Convention, but the Republican Convention
assembled first. One of Ohio’s wealthy manufacturers, Marcus A. Hanna,
became convinced that the Republican party needed William McKinley
for its leader, and he set about bringing this to pass with his own
business methods. At the convention, Governor McKinley was nominated
on the first ballot, with Garret A. Hobart, of New Jersey, for Vice
President. The Republican platform declared for protection.
In the Democratic Convention, events had been more spectacular. Old
leaders were superseded by more radical ones, and the West became
a factor in politics with William Jennings Bryan making his first
appearance. He attended the convention merely as a reporter, and when
he seized the opportunity during a long debate to launch his Cross of
Gold and Crown of Thorns speech, he electrified the assembly, and in
the wild enthusiasm which it aroused, he was nominated. While John R.
McLean, of Ohio, had the lead for the Vice Presidency until the fourth
ballot, he lost to Sewall, of Maine.
Bryan made a meteoric speech-making dash over the country that played
havoc with party allegiance, for many Democrats swung to the support of
the Republican candidate, and many Republicans preferred to trail with
the following of the silver-tongued orator. From this time on, William
Jennings Bryan was a factor to be considered in the politics of the
land.
The platform of free silver faction of the Democratic party called for
the free coinage of silver at the ratio of sixteen to one and turned
against the administration of Cleveland.
The silver Republicans also had a convention, endorsing Bryan for
President and Thomas E. Watson of Georgia for Vice President.
The gold Democrats nominated John M. Palmer, Union veteran of Illinois,
for President and Simeon B. Buckner, a Confederate veteran for Vice
President.
The Prohibition party also split on the silver question.
The Republicans made their fight on the money stringency and the
tariff.
When the confusion subsided and the electoral votes were counted, they
gave the election to McKinley with a vote of 271; Bryan received 176.
A Republican majority prevailed in both Houses of Congress, and “free
silver” was thus proved not so alluring as a national measure.
Where McKinley went, Mrs. McKinley usually accompanied him, and from
the time he was nominated she had little peace of mind. At his home,
when the news of his election was read, she was greatly distressed.
“Oh, Major, they will kill you, they will kill you!” she exclaimed.
He put his arm about her and turned to his guests and, smiling,
remarked, “This little woman is always afraid someone is going to harm
her husband.” His calm, loving touch reassured her in a measure, but
some of her friends have declared that she never really knew peace of
mind when he was out of her sight, for they were satisfied she had a
premonition of his fate.
Immediately upon his induction into office, President McKinley called
an extra session of Congress to revise the tariff. The passage of the
Dingley bill, levying higher taxes on some exports, bade fare to cover
the revenue situation.
The trouble with Spain became the centre of attention and soon reached
a point where action was necessary, as the island of Cuba was in a
chronic state of revolt, and rebellion had broken forth over the
failure of Spain to redeem her promises of self-government. President
McKinley strove to keep out of participation, but the hostility of the
Spanish on the island was so intense that all his advisers urged the
dispatch of a warship as a protective measure for American citizens. He
demanded that:
“In the name of humanity, in the name of civilization, in behalf of
endangered American interests, which give us the right and duty to
speak and to act, the war in Cuba must stop.”
Endeavouring to give every opportunity to Spain in her promises of
reform, the President held Congress in temporary control, while reams
of diplomatic correspondence were interchanged. In the midst of
these communications--characterized on the part of the President by
insistence upon new conditions and on the part of Spain by plausible
evasions and constant seeking for delay--the American battleship
_Maine_ was blown up in Havana Harbour and 266 men were murdered. From
that moment, a war with Spain was certain. The President found the
country unprepared for a conflict. He temporized Congress and dallied
with Spain, while the armouries worked day and night and warships were
gathered in American waters from all parts of the world. Meanwhile, a
month and seventeen days before war was declared, Congress placed in
the hands of the President, without restriction or condition, the sum
of $50,000,000. It was voted to him unanimously by both Houses, a mark
of personal confidence and an evidence of the patriotic extinction of
party lines in the face of a great emergency.
The war cloud burst, and in less than ninety days the skies were
cleared again. Cuba had been liberated, Porto Rico had been gathered
under the American flag, and, as an indirect but necessary result,
Hawaii had been annexed. All of these things were not to be compared
in importance, however, with the fact that the defeat of the Spanish
fleet in Manila Harbour by Commodore Dewey’s squadron had ousted the
Spanish from their possession of the Philippine Islands, a possession
which they had enjoyed for three centuries. The United States at once
became a world power in the Orient. All the other remarkable events
of McKinley’s administration--any one of which would have made it
memorable--pale into insignificance before this acquisition of a vast
archipelago, with 1,200 islands and 10,000,000 people, situated 7,000
miles from our shores.
President McKinley, overwhelmed with problems which would have crushed
a man of smaller calibre and less experience with national affairs,
met his new responsibilities with admirable courage. He did not act
hastily. On the contrary, one of the features of his administration was
the deliberation with which he developed his important policies, and
for which he was most bitterly criticized.
The Philippines presented from the first the most serious problem.
Situated on the other side of the world, populated largely by savage
races who maintained slaves and recognized polygamy, the Islands
nevertheless possessed large commercial value and were considered
important because of their situation on the threshold of the Orient.
The military administration which the President at once established
was not altogether satisfactory, and he sought the assistance of
distinguished civilians, appointed by him as commissioners, in devising
another form of government. The military transferred to the commission,
of which Hon. William H. Taft was president, all duties of a purely
legislative nature. To this commission the President outlined in great
detail a policy which promised much benefit to the Filipinos, assuring
them of the enjoyment of the privileges contained in the American
Constitution and promising them better educational facilities, the
development of their commerce, and all the blessings which are the
heritage of the American citizen.
The war with Spain and all of its brilliant exploits, brief as it
proved to be, has been ably and fully covered by historians and war
correspondents. The most interesting figure in the light of later
events was Colonel Theodore Roosevelt, with his picturesque Rough
Riders, in the assault and victory of San Juan Hill. The achievements
of Richmond P. Hobson, of Schley, of Sampson are all brilliant pages in
an epochal era of United States expansion.
Admiral Dewey’s victory at Manila Bay was celebrated on his return with
a remarkable ovation. Once again historic Pennsylvania Avenue resounded
to jubilation. Among the many functions given to the distinguished
naval officer was the one at the Metropolitan Club.
The story of the dinner, unique in many respects, is given herewith:
“Two years ago, when club man George Dewey, then a commodore in the
navy, was on the point of leaving Washington to assume command of the
Asiatic Squadron, some of his club mates at the Metropolitan Club gave
him a farewell dinner. Wines were drunk, toasts were made, the best
fellowship prevailed, and the memory of the jolly, happy faces of his
friends lingered in the mind of Dewey all through the stirring events
of the two years that elapsed before his return to his country.
“Last night at the Metropolitan Club the same coterie of friends
gave to Admiral Dewey a dinner of greeting. Upon the menu card was
the menu of the dinner held on the evening of November 27, 1897. On
another page of the card was identically the same menu, but underneath
was yesterday’s date. Five of those who were present at the farewell
dinner were absent last night. These were Mr. William H. Emory, Mr. E.
A. Garlington, Mr. Thomas Hyde, Mr. Nathan Sargent, and Mr. L. Vogel.
“The feature of the farewell dinner given at the Metropolitan Club
late in November, 1897, was a poem by Hon. Archibald Hopkins. The poem
was such an excellent one and proved so prophetic that it has been
quoted from one end of the country to the other.
“Very naturally, Mr. Hopkins was asked to contribute something for
the dinner of last evening, as well as to recite the original poem.
Immediately after the victory of Manila Bay, Mr. Hopkins wrote several
stanzas as a sequel to his effort of November, 1897. All these were
read and received with much enthusiasm by the company last evening. A
few of the stanzas are quoted:
‘What mean the crowds, the marching men,
The flags when he appears?
First, welcome to the Admiral; then
There rings through all the cheers
‘Not only praise for victory won;
There is an undertone
Exultant in new life, begun
Not for ourselves alone.
‘He left us but an outside power
’Mongst those that rule the world;
He made us, with the greatest, tower,
Where’er the flag’s unfurled.
‘Paul Jones a fighter unsurpassed,
Our Farragut beyond all praise,
And Dewey, from Manila last,
To share with them undying bays.
‘No heroes ever trod a deck,
Or sailed the rolling seas,
Through stress of battle, storm and wreck
More glorious than are these.
‘An epoch struck on Time’s great clock,
The day he won his fight;
Henceforth our Anglo-Saxon stock
Keep step for law and right.
‘Henceforth with kin beyond the sea,
We bid oppression die,
And pledge the better days to be
Where’er our standards fly.
‘The laurel with the vine is twined;
Give freest rain to cheer,
For fate is kind, we’ve dined and wined,
And got George Dewey here.
‘And now to make our toast complete,
It leaps to all your lips
Here’s to the captain of the fleet,
The men who fought the ships.
‘And fill us up one bumper more,
Till every glass o’erruns;
Drink, if you never drank before;
The men behind the guns.’
“The dinner last night was held in the upstairs banqueting hall of
the club, the same room in which the first dinner was given, and the
diners occupied the same relative places that had been assigned to
them two years ago around the same board. The table was a big round
one. It was decorated with myriads of fragrant blossoms, banked in the
centre of the table and strewn over the cloth. There were no other
decorations excepting on one wall of the room hung the wheel of the
Spanish ship the _Reina Christina_, which was lately sent to the club
as a memento of the May morning in Manila Bay.”
Although Clara Barton had been the “Angel of the Battlefield” through
the Civil War, when she started her great humanitarian career with
the care of the forty wounded soldiers of the Sixth Massachusetts
after the Baltimore fracas, and the good angel of Europe through the
Franco-Prussian War and the Commune, for which she was decorated by the
governments engaged, it was in the Spanish War that American soldiers
knew her best and where for the first time the Red Cross symbol and
service made its value known. Through her persistent efforts, the
famous “American Amendment” was added to the Geneva Treaty of the Red
Cross which was signed by President Arthur. The American Association
of Red Cross was organized in 1881 with Miss Barton as president, a
position she held until 1904. It was at President McKinley’s personal
request that she carried relief to Cuba and did personal field work
through the war. In his message of December 6, 1898, he expressed his
own appreciation and that of the American people for her service during
the Spanish-American War.
After peace was declared, the unfortunate controversy between Admirals
Schley and Sampson as to the credit for the victory of Santiago led
to a long investigation, the matter having been referred to a Court
of Inquiry, of which Admiral Dewey was the president. This Court held
daily sessions in a large building in the Navy Yard, and after forty
days of investigation and thorough consideration of all the points of
criticism, Admiral Dewey rendered the following opinion of the Court as
a summary of all the testimony taken:
“Commodore Schley, in command of the Flying Squadron, should have
proceeded with utmost dispatch off Cienfuegos and should have
maintained a close blockade of that port.
“He should have endeavoured on May 23, at Cienfuegos, to obtain
information regarding the Spanish squadron by communicating with the
insurgents at the place designated in the memorandum delivered to him
at 8:15 A. M. of that date.
“He should have proceeded from Cienfuegos to Santiago de Cuba with
all dispatch and should have disposed his vessels with a view to
intercepting the enemy in any attempt to pass the Flying Squadron.
“He should not have delayed the squadron for the _Eagle_.
“He should not have made the retrograde turn westward with his
squadron.
“He should have promptly obeyed the Navy Department’s order of May 25.
“He should have endeavoured to capture or destroy the Spanish vessels
at anchor near the entrance of Santiago Harbour on May 29 and 30.
“He did not do his utmost with the force under his command to capture
or destroy the _Colón_ and other vessels of the enemy which he
attacked on May 31.
“By commencing the engagement on July 3 with the port battery and
turning the _Brooklyn_ around with port helm Commodore Schley caused
her to lose distance and position with the Spanish vessels, especially
with the _Vizcaya_ and _Colón_.
“The turn of the _Brooklyn_ to starboard was made to avoid getting her
into dangerous proximity to the Spanish vessels. The turn was made
toward the _Texas_ and caused that vessel to stop and to back her
engines to avoid possible collision.
“Admiral Schley did injustice to Lieut. Commander A. C. Hodgson in
publishing only a portion of the correspondence which passed between
them.
“Commodore Schley’s conduct in connection with the events of the
Santiago campaign prior to June 1, 1898, was characterized by
vacillation, dilatoriness, and lack of enterprise.
“His official reports regarding the coal supply and the coaling
facilities of the Flying Squadron were inaccurate and misleading.
“His conduct during the battle of July 3 was self-possessed, and he
encouraged in his own person, his subordinate officers and men to
fight courageously.
“GEORGE DEWEY,
_Admiral, U. S. N., President_.
“SAM. C. LEMLY,
_Judge-Advocate-General, U. S. N., Judge-Advocate_.
“In the opinion of the undersigned, the passage from Key West to
Cienfuegos was made by the Flying Squadron with all possible dispatch,
Commodore Schley having in view the importance of arriving off
Cienfuegos with as much coal as possible in the ships’ bunkers.
“The blockade of Cienfuegos was effective.
“Commodore Schley in permitting the steamer _Adula_ to enter the port
of Cienfuegos expected to obtain information concerning the Spanish
Squadron from her when she came out.
“The passage from Cienfuegos to a point about 22 miles south of
Santiago was made with as much dispatch as was possible while keeping
the squadron a unit.
“The blockade of Santiago was effective.
“Commodore Schley was the senior officer of our squadron off Santiago
when the Spanish Squadron attempted to escape on the morning of July
3, 1898. He was in absolute command, and is entitled to the credit due
to such commanding officer for the glorious victory which resulted in
the total destruction of the Spanish ships.
“GEORGE DEWEY,
_Admiral, U. S. N., President_.
“SAM. C. LEMLY,
_Judge-Advocate-General, U. S. N., Judge-Advocate_.
“Recommendation
“In view of the length of time which has elapsed since the occurrence
of the events of the Santiago campaign, the Court recommends no
further proceedings be had in the premises.
“GEORGE DEWEY,
_Admiral, U. S. N., President_.
“SAM C. LEMLY,
_Judge-Advocate-General, U. S. N., Judge Advocate_.”
Garret A. Hobart, the genial Vice President, died on November 21, 1899.
With the approach of the election in 1900 the successful war President
had no opposition in the Republican Convention and was renominated,
with the Governor of New York, Theodore Roosevelt, as his reluctant
team mate. The Convention endorsed the administration.
Once more the Democratic Convention pinned its faith to William
Jennings Bryan by nominating him for President, with Adlai Stevenson,
Grover Cleveland’s Vice President, chosen for his former office. The
free coinage of silver was presented as part of the platform, but the
opposition to the expansion of United States territory was the policy
emphasized. McKinley and Roosevelt received 292 electoral votes to the
155 cast for Bryan and Stevenson. Thus, after four years crowded with
stirring events of national interest and vital importance, buffeted
between public sentiment and private conviction, President McKinley,
the triumphant war President, found himself again installed as the
people’s choice.
CHAPTER XI
SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF WILLIAM MCKINLEY
_March 4, 1901, to September 14, 1901_
The second inauguration of President McKinley was a wretched day, and
sleet and snow beat upon him as he took the oath of office. On the
way to the Capitol, Senator Mark Hanna rode by the President’s side.
Theodore Roosevelt took the oath as Vice President in the Senate
Chamber and made a brief address. Mrs. Roosevelt and the children
were present, as was Mrs. McKinley, who was escorted and cared for by
General Corbin. In the parade from the Capitol to the White House there
was for the first time representation from an American dependency. This
was a battalion of dark-skinned Porto Rican soldiers in Uncle Sam’s
uniform.
The President’s mother had passed away in December of the first year
of his term, and the absence of her proud, happy face was noted with a
surge of sympathy for her son, whose domestic life carried so much of
anxiety.
The procession duplicated the previous one in size and variety. The
President reviewed this procession, from within a large plate-glass
case put up to protect him from the inclement weather.
Callers filled the afternoon, and the ball and fireworks occupied the
evening.
The great ballroom of the Pension Building was again a garden of
tropical beauty, and was crowded to its utmost capacity. Mrs. McKinley,
whose frailty had at first threatened to prevent her attendance at
any of the ceremonies, was eager to go, and despite the disagreeable
weather attended the ball; but her limited strength made it advisable
to omit the Grand March through the ballroom. The President and his
wife therefore remained in their box only a short while, much to the
disappointment of the eager throng, who had hoped for a closer view
of the First Lady and her handsome gown of white satin and jewels.
Everything her sisters, sisters-in-law, and nieces and the ladies of
the Cabinet could do to make things easy for her was done.
Mrs. McKinley loved to drive, but the President rarely permitted her
to drive without him. Her delight in knitting never waned. It is said
that her nimble fingers knitted nearly four thousand pieces of dainty
bits of wool and silk--socks, mitts, bags, ties--all of which were made
for charity or for friends. Never was a request for a gift of her own
handiwork refused for fairs and bazaars.
Mrs. McKinley loved her friends. She was the personification of
gentleness and sweetness unless some criticism of her beloved “Major”
came to her ears. Then she lacked neither force nor spirit in her
defense of him.
Both she and the President loved music, singing particularly, and
the unusual musical entertainments which they held were frequent and
delightful.
As the first summer of the second term advanced, Mrs. McKinley became
so frail that a rolling chair was obtained for her use; she had come
to the point where she had to be carried bodily up and down in the
elevator. Owing to her critical condition, a trip to the Pacific Coast
had to be curtailed. She was, however, able to be brought to Canton,
where she recovered sufficiently to go to Buffalo with her husband, he
having accepted an invitation to attend the Pan-American Exposition
there. “President’s Day,” which was to feature his address, was set
for September 5th. He spoke, and received one long, delightful
ovation, the assembled crowds exerting themselves to shower upon him
their enthusiastic appreciation. The glamour of the war victory was
still upon him.
On the afternoon of the sixth, after the party’s return from their
visit to Niagara Falls, the President sent Mrs. McKinley to the home of
Mr. John G. Milburn, president of the Exposition, their host, to rest
from the fatigue of the morning, while he went to the Temple of Music
on the Exposition Grounds, where he was to hold a public reception.
About four o’clock, one of the individuals of a great throng that
was passing approached with his hand wrapped in a handkerchief. Mr.
McKinley smiled in his usual friendly fashion, extending his hand to
the stranger. Instantly, two loud reports of a pistol sounded sharp and
clear above the buzz of voices. After an instant of complete stunned
silence, during which the President looked pained and bewildered, he
straightened up, threw his head back, and staggered into the arms of
his secretary, George B. Cortelyou. He was led to a chair, where he
bowed his head in his hands.
The crowds burst forth into cries and curses as the realization was
borne in upon them that the President had been shot. He remained calm,
and begged them not to be alarmed, assuring those around him he was not
badly hurt. He opened his waistcoat and drew forth his hand daubed with
blood.
The scene that followed was frightful. Several men threw the assassin,
a Polish anarchist, a follower of the teachings of Emma Goldman, to the
ground, snatched away his pistol, and would have taken justice in their
own hands and executed him but for the feeble words of command from the
stricken President, “Let no one harm him.” He was locked up under heavy
guard.
The President was at once taken on a stretcher to the Emergency
Hospital in the grounds, and the best surgeons were summoned. The
examination disclosed the fact that the two shots fired at close range
had both found their mark: one struck him on the breastbone, and
glancing, had penetrated the stomach; the other had entered the abdomen.
In reply to their announcement that an immediate operation was
necessary, he calmly replied, “Gentlemen, do what in your judgment you
think best.”
After a half-hour operation the surgeons were unable to locate the
bullets. Preparations were made to take the mortally wounded man to the
Milburn home.
When it was long past the hour for the President to return, Mrs.
McKinley had grown anxious and nervous, for she feared some accident
had befallen him. While every effort had been made to keep her in
ignorance of the shooting, she had to be informed as the President was
being carried to the house. To everyone’s amazement, she took the news
quietly. Since her husband seemed uncomfortable at her absence from his
bedside, she was brought in.
Five days after the shooting, the physicians gave the impression that
he was out of danger and would probably recover. But all of the sixth
day he failed so perceptibly that Mrs. McKinley was led to his room
to take her farewell of the husband who for so many years had given
her the most constant, solicitous care. She kept calm and tearless
until she reached her own room, when her control gave way to grief,
heartrending, intense, and so absorbing that none could console her.
He grew weaker and repeated in his last period of consciousness words
from “Nearer, My God, to Thee,” then, a little later, “Good-bye,
all, good-bye. It is God’s way; His will be done.” The periods of
consciousness lapsed, and at two fifteen on September 14th he passed
away in a peaceful sleep.
The body of President McKinley was brought to Washington and placed in
the East Room of the White House, while a guard of honour maintained a
vigil until it was carried to the Capitol for the state funeral, after
which the funeral cortège started for Canton, where interment took
place on September 19, 1901.
The grief of the nation was universal, and from coast to coast, every
possible expression of love and honour and grief was given.
From out of the depths of the national sorrow came a resolve to pursue
a different course with this wretched murderer who felt proud of his
deed. It was determined that his punishment should be swift and sure
and that his act should be made hideous in the eyes of the world,
and robbed of the limelight and publicity that had gratified the
perverted vanity of his predecessors in presidential murder. His name
was to perish from the record of men. He was a Polish anarchist who
had no grievance whatsoever against the nation of our President save
that aroused by the destructive doctrines that he had imbibed. He was
promptly tried, condemned to death, and executed in the state prison at
Auburn, on October 29, 1901, within a few weeks after the commission of
his crime.
From the hand of Mark Hanna, McKinley’s closest personal friend,
political adviser, and campaign manager, came a remarkable tribute
to the character of the martyred President which sums up his public
and private life in a graphic and colourful picture and presents him
as only one so intimately associated with him could. Copied from the
Washington _Post_, it reads:
“The one absorbing purpose in William McKinley’s political career was
to keep closely in touch with the people, so that he might promote
their material and moral welfare.
“He seemed to study and watch current events as a barometer, gauging
the growth of public sentiment keenly and particularly watching the
development of the new industries and new resources. He accentuated
the American idea in everything he undertook.
“There was something sublime in the way in which he viewed his defeat
in the tariff reform cyclone of 1892. I often discussed the situation
with him--and then we talked of the ‘McKinley bill.’ I remember how
his eyes sparkled when it was suggested that his bill was the sole
cause of the Republican defeat, and how he deliberated a statement to
me with an air of prophecy:
“‘That may have been so, but the bill was passed so short a time
prior to election that it was easy for our opponents to make charges
and there was no time for us to combat them; but wait and see,
Mark--wait and see. The principles and policies of that bill will yet
win a greater victory for our party than we have ever had before.
This misunderstanding will yet contribute to overwhelming Republican
success.’
“The general conditions were such, however, that the party’s reverse
could not be attributed entirely to the McKinley bill. There were
other factors in the landslide of 1892.
“During the early part of the campaign of 1896, the charge was made
that McKinley voted for the free coinage of silver. And with his
usual candour he admitted that in the earlier stages of the agitation
of the money question it was to him then a proposition he had not
fully investigated; he did not pretend to be a doctor of finance and
had followed the popular trend of that time. After fuller discussion
and practical demonstration of facts; after observing the changing
conditions of the country and weighing the question in its various
relations to the fundamental laws of practical finance and the true
policy best for the country, his conclusions were voiced in the St.
Louis platform of 1896.
“The last discussion that I had with him upon the money question
before he was nominated was a few days before I left for St. Louis, at
my office in Cleveland.
“He turned to my desk, sat down, and wrote in lead pencil an article
which he handed me when finished, saying:
“‘There, Mark, are my ideas of what our platform should be on the
money question.’
“I carried the paper in my pocket to St. Louis some days before the
convention, and that declaration of William McKinley contained in
substance what was afterward drafted into the plank in the platform on
that question. I mention this because in subsequent discussion a great
deal has been said about the construction of that plank in the St.
Louis platform on the tariff and money question.
“This absolute declaration was given me by Maj. McKinley as embracing
his ideas, and while the language may have been changed somewhat,
the meaning of the article he wrote weeks before the convention was
absolutely followed in the platform of 1896.
“As to the quality of his courage--I never knew a man more fearless.
In the dark days of the Ohio gerrymander, when, as author of the
McKinley bill, he lost his seat in Congress, he was cheerful, in a
defeat that had cut a Democratic majority of 2,000 down to 300. He had
fought an uphill fight, and, although defeated, was elated over the
confidence which his home people expressed in the principles which
he represented. The defeat had no depressing effect on his mind and
energies, but spurred him to greater effort. And in every serious
emergency that confronted him he was prepared for the event--always
calm and courageous. Even amid the onslaughts of campaign abuse, he
never uttered in my presence one retaliatory word, but always referred
to the enemy as ‘our opponents,’ while I must confess I used stronger
adjectives at times.
“There was nothing that he enjoyed more than a social time with
friends at dinner. He always entered into the spirit of the occasion
and contributed his full share of merriment. And once aroused he
showed a side of his character that few were acquainted with. He
enjoyed jokes to the full measure, and was a pleasant tease. When he
once had a joke on me he rung all the changes; and no one enjoyed a
joke on himself more thoroughly than he did.
“In 1897, when I was a tenderfoot, recently arrived in Washington, he
asked me to give up a dinner engagement with some gentlemen to fill
up the table as an emergency man at a dinner to be given at the White
House that night. I declined, saying I had a better thing--not knowing
that an invitation from the White House was equivalent to a social
command. This joke on me was a delight to him.
“When he was a guest at my house for several days, or a member of
a house party, his flow of genial spirits began at the breakfast
table and continued uninterrupted all day. He seemed to feel as if
he were on a vacation, and had the joyous spirit of a big boy home
from school, always looking after the comfort of others, with never,
apparently, a thought for himself. An ideal home body was William
McKinley, and the American fireside was a shrine of worship with him.
“At one of our house parties we had a flashlight photograph taken of
the dinner guests. He was particularly fond of this dinner picture
because it contained a splendid likeness of Mrs. McKinley.
“When McKinley laughed, he laughed heartily all over, and was a
perfect boy in his enjoyment. In all the social visits to my home it
was an inspiration to me to see the way he could throw off the cares
of the day. It always made me feel twenty years younger to spend a
social evening with him, and I cannot begin to measure the depth and
value of this friendship, to me, entirely aside from his public career.
“He was never much inclined, I believe, to take an active part in
athletics, though his simple, normal habits of life kept him always in
excellent condition physically and mentally. He proved the enduring
sturdiness of his frame by his hard service in the Civil War and by
the tremendous amount of labour which he afterward put into the study
and presentation of public questions. He was, of course, interested
in the notable athletic contests that the college boys held, but it
was as late as 1894 that he and I witnessed together our first game of
football--a Princeton-Yale game at New York.
“It was a drizzling, cold day, but he watched every movement of the
game from the clubhouse with as keen an interest as he gave to a
debate in Congress.
“When some mysterious movement in a ‘pile up’ was made, he would turn
and ask me about it, but I had to shake my head and confess it was my
first game and that it was all Greek to me.
“He told me how he felt like the country boy who went to a college
football game for the first time, to see the ‘real thing.’ When asked
how he liked it, the country boy naïvely replied:
“‘They didn’t have no game; they got into a scrap and kept fightin’
all the time when they ought to have been playin ball.’
“At this football game there was little to foreshadow what was written
on the political horizon two years later, but I do recall that he
seemed to be especially popular with the sturdy young collegians, one
of whom remarked to his companion as they passed by us:
“‘Who is that distinguished-looking man--the one that looks like
Napoleon?’
“The late President was particularly fond of a good play, and when he
would come to stay with me at Cleveland overnight, he would always
inquire:
“‘Is there anything good at your opera house to-night, Mark?’
“We enjoyed many pleasant evenings together. He delighted in meeting
the prominent actors and was very fond of Joseph Jefferson. Many an
hour have they chatted together, and Jefferson never failed to call
and see him when in Washington. Sol Smith Russell was another friend.
The drama of high standard was to him a relief from worriments of the
day and thoroughly enjoyed as a relaxation. He delighted to discuss
with these play folks their art, and how actors, like men in public
life, had to cater to public wishes, and how much their influence
meant in producing plays of healthful purpose and moral teaching. Mrs.
McKinley was also very fond of the theatre; he always delighted to
indulge her, and they spent many happy evenings together witnessing
the best plays that were on the boards.
“He never tired of seeing Jefferson in ‘Rip Van Winkle’ and ‘The
Cricket on the Hearth,’ which were undoubtedly his favourite plays.
“‘Mark, you meet as many distinguished men as owner of an opera
house as you do as Senator,’ he would jokingly remark after a chat
with an actor. He always seemed to have a keen scent for talent in
any profession and was quick to recognize genius. The psychological
study the actor made in portraying human nature before the footlights
was to him fascinating. The personality of these men on the stage he
believed had a potent influence on the public mind. He never tired of
high-class dramas; he was especially fond of Shakespeare’s plays, and
always attended thoroughly ‘read up.’ He would often chide me for not
being more thoroughly posted on the original Shakespearean text, but I
was more concerned in the play as staged.
“How well I remember how he enjoyed witnessing the play entitled
‘The Politician’ during his second campaign for Governor of Ohio. We
sat together in a box. Roland Reed, who played the ‘Politician,’ and
who is now dead, directed his remarks straight at us, and McKinley
enjoyed his hits immensely. The actor brought in impromptu points and
so generously improvised the speaking part that it seemed as if the
actors and audience were having an ‘aside’ all to themselves at our
expense.
“A man of more generous impulses than William McKinley never lived.
When cases were presented to him for relief that were beyond his
ability to meet, he would apply to me or some of his friends for
assistance in aiding worthy persons, and his friends were always
glad to respond to these appeals. He was liberal without stint. It
gave him actual pain to see anyone suffering or in distress, and on
such occasions showed his great faith in friendship, never hesitating
to go to any bounds in an appeal for others. Whatever he had in his
pocket, whether it was 10 cents or $10, he was always ready to give it
to relieve distress. If the applicant only required 50 cents and the
Major had $10 in his pocket, the applicant would get the $10. He did
not know such a thing as taking change from charity.
“Though he had no especial training in music, no person was more
partial to it than William McKinley. And his tastes were as catholic
as a child’s. Anything, from a hurdy-gurdy to a grand opera, pleased
him. He would keep his hands or feet beating time whenever there was
music about him. I recall many Sunday evening home concerts. Everyone
was singing, and he would call for ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee,’ and
‘Lead, Kindly Light.’ The radiance of his face when he sang those old
favourite hymns, as if his whole soul was in it, is to me a sacred
memory picture of William McKinley.
“He would urge me to try to sing, and insisted I had a sweet tenor
voice, but the pleasant charm of the happy occasions was never marred
by my vocal efforts.
“I knew I could not sing, but I listened; the echoes of those happy
hours will linger with me as long as I live. The little singing
parties in our parlour after dinner were always his delight.
“I got the closest revelations of William McKinley’s character, I
think, in our quiet hours of smoking and chatting, when all the
rest had retired. Far past midnight we have sat many times talking
over those matters which friends always discuss--and the closer
I came to the man the more lovable his character appeared. Every
time we met there was revealed the gentle, growing greatness of
a man who knew men, respected them, and loved them. Never was it
the personal interests of William McKinley that he discussed, but
those of friends, or his party, and above all, of the people. His
clear-cut conscientiousness was pronounced. In these heart-to-heart
talks--friend to friend--in the calm serenity of the night’s quiet
hours, we felt the ties of our life’s friendship growing stronger as
we simply sat and puffed and looked in each other’s faces. These home
smoke chats are the treasured memories of a man who loved mankind
much more than he did himself, and who had consecrated his career
to the people. He always was interested in business and industrial
affairs, and understood them as few men did in their relation to the
home comforts and happiness of the American people. It was in these
quiet hours together that the splendid devotion of the man to high
and noble ideals showed clearest. I think that a reminiscent glance
at our smoke-chat meetings night after night, wherever we chanced to
be, reveals to me most freely the great qualities in the man which the
world had so profoundly honoured. I can see that kindly, quizzical
look in his deep blue eyes under his bushy eyebrows, when he broke the
silence after meditating:
“‘Mark, this seems to be right and fair and just. I think so, don’t
you?’ His ‘don’t you?’ or, ‘did you?’ always had a tone that invited
candid confidence, and this is a peculiarity that brings back to my
memory some incidents of our acquaintanceship in early years and
seemed to foreshadow his future.
“Looking back over the long years of association with William
McKinley, nothing seems to stand out more prominently than the hearty
and sunny way in which he always enjoyed the friendly hours of
recreation. These pleasant episodes of a purely personal nature are
emphasized more and more as I think of him, and it is these that I
most cherish in the memory of the man. His greatness as a statesman
was but the reflection of his greatness as a man.
“William McKinley was faultless in his friendships.”
Mrs. McKinley survived her husband several years. She died at her
Canton, Ohio, home in 1907.
CHAPTER XII
FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT
_September 14, 1901, to March 4, 1905_
Vice President Theodore Roosevelt was away in the New York mountains
with his family on a camping and hunting trip when news reached him
of the shooting of President McKinley. He arrived at Buffalo the next
day. Owing to the hopeful view taken by the physicians regarding the
President’s condition and the prevalent belief that he would recover,
the Vice President returned to the mountains to resume his outing, and
when Secretary Cortelyou sent the telegram--
“The President’s condition has changed for the worse.”
followed a few hours later by another--
“Come at once.”
he was miles out of reach of telegraph on top of Mount Marcy. A guide
finally found him, and he set out at once, to make the journey as
quickly as possible, by horseback, buckboard, and special train. Before
he had covered half the journey, the President was dead and Buffalo was
a dark, silent, sorrowing city.
On Saturday afternoon, September 14, 1901, at the residence of Ansley
Wilcox, Colonel Roosevelt took the oath of office as twenty-sixth
President in the presence of the members of the Cabinet who were in the
city at that time with Judge John R. Hazel, United States district
judge officiating. The new President, with deep emotion, very briefly
pledged himself to carry out the policies of his predecessor:
“In this hour of deep and terrible bereavement, I wish to state
that it shall be my aim to continue absolutely unbroken the policy
of President McKinley for the peace, prosperity, and honour of our
country.”
He was then within two months of being forty-three years of age, the
youngest man who had ever assumed presidential duties.
By October he had his family installed in the White House. The advent
of a family of children was welcomed by the people. It was the largest
group of youngsters since Garfield’s occupancy, four boys and two
girls. The eldest at once won the public and was dubbed “Princess
Alice.” The boys, Theodore, Archie, Kermit, and Quentin, were placed
in the public schools, while Ethel attended the Cathedral School
for girls. The experiences, exploits, and performances of the young
Roosevelts furnished a joyous chapter to White House history, for they
fully lived up to all that was expected of them, and their doings
throughout their life in Washington found a responsive, sympathetic
note of understanding in the hearts of boys and girls of America.
Mrs. Roosevelt assumed her new duties with the quiet dignity and
pleasant manner which were always characteristic of her. The best part
of her life had been spent in official circles through the various
positions which the Colonel had filled, and she had acquired the art
of always giving the impression of being interested and pleased in the
affairs of the moment whether she really felt so or not. This charm of
manner made her receptions popular and well attended.
President Roosevelt’s career as Civil Service Commissioner and
Assistant Secretary of the Navy, his efficiency and gallantry at San
Juan Hill, which had brought him the governorship of New York, his
well-known reluctance at being shelved into the vice presidency, all
served to invest him with an unusual hold upon the interest of the
public, apart from the magnetism of his own dynamic personality. Crowds
such as the White House had never before witnessed, except on special
occasions, made the President’s office their daily objective.
His first public reception, New Year’s Day of 1902, drew an
unprecedented multitude, 8,100 people passing in line to shake his hand
and to be presented to the new First Lady and the Cabinet ladies.
Mrs. Roosevelt had tabooed the handshaking for herself early in her
husband’s official life at the gubernatorial mansion in New York.
Although warned that this exhausting ordeal was expected of her, she
managed its omission with the graceful tact that served her so well
later for the seven and a half years of White House leadership. Instead
of wearing a floral corsage she had simply carried a large bouquet, and
no one ever thought she should lay it aside to shake hands.
Five days after the reception, Mrs. Roosevelt introduced Miss Alice,
just budding into womanhood, to society, at a most delightful reception
and dance at which an elaborate buffet supper was served. Almost
immediately she became the White House belle, with enough attention
to turn her head completely. Every step was watched, and every act
coloured and exaggerated, until simple girlish fun with her young
companions was made to assume all sorts of ludicrous and absurd guises,
for it must always be remembered that this slip of a girl was her
father’s daughter, with his love of the outdoors and of all clean
sport. To ride horseback hard and fast as their father and their
brothers, to shoot straight, swim, drive, walk, and play every game to
win, with all the concentrated energy and knowledge they possessed, had
been instilled into the two Roosevelt daughters. Naturally, applied
to the diversities of the social game, this sort of inherited dynamic
force gave abundant food for discussion of the young dêbutante whose
daily activities, daring and bizarre as some of them were, would have
created but little attention had she not been a Roosevelt and in the
White House.
It had long been an accepted fact that the White House had become
inadequate for the official entertaining, and still more so as a
residence for a fair-sized family. Though many White House mistresses
had cogitated on ideas of remodelling, Mrs. Harrison having left a
splendid plan for this, it was not until 1902 that Congress made the
appropriation of $65,196 for the necessary repairs. Work began almost
at once that enlarged, renovated, and beautified the building. Two
connecting wings were added, one of which took the office and its
growing staff away from the house altogether. While the work was being
done, the President occupied a house on Jackson Place, now the home of
the Women’s City Club, as the temporary White House.
[Illustration: THEODORE ROOSEVELT AND HIS FAMILY
As they appeared when he became President.]
In the summer of 1902, President Roosevelt decided to make a tour of
New England for about ten days. On the last day of this junket, a
collision between a trolley car and the vehicle containing his party
resulted in the instant death of one of the White House Secret Service
men, affectionately known as “Big Bill Craig,” who was seated with the
driver, and injuries to the President and to Secretary Cortelyou. The
uncertainty over the extent of the President’s injuries and the lack of
details of the accident, owing to the fact that the conveyance with
the newspaper men had been separated from the party and no members of
the press were at hand, caused the greatest excitement and alarm when
rumours of the accident reached New York and Washington. The Associated
Press rushed its Washington representative from New York to Oyster Bay
in a spectacular dash against time. Upon Mr. Roosevelt’s arrival at
home, long delayed, he received the representative of the Associated
Press at Sagamore Hill at ten o’clock that night, and despite a swollen
lip, injured hand, leg, and various severe and painful bruises, he
paced up and down his library floor and dictated the story of the
accident, refusing, however, to allow the account to carry his name.
He had already planned a series of trips he intended making, and as
the next on the list was to attend a labour convention at Chattanooga
during September, he decided to accede to the demand of his home folks
and family acquaintances to receive them before his next departure.
Accordingly, one Saturday afternoon, early in September of 1902,
President and Mrs. Roosevelt invited their neighbours and friends
to a reception at Sagamore Hill. All day long the trains and boats
poured out a stream of “neighbours.” It seemed as though everybody on
the Sound were coming to pay his respects to the “Colonel” and Mrs.
Roosevelt.
The horror of the days at Buffalo of the year before was still upon
officials, and the appearance in the vicinity of the summer White House
of several suspicious-looking characters rumoured to be anarchists
brought about the swearing in as deputy sheriffs of five or six hundred
citizens, among them the newspaper men stationed in the little town;
sixty New York policemen were also added to the staff about the house.
About three o’clock, the procession began its winding journey to
the home on top of the hill. Carriages were stopped some distance
down the drive, and all occupants required to complete the distance
afoot. Coats, shawls, umbrellas, parasols, cameras, lunch boxes,
even bouquets, were all scrutinized, and all belongings not actually
attached to their owners were required to be deposited under a tree
on the lawn. The consequent confusion arising when departing guests
tried to redeem their belongings was the only flaw in an otherwise
perfect day. These extreme measures were simply in obedience to orders
to allow no one to approach the President save with hands exposed and
unencumbered. Every precaution was taken to prevent a repetition of the
tragedy of the previous year. Threatening letters had added to this
fear, which was never absent from Mrs. Roosevelt’s mind. Even parents
carrying children were required to show their hands.
A double line of Secret Service men stationed themselves ahead of the
President, and as each person came up, he was subjected to double
scrutiny. Standing at the President’s side was another guard and
protector, whose purpose was not generally known. This was Theodore,
Junior, who had armed himself with a pistol, and during the entire
afternoon kept his hand in his pocket and his finger upon the trigger,
ready for the slightest suspicious move toward his idolized father. He
was the object of grave concern to the Secret Service, and of a certain
grim amusement to his father, whose reliance upon his son’s judgment
was not shared by the others.
No reception of President Roosevelt in Washington equalled this one
in all of the elements of human interest. Men and women whom he had
not seen in many years came in droves, and his delight in meeting them
was genuine and spontaneous. Mrs. Roosevelt at his side shared his
pleasure. Did she turn to speak to one of her receiving party for a
minute, she was at once recalled enthusiastically to meet some old
acquaintance. Once everyone’s attention was centred upon a smallish
unpretentious individual, who was greeted thus: “Bless my soul, it’s
Jake!” and Jake, red of face, beaming with joy, was dumb with delight.
In one of the short lulls, the President told some of the porch party
of Jake:
“When I was like Ted,” indicating his eldest son, “I roamed these
woods and swamps during holidays and week ends, hunting and fishing.
My father engaged Jake as a sort of guide and guardian, to see that I
did not get lost or hurt, and that I turned up at home on schedule.
Jake and I and the boys who went along had many good times. He used
to make us the most delicious ‘Squawk Pie.’ Delicious on a cold day
around a camp fire, when you are a boy, tired and hungry! Of course,
you don’t know what ‘Squawk Pie’ is!--made out of young, tender swamp
herons--regular hunters’ pie--bully!” He laughed reminiscently, glanced
out to the side of the house, where Jake was already surrounded by his
three younger boys, and resumed his place.
A few seconds later, the whole line was stopped while he and Mrs.
Roosevelt greeted two elderly women, one of whom had been his nurse and
had brought with her a picture of him when he was five years old. Such
a warm, friendly greeting as those two received! They were repaid for
the journey of several hundred miles made to bring this little reminder
of his childhood. They were taken back into the house and treated with
that delightful democratic courtesy so characteristic of this family.
A group of Hungarians brought a beautiful hand-wrought lamp, which,
after it had been examined, they were allowed to present to the
President.
For three hours, this moving pageant of humanity, beaming with pleasure
and admiration and frankly curious of the man himself, filed past him.
To each and every one was given that individualistic greeting that was
one of his many claims to popularity. As the visitors left the other
side of the porch, they were served with raspberry shrub, each person
being presented with the little crystal punch cup from which he drank
and on which were written the words, “Theodore Roosevelt, 1902.”
The next day, Sunday, everyone in Oyster Bay went to church and
gathered about the little church attended by the President. From dawn,
police and Secret Service men had been scouring the vicinity for the
pair of strangers, alleged anarchists, who had appeared in the town the
day before. The air was tense with expectancy and dread. The Roosevelt
pew was occupied by the President and his wife and part of their
family. As the sermon progressed and lost some of the pathos of its
memorial to Mr. McKinley in its tribute to the new ruler, likened to
“a young David raised to lead his people,” the President’s countenance
flushed with displeasure. His wife’s hand upon his arm restrained any
budding impulse to rise or leave.
When the congregation knelt to pray, those seated in the rear of
the Roosevelt pew enjoyed the reassuring and edifying spectacle of
a formidable revolver protruding from the hip pocket of the Chief
Executive.
A trip to Chattanooga will never be forgotten by some of the army
officers and other members of the party, who failed in keeping up,
either riding or walking, with their athletic, enthusiastic leader, to
whom fatigue seemed an unknown sensation.
The next scheduled trip was to Omaha, Nebr., but it ended at
Indianapolis, as the President was there forced to undergo an
operation of bone scraping as the result of the injury to his leg in
the Pittsfield accident of the late summer. While not alarming, the
operation carried an element of danger that kept the nation on the _qui
vive_ until complete convalescence was assured.
The state receptions of 1902 and 1903 were significant for their size
and brilliance, as were all of those in the succeeding four years.
To each came many of the great social and financial leaders of New
York, who had never previously considered these official White House
functions of sufficient importance for their attendance. But all
through the Roosevelt régime the entertainments were distinguished by
the presence of more of the national celebrities in arts, letters,
sciences, finance, and social eminence than had ever been seen in
Washington in such numbers before. The reason for this was due not
merely to the long-established social position of the President and his
wife, but to the personality of the many-sided Executive who touched
more different kinds of people in a wider range of activities than had
any of his predecessors. He was thoroughly versed in a greater variety
of subjects and had the faculty of getting the measure of a project,
whether it related to politics, invention, exploration, religion,
navigation, finance, agriculture, mining, sport, or diplomacy, in a
shorter time, with fewer words, than any other public man of his day.
Furthermore, his mind absorbed information with sponge-like avidity
and possessed a trained quality of retaining the needed amount of
detail for the complete picture of the enterprise, project, or policy
to remain in a photographic clearness and enabled him to discuss his
problems with amazing comprehension. He had a positive genius for study
and research, and a gift for eliminating the non-essentials from his
mental storehouse.
President Roosevelt handled his problems in a direct, fearless manner,
and he accepted the attacks and criticisms hurled at him in a fearless
attitude that enabled him to capitalize on his opposition. He started
some reforms and innovations that contributed greatly to his working
schedule, because he felt he had to keep abreast of public opinion.
To one clerk was assigned the task of daily skimming through between
three and five hundred newspapers and clipping therefrom every article
commenting on or relating in any way, complimentary or otherwise, to
the administration and its policies. These were classified and pasted
into reference scrapbooks for the President’s perusal.
The winter of 1903 brought many interesting events. “Princess Alice”
received an invitation brought by Prince Henry of Prussia from the
German Emperor to christen his yacht, then under construction in this
country. She accepted, and on February 25th, at Shooter’s Island,
performed the little ceremony. Some time later, she received a handsome
bracelet from Germany with a miniature of the Emperor surrounded by
diamonds.
In order to keep himself evenly balanced in his strenuous days of
constructive and routine work, the President sent for the director of
the New York Athletic Club, Mike Donovan, to come down, test him out,
and make a survey of his physical condition. Donovan came as to any
of his pupils; and as his coming was the establishment of a brand-new
precedent, there was a great furore. The President decided to have
Donovan repeat the visit at least twice a year. Donovan gave a little
account of the “interview” with the President of the United States,
which appeared in the New York _World_ and other publications at the
time:
“Had President Roosevelt come to the prize ring instead of the
political arena, it is my conviction he would have been successful.
The man is a born fighter. It’s in his blood.
“It is no exaggeration when I say that in some mix-ups with him I have
been compelled to resort to all the arts and devices that have come
to me from years of serious fighting, often to slug right and left to
save myself.
“I have a vivid recollection of my first fistic encounter with
President Roosevelt. The Governor left me in the old billiard room
of the executive mansion, at Albany, which he had fitted up as a
gymnasium for his boys in order that they might begin their physical
education under his eyes. He then went downstairs to don his boxing
clothes. In a few minutes he returned.
“It was the Governor of the State of New York who had left me. It was
the fighting man who entered the room. He wore a sleeveless flannel
shirt, his khaki rough-rider uniform trousers and light canvas shoes
without heels. First I was struck by the expression of his eyes,
which are large, light blue, placed well apart--aggressive, fearless,
persistent.
“He is about 5 feet 8 inches in height, but his great breadth of
shoulders and bulk of body made him seem shorter. His arms are short,
but heavy and well muscled. His head is that of the typical fighter.
It is broad and symmetrical, poised on a powerful neck. A plumb-line
could be dropped from the back of his head to his waist. That
formation shows not only the fighting spirit, but the physical vigour
to sustain it. His short, thick body, with its high arched chest, is
certainly set on unusually strong, sinewy legs.
“After pulling on his gloves he stepped forward on the mat. Most
men on coming for the first time to box with a champion, present or
retired, show some trepidation. There was none of that here.
“After we shook hands I studied him carefully. Then I led a left
jab, following it up with a faint-hearted right that landed like a
love-tap high up on his cheek. He dropped his hands and stopped.
“‘Look here, Mike,’ he said indignantly, ‘that is not fair.’
“I was afraid I had done something wrong.
“‘What’s the matter, Governor?’ I asked.
“‘You are not hitting me,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’d like you to
hit out.’
“‘All right, Governor,’ I said, thinking to myself, this man has a
pretty good opinion of himself.
“We started in again, and I sent in a hard right to the body as he
rushed in and then tried a swinging left for the jaw. He stepped
inside and drove his right to my ear. It jarred me down to the heels.
“I realized from that moment that the Governor was no ordinary
amateur. If I took chances with him I was endangering my reputation.
“From that day I have taken no chance with Theodore Roosevelt with the
gloves. I’ve hit him many times as hard as ever I hit a fighter in the
ring without stopping him, and thousands know how hard I can hit.
“I want to say, now, that I never saw him wince or show even by
an involuntary sign that he was discomfited in spirit, no matter
how severe the bodily pain. On the contrary, it met with only that
characteristic turning of the head a bit to the side, a grim smile,
and a determined setting of the bulldog jaw, followed by another rush.
Theodore Roosevelt is a strong, tough man; hard to hurt and harder to
stop.
“On the evening of March 3, 1905, the day before the Inauguration,
between 5 and 6 o’clock, the President and I had a go of ten rounds.
He was happy as a schoolboy as he stripped for the fray.
“‘Now, Mike,’ he said, ‘we must have a good bout this evening. It will
brighten me up for to-morrow, which will be a trying day.’
“We boxed for ten hard, long rounds. He had improved so much in his
practice with me that I had to resort to all the strategy that my
experience had taught me. After the fifth round, I felt like calling
a halt, but did not want to appear a quitter. We were having it hot
and heavy. In an exchange I tried to land a right-hand body blow,
ducking to avoid a left-hand counter. Instead, he struck me a flush
right-hander on the top of my head, knocking me sprawling to the mat.
As I got to my feet, he said:
“‘That’s a good make-believe knock-down, Mike.’ Evidently he did not
realize how hard he hit me.”
The President decided wrestling would be beneficial and engaged in that
sport several times a week. He also acquired the art of jujutsu. In a
note to one of his boys, he referred to this Japanese art:
“I am very glad I have been doing this ... but ... I am not at all
sure I shall ever try it again while I am so busy with other work as
I am now. Often by the time I get to five o’clock in the afternoon I
will be feeling like a stewed owl, after eight hours’ grapple with
Senators, Congressmen, etc., then I find the wrestling a trifle too
vehement for mere rest. My right ankle and my left wrist and one thumb
and both great toes are swollen sufficiently to more or less impair
their usefulness, and I am well mottled with bruises elsewhere. Still
I have made good progress, and since you left they have taught me
three new throws that are perfect corkers.”
He also took up fencing; he engaged in all of these sports and
exercises with either General Leonard Wood or his own boys.
In April, 1903, the President, with a party of twenty-seven
selected and invited by himself, started on the long-postponed and
often-discussed trip to the Pacific Coast. The party left on the
morning of April 1st and returned after sixty-five days of almost
continuous travel on the evening of June 5th. On this trip, the
travellers experienced every kind of climate, saw every type of
vegetation, and met every class of people in the United States. The
itinerary covered 13,955 miles, 23 states, and 136 cities.
On his return to Washington, the President was given a tremendous
reception by the people of the Capital. Crowds lined both sides of
Pennsylvania Avenue and cheered as he rode from the station to the
White House.
President Roosevelt’s first administration accomplished a number of
important projects. His term opened with his interest centred in
the creation of a Department of Commerce and Labour, also of the
establishment of forest reserves and the irrigation of the dry or
arid land by the government. The Canal across the Isthmus of Panama
long under discussion and partially under construction became a
reality after Congress authorized the purchase of the French holdings
for $40,000,000, and after a revolution in Colombia resulted in the
establishment of the Republic of Panama in November, 1903, which was
recognized by the United States Government a few days later and a
treaty signed containing more liberal terms than the one rejected by
Colombia. Dr. W. C. Gorgas applied the discoveries of the Spanish War
to the problem of the yellow fever, and American sanitary science made
the completion of the Canal possible without the scourges of diseases
of past years.
President Roosevelt was unanimously nominated for President in June,
1904, by the Republican National Convention held at Chicago. No Vice
President who ever succeeded to the Presidency on the death of a
chosen President had ever stood so strong with the people. He made no
speeches during the campaign, remaining most of the time at his summer
home at Oyster Bay, holding frequent conferences with party leaders.
Judge Alton B. Parker, the Democratic candidate for President, having
made charges in speeches delivered shortly before the election, that
the Republican campaign committee had received vast contributions of
money from trust companies in return for favours done them by Chairman
Cortelyou when he was Secretary of Commerce and Labour, the President,
three days before the election, issued from the White House a vigorous
denial of the charges, challenging Judge Parker to produce the proof.
It was in this statement that the President employed the famous “square
deal” term, ending his defense of Chairman Cortelyou with these words:
“All I ask is a square deal. Give every man a fair chance; don’t let
anyone harm him, and don’t let him do harm to anyone.”
In November, he was elected by the largest electoral vote ever given a
nominee for the Presidency up to that time.
CHAPTER XIII
SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT
_March 4, 1905, to March 4, 1909_
Roosevelt’s inauguration on March 4, 1905, was more the inauguration
of Theodore Roosevelt, the man, than the installation of a new
President of the United States. No President since Abraham Lincoln had
possessed such a unique personality. His national following was amply
demonstrated by the unequalled vote of the electoral college and by the
popular majority which exceeded 2,500,000, and it is the common belief
that curiosity to a phenomenal degree drew the hosts of visitors to the
city to witness the ceremonies and to see this man for themselves. The
day dawned with the promise of fair weather, and the fluttering mass
of flags and banners made the Avenue a brilliant pathway of gorgeous
colour.
Rough Riders, Grand Army Veterans, and Spanish War Veterans formed the
personal escort to the Capitol, led by Lieutenant General Chaffee,
Grand Marshal of the parade, whose colour bearers attracted special
interest. They were the sons and grandsons of men distinguished in the
annals of American military and naval history. They were selected from
West Point and Annapolis, and nearly all of them were descendants of
army and navy officers who had won distinguished honours fighting for
their country. Those from the West Point Military Academy were: Sherman
Miles, son of General Miles; Adna R. Chaffee, son of Lieutenant
General Chaffee; Calvin P. Titus, the first American soldier to scale
the wall at the siege of Peking, China, appointed cadet-at-large by
President McKinley, and Cadet Gatewood. Those representing Annapolis
were: Midshipman Stephen Decatur, descendant of Commodore Decatur;
Midshipman Beauregard, grandson of the Confederate General; Midshipman
Davis, son of Rear Admiral Davis; Midshipman Early, son of the
Confederate General, Jubal A. Early.
A vast array of civic and military organizations reinforced the escort.
The whole length of the way was packed with crowds of cheering,
applauding citizens eager to honour the new President.
After the last bills were signed, the President went to the Senate
Chamber to attend the services for the installation of the Vice
President, Charles Warren Fairbanks, and the swearing in of the new
Senators. Here the scene was most impressive. The Senate Chamber was
packed with spectators and legislators. A brilliant assemblage of
diplomats from all quarters of the globe was present, most of whom
appeared in full court costume, and the Supreme Court of the United
States, solemn and awe-inspiring in their black silk gowns. The
galleries were filled with invited guests, among them the families of
the new President and Vice President and Cabinet and their friends.
Upon the conclusion of the services here, the President, with Chief
Justice Fuller by his side, led the procession through the corridors
of the Capitol to the East Portico, where he renewed his oath and
delivered his message containing the promises and the forecasts of a
new administration. During this ceremony, he wore a ring given him by
John Hay, which contained a lock of Lincoln’s hair.
After the return to the White House, the President and Mrs. Roosevelt
entertained about two hundred persons at luncheon, including their
new official family and intimate friends and relatives, and then the
entire party walked to the reviewing stand in front of the White House
facing the “Court of History.” There the President reviewed the largest
pageant which had ever assembled in marching order for an inauguration.
This parade was noteworthy because of its many unique features. Besides
the Rough Riders, Philippine native scouts, Porto Ricans, and Carlisle
Indians, there was a large number of cowboys in full regalia, led by
Seth Bullock, the famous Sheriff of Deadwood, S. D., and a phalanx of
600 of the fellow citizens, friends, and neighbours of the Roosevelts
from Oyster Bay, disproving the old saying that “a prophet is not
without honour save in his own country.”
In addition to the Richmond Blues, in their handsome blue and white
uniforms and waving plumes, which are always to be honoured as the
oldest military organization in the country, and the Lincoln Club of
Toledo whose royal purple broke the monotony of colour, there was also
a body of miners from the anthracite coal region whose banner expressed
their sentiments, “WE HONOUR THE MAN WHO SETTLED OUR STRIKE.”
Most interesting, at least to the juvenile portion of onlookers, were
Buffalo Bill and the band of Indian chiefs led by Geronimo, including
American Horse, Little Plume, Quanah Parker, Buckskin Charley, and
Hollow Horn Bear. These braves were a startling reminder of the pioneer
history of the country, in their vivid blankets of varied hues,
their gaudy feather bonnets, and hideous war paint. Like Remington’s
pictures, upon which a magic touch had bestowed life and motion, they
majestically swung into view and then were gone--swallowed up in the
surging maelstrom of humanity, a brilliant, flashing, terrible page
out of the past, when their names were synonymous with massacre,
reeking scalps, and murderous tomahawks. So vividly was this impression
called to life that it was hard to realize that these old-time “bad
Indians” had smoked the pipe of peace for all time and were riding
along in loyal allegiance to the Great Father.
One of the innovations in the matter of street decoration was the
“Court of History,” in the space along the Avenue facing the Treasury
Building, the White House, and the State, War, and Navy Departments.
This was one of the most elaborate and interesting features ever
introduced into the decorative scheme for inaugural ceremonies. It was
a matter of surprise that it should have been designed for temporary
purposes only. In addition to stately columns, the Court included
pieces of statuary representing personages prominent in the early
history of the nation, colossal allegorical figures representing
transportation by land and by sea, and victory, massive urns filled
with palms, palmettoes, and vines of the southland, and tall bamboo
poles from the Philippines flying the Stars and Stripes. There was not
a feature but was full of significance to the American people. The
statues, of which there were three carloads, brought from the World’s
Fair, at St. Louis, represented Clark, La Salle, Chancellor Livingston,
President Monroe, Andrew Jackson, Bienville, Mabois, Narvez, and
Anthony Wayne.
A happy little ceremony in the Court had occurred at the moment the
President took the oath. Upon a signal from a bugle, “Old Glory” burst
to the breeze from forty-eight bamboo flagpoles.
The gown worn by Mrs. Roosevelt at the inaugural ball that night will
long be remembered, for it was distinctive both as to fabric and
colour, and was rich enough for an empress. Following the custom set
by Martha Washington, who refused, after she became First Lady of
the Land, to wear any garments of imported material, Mrs. Roosevelt
had the silk for her dress woven in Paterson, New Jersey, and then,
to avoid the inevitable copying of cloth and pattern, she had the
pattern destroyed after the required number of yards had been turned
off the loom. Thus she might, if she chose, preserve her gown with the
comforting knowledge that no other dress would ever be just like it.
This gown was a gorgeous creation of robin’s-egg blue brocade, with
raised gold design of large ostrich feathers, alternating with
medallions of the gold. Family heirloom lace more than two hundred
years old gave a delicate touch to the bodice. Though she rarely wore
jewels, Mrs. Roosevelt, on this occasion, was literally ablaze with
diamonds, but over and above every other feature of the magnificent
costume was the elegant court train, three yards long. The weight of
this gold-embroidered robe with its heavy underskirts of silk made
it advisable to limit the Grand March to five minutes. The Committee
desired to furnish Mrs. Roosevelt with two powdered youths to act as
train bearers, but she declined. Mrs. Fairbanks’s rich white satin,
with its gold embroidery and point lace, was a splendid foil for the
gown worn by Mrs. Roosevelt. The freshness and elegance of the costumes
worn by the six or seven thousand women with the display of jewels were
a notable feature of the ball.
[Illustration: ALICE LONGWORTH IN HER WEDDING GOWN]
One would suppose that the decorator’s art would be taxed to its limit
in the beautifying of the Pension Office each fourth year for these
historic functions, but each setting in turn seems far to surpass
all of its predecessors. The artists always manage to find some new
feature upon which to concentrate their skill, and lo!--the result is
beautiful beyond description. There is no building in the Capital
City so well adapted for the purpose of the ball or so susceptible of
transformation into such a fairyland picture as the big Pension Office
with its open court, tiers of balconies, tall columns, and ample floor
space.
For the Roosevelt inaugural ball the room resembled a Venetian garden
so lovely as to rival even a tropical moonlight scene. Some of the huge
palms that were used reached forty feet from the floor.
Mrs. Roosevelt won golden opinions from the public during her seven
years as First Lady of the Land; she gave more private entertainments
of all kinds than any of her predecessors. Official mourning for
President McKinley was observed at the beginning of her régime, and
when that was concluded, the condition of the mansion limited social
activities for a time. The floors, which were not safe, had been
braced and shored up. But after the remodelling, so long deferred,
the entertainments, official and private, followed each other with a
frequency that delighted society. Mrs. Roosevelt gave more than two
hundred teas, luncheons, musicales, receptions, and dinners, outside of
the regular state affairs. In these, her own personal and semi-official
functions for all sorts of people whom she considered interesting or to
whom she felt White House courtesies due, she followed her husband’s
example of touching all circles and classes.
While meeting admirably every official demand, Mrs. Roosevelt protected
her private life with the same tactful cleverness by which she had
early evaded the rigours of reception handshaking. The First Lady made
it clearly understood that it was her husband who was President, and
that his family did not belong to the public.
Mrs. Roosevelt kept no housekeeper, but gave personal supervision to
the entire establishment. But she made immediately a much-needed and
highly important addition to the White House staff, a social secretary
for herself. For this position she chose Miss Belle Hagner, long a
friend, who was so thoroughly identified through resident and family
connections with Washington’s peculiar social etiquette and the much
more intricate code of procedure that governs the White House that she
quickly became invaluable.
Since the mail of the First Lady of the Land has come to rival that
of her husband in the number and variety of demands and requests
that besiege her, Mrs. Roosevelt had at once seen the necessity
of organizing the handling of this volume of correspondence in a
systematic way.
Mrs. Roosevelt shared her husband’s tastes and was a writer herself,
even when her children were small, but she so planned her time as to
be able to devote a part of it both to her husband and her children,
and to her step-daughter during the time Alice spent with her father.
Until the death of her maternal grandmother, Mrs. Lee, Alice spent the
greater part of her time in the Boston home of her grandparents or in
travelling with them.
The President’s wife always found great delight in horseback riding,
and she and the President would drive to the outskirts of the city,
where their riding horses would be awaiting them, and enjoy frequent
rides through the country roads leading from the city. Thus they
escaped the gaze of the curious. She was accomplished in many ways,
even having trained herself as a nurse, a qualification of utmost value
to the mother of such an active family.
Early in their establishment at the White House, luncheon became the
important political function. Like the Hanna breakfasts in the “little
White House” across Lafayette Square, where the chosen were invited to
partake of country sausage and hot buckwheat cakes, maple syrup or
honey, coffee, and a flow of political reason, for luncheons the White
House pantry was always prepared to serve from one to a dozen or more
additional guests. No one, least of all the President himself, knew
how many he would invite to join him at lunch. Whoever the man might
be that happened to engage his deep interest in a morning call, he was
likely to be asked to stay. When a subject pressed its claims upon
the President’s mind, a telephone call was sent to the best-informed
individual to request him to come to supply the desired data.
It was in this manner that the President invited Booker Washington, the
well-known Negro educator, to eat luncheon in the White House--an act
that was severely criticized at the time. In speaking of the incident
at a later period, Mr. Roosevelt said he was in the midst of an
interesting discussion with Washington when the luncheon hour arrived,
and without thinking of the man’s colour, asked him to the meal in
order that they might continue the conversation.
Both the President and his wife sought to bring people together at this
meal who would enjoy meeting, and they both did their best to draw
their guests into informal frank discussion of the subjects uppermost
in their interest. Delightful, natural, wholesome, with a spontaneous
hospitality entirely devoid of ostentation, a luncheon at the White
House in the Roosevelt régime was an education and an adventure. Helen
Nicolay, in her recent book, has this to say of one of these luncheons:
“The luncheon yesterday at the White House was great fun. The party
consisted of the President and Mrs. Roosevelt, Mrs. Hay, Mr. Von
Briesen, a New York lawyer with a white beard, a strong accent, and
eyes blue as a baby’s, Mr. Wilcox of Buffalo, likewise a lawyer and a
good judge of horseflesh, I take it, Theodore, Jr., and yours truly.
“The whole lower floor of the White House is in a mess, undergoing
alterations that will improve it immensely. There was a strong smell
of turpentine everywhere, and we were relieved of our wraps while
standing in the great vestibule, on one foot, so to speak, clutching
our skirts to keep them out of the carpenters’ dust on the floor. Then
we were ushered into the Red Parlour whose walls have been covered
with deep red velvet, with results rather startling. At least to my
mind, they combine the fascinations of a pall and a sleeping car.
The room is at present furnished with a misfit collection of leather
chairs and lounges. The real furniture is being made to order, we are
told. It also is to be covered with leather, because the room is to
be used for smoking on occasion, and the furniture must not be of a
material to hold the smoke. Fancy--with those walls!
“In a few minutes Mr. Von Briesen was ushered in. Then Mrs. Roosevelt
appeared, dressed in white wool. She has a wonderfully pleasant voice
and a sweet face. A few minutes later Mr. Wilcox was announced. After
that there was a long wait, during which conversation of a kindly
gossipy nature was carried on, chiefly by the two matrons. When a
little after two o’clock the door opened and the President came
in--teeth and all--no time was lost in making for the dining room. He
took out Mrs. Hay, the rest of us followed in a group. Mrs. Roosevelt
stopped a moment at the door of the state dining room to point out
some change, and the President, having seated his lady, came bouncing
back, like a rubber ball, to see why we did not come on. The poor man
was frankly hungry, having been on his feet since 9:20 A. M. seeing
people, deciding questions all in a minute, and emphatically leading
the strenuous life. He said he felt as though he had been galloping.
“He talked most entertainingly throughout the meal, and managed
besides to dispose of a goodly amount of food. You will laugh when I
give you the menu--bouillon, salt fish, chicken with rice, rolls,
and baked beans. Of beans and the salt fish the President had a
second helping. For dessert there was Bavarian cream, served with
preserves and cakes. There was one kind of wine, which most of the
party declined, and tea, poured by Mrs. Roosevelt, who made it for
all the rest just as her husband liked his ‘and no questions asked.’
Cigars were passed after the meal, and lighted by the two lawyers. Mr.
Roosevelt did not smoke.
“The china was miscellaneous; nice enough, but not extraordinary. I
only remember some pretty Haviland, and that the bread and butter
plates were in the form of flags of the different nations. The
President had the Star-Spangled Banner, the rest of us got what was
left. The German drew the tricolour; I the Union Jack. The waiters
were two spry slim coloured youths, not in livery, and they were kept
rather busy. My impression is that they were always moving toward the
President.
“If my life depended on it I could not tell you about the centrepiece.
There must have been one; but the truth is that Mr. Roosevelt was so
rattlingly lively, yet so earnest and dignified, his wife so kind and
unaffected, and the whole meal so informal in character, that what was
on the table dwindled to minor importance. Theodore, Jr., appeared
after we were all seated, shook hands all around, took part in the
talk with the aplomb of young America, and excused himself before
dessert to go riding with his small sister--having meanwhile extracted
from his mother permission to use her horse.
“It was just a nice lively United States family entertaining with
heartiness and pot-luck chance visitors of the hour. The only visible
difference was that the President was served first, then Mrs.
Roosevelt, and after them the guests. Oh, yes. Another detail not
customary. U. S. was embroidered on the plate doilies. The President
and Mrs. Roosevelt sat opposite each other at the sides, not the ends,
of the oval table.
“The talk ranged over many subjects--importunate Senators; Colonel
Hay’s Bavarian ancestors; the Negro problem; the impossibility of
doing more than establish certain fixed principles in his own mind and
live up to them regardless, and his feeling of the deep obligation he
was under, as President, to do this; anecdotes of pet riding horses
and a humorous account of a portrait recently painted of him, which
was, he said, the only portrait of himself he had ever liked. He
liked it because it did not resemble him in the least, but looked as
he would like to look. It was the picture he wished to leave to his
grandchildren, if he ever had any.
“In spite of his almost incessant talk, I was impressed with the care
he took--the care of a generous, thoughtful host--to bring up topics
that would interest and draw out the best from each one of his guests
in turn. Von Briesen had worked with him in civic matters in New York,
and his praise caused the German to turn shy and rosy as a girl.
“References to books and authors showed much reading the President
managed to do, while the rapidity with which his mind worked kept us
all on the jump. He seemed to follow the usual processes of reasoning,
but to do so at twice or thrice the usual rate of speed, with the
result of apparently leaping from conclusion to conclusion, while the
rest of us hurried breathlessly after him. I was reminded of that
rhyme in which strange animals ‘hilariously hopped from bough to
bough.’
“But the impression above all others is of a man _living_ with every
fibre of his being, ardently as well as arduously, and having the best
time of anybody who ever inhabited the White House.”
The most fascinating pictures of the Roosevelt régime were those
made by the Roosevelt children, who were known most distinctively by
their pets, the varied assortment of which enlivened the White House
and its environs. Theodore, older and more serious-minded, concerned
himself with much weightier matters than did his younger brothers,
but he was the judge-advocate-general, ranking next to the parents
when differences of opinion on the respective merits of the family
menagerie had to be settled. Each child had his full complement of
dogs, birds, ponies, rats, guinea pigs, or whatever pet he favoured.
Upon each of the presidential tours the pet stock was increased. While
the presidential train was pulling out of a Western town a little girl
tossed a small furry bunch to the President, calling out, “His name is
Josiah!” Josiah proved to be a young badger that had to be brought up
on a bottle and lived to be a nuisance, nipping at heels and skirts.
A procession of puppies of every breed, colour, and size succeeded
to the adoring ownership of these happy children. None who visited
the President’s family during his eventful régime will ever forget
Algonquin, the small calico pony from Iceland that was Archie’s proud
possession and delight, and for a sight of which he longed so fervently
during a spell of measles that somehow--nobody told just how--Algonquin
got the message that his little master wanted to see him, and, lo!--one
day it so happened. When the house was devoid of guests and the father
and mother conveniently out driving, the pony was smuggled up on the
elevator to the boy’s room for a few minutes’ visit, and convalescence
was accelerated thereby.
An officious bull pup almost produced international complications
by delaying the progress of an ambassador on his way to call on the
President. A small black bear furnished endless amusement with its
clumsy antics, while a funny black puppy learned to ride on Algonquin’s
back and insisted upon being taken along when Archie took a ride.
Archie had a kangaroo rat that was always peeking out of his pocket and
sociably accepting tidbits, indifferent to its high position.
Rabbits, squirrels, and chickens all had their day of popularity,
and when they died they were formally and properly interred with
all possible funeral pomp and ceremony, and with elaborately marked
headstones placed above them in the pet cemetery.
Kermit, like his eldest brother, was also a naturalist as a little boy.
He, too, roamed the woods and swamps of Oyster Bay and scoured the
country around Washington in search of specimens.
Not even pets, however, rivalled the joy of a game or a romp of the
children with their father, who was always a boy with his boys, and
from the experiences of his own health-handicapped boyhood knew just
how much sport meant to normal boys. It was a likable trait in him
that his understanding of boys was not limited in its sympathy and
expression to his own sons, as this little incident shows:
Among the callers on a Saturday morning, when important persons with
missions and other important persons in want of missions were grouped
in his private office, was a boy, a collegian of the athletic sort, who
was very desirous of meeting the President. In spite of a bold front,
such as is becoming in a dauntless sophomore, it was evident that he
was nervous.
“Shall I say ‘His Excellency’?” he asked a few moments before his
entrance.
“It’s just like a presentation at court, you know,” his eldest sister
had remarked, with a view of putting the untrammelled football player
into the mood of a mere human being; “you’ll have to bow low, of
course.”
“I don’t believe Mr. Roosevelt is that kind of a man,” he answered with
a sinking heart.
“Of course not,” said a more consoling voice; “you simply have to say
‘Mr. President,’ stand up while anybody else is standing, and go away
when the President rises.”
Still, the lad was evidently very uncomfortable and uncertain when he
reached the room adjoining the President’s office. It was evident, from
the movement of his lips, that he was practising on “Mr. President,” as
at least one safe hold on material for conversation.
The moment--the unexpected but fearful moment came. The President,
on hearing the boy’s name, left the distinguished group with great
promptness and made for his guest.
“Sit down, Jones,” he said, very cordially. “I want to talk about the
races in which your college put up such a good fight. Oh, sit down!”
“I’m glad you think we put up a good fight, Mr. President,” said
the boy, forgetting everything about the ceremony in the joy--as he
afterward said--of talking to somebody who knew. “Some people thought
we didn’t, but they were wrong.”
Then there followed a whirling talk, in which the President showed
such a consummate knowledge of sports and such a sympathy with the
boy’s point of view that the lad almost forgot that he was not talking
with “another fellow.” But he steadied himself and found his bearings
with one or two formal “Mr. Presidents,” and then the two plunged into
jujutsu. The President showed the boy a scientific grip.
“You’ve got it--you’ve got it,” cried the boy, “you’ve got it! It’s
great, but don’t you think that if a well-trained American swatted one
of those Japs in the belly he’d do for him? Don’t you,” he added, with
a sudden return to ceremony, “Mr. President?”
The onlookers turned aside--the one most interested in the lad showing
some anxiety--but the President set the boy at ease with an anecdote
of Theodore, Jr., and the jujutsu which made the boy laugh and say,
“Theodore Roosevelt must have a good grip--Mr. President.”
The interview closed with a warm shake of the hand between the
President and the boy. The President looked after him with a kindly
gleam in his eye. It is a great thing to have a boy of one’s own; it
gives a man sympathy with all manly boys.
As to the boy, he was radiant.
“The President’s boys are in luck,” he said. “As long as I live,” he
added solemnly, “I don’t think I shall ever meet a finer man or one
that knows more about the right things!”
One day, to the noon reception in his office came a delegation of
schoolgirls from a small Southern college, stiff and stilted with
embarrassment, but firmly resolved not to be enthusiastic over a
Republican President. They were introduced by their chaperon--“Mr.
President, here are some good Southern Democrats.” With that engaging
smile he answered, as he put out his hand, “And all good Americans.”
In an instant, he knew their college, their states, and when two
discovered that he knew one father and a Senator grandfather, his
conquest was complete--party lines were forgotten.
From attic to cellar, from East Room to stables, the live young
Roosevelts roamed at will, monarchs of the home of the Chief Magistrate
and its surroundings. But with all of this freedom, they were rarely
in evidence in the state apartments during visiting hours. Only once
in a while might visitors catch glimpses of small boys with chunks of
gingerbread or cookies in their hands and some animal in tow, scurrying
through the corridors or mounting the stairs. Upon one occasion a
trail of small wet footprints, with little puddles here and there on
the polished floor, led to a dripping youngster who had taken a swim in
the White House fountain and, trailing shoes and stockings, was dodging
the observation of the group of foreign guests calling upon his mother.
Ethel, too, had her share of pets, frolics, and playthings. Privileged
more than any other girl in the White House before her, she grew up
where her charming boudoir, with her piano, opened into her bedroom.
Sundays found her teaching a Sunday-school class of coloured children
at St. Mary’s Chapel. At Oyster Bay she played the organ in the
little Sunday school, and on Saturdays and holidays in Washington she
had great fun arranging picnics and outings for her little coloured
protégês.
Alice Roosevelt had received an invitation to the coronation of
King Edward, and it looked as though she might have the interesting
experience of visiting the English Court. When negotiations were
started, however, that provided for her reception as a royal princess,
her sturdy American father rebelled, and the young lady’s trip was
vetoed. Being fond and indulgent toward his children, however, her
father promised her a trip to China, Japan, and the Philippines as an
offset to her disappointment. In the Philippines she became associated
with the Tafts, who made her visit delightful.
Surrounded constantly by suitors, the gossip of the Capital insisted
that the “Princess Alice” merely wanted to get away to learn her own
mind and make her decision as to where she would bestow her hand. If
so, young Representative Nicholas Longworth, one of her most constant
admirers, found it expedient to become one of the party so as to be on
hand to help her in her mental research on this subject. That he did
so, thoroughly and effectively, was demonstrated by the announcement
of their betrothal upon her return, and their marriage in the East Room
on February 17, 1906.
Alice Roosevelt’s marriage, like that of Nellie Grant, was an event of
national and international importance. The tenth White House bride,
with her youth and unusual popularity, and the enormous prestige of
her parents, drew the attention of the reading world. Gifts poured in
hourly, and congratulations and expressions of good wishes came from
thousands of her own countrymen, and from all over the world, from
crowned heads, rulers of nations, and celebrities of every description.
Preparations for the wedding were most elaborate, every detail of which
was planned by the young lady, the least perturbed of anyone concerned.
Indeed, her serenity and casual acceptance of all of the excitement as
part of the day’s work was a source of amazement to her girl friends.
Easter lilies, pink and white rhododendrons, American Beauties, and
bride roses in large vases, massed in great bowls, with palms, ferns,
and festoons and garlands of smilax, transformed the lower floors of
the White House into a beautiful bridal setting. A broad raised dais,
with an improvised altar, was placed in front of the windows looking
toward the Treasury Department.
Preceded by the ushers and the group of military aides in uniform at
high noon, she entered on the arm of her father to the strains of
“Lohengrin” played by the Marine Band. At the end of the ribboned
aisle, Mr. Longworth stepped forward and led her to the altar, where
Bishop Satterlee united them according to the service of the Episcopal
Church in the presence of five hundred guests.
The bride wore a gown of white satin woven especially for the occasion,
and trimmed with rare ancestral lace, with a train five yards long. The
veil of silk tulle, which enveloped her slight figure in a misty cloud
of white, that reached to the edge of the gown and was held in place
by a wreath of orange blossoms. She wore a diamond brooch, which was a
gift from her father, and a diamond necklace, the gift of the groom.
The wedding breakfast was served in both private and state dining
rooms, the bridal party being served in the former, where, with
characteristic family impetuosity, the new Mrs. Longworth borrowed
Major McCawley’s sword to cut her cake, finding the knife provided
inadequate.
Shortly afterward, the bridal couple left the house by the South
Portico in an automobile and proceeded to “Friendship,” the suburban
residence of John R. McLean, from where they started on their honeymoon.
Ten thousand people attended the reception. The value of the gifts
represented a magnificent fortune. The accumulation filled several
rooms of the White House and spilled out into the corridors, and
included everything, such as most exquisite jewels, silver, art
objects, massive furniture, household linen, kitchen equipment, someone
facetiously including a laundry outfit and an assortment of live pets.
What in the world the girl bride would do with such an embarrassment of
riches was the popular, but unanswered, query.
Ethel’s dêbut on December 28, 1908, when she was seventeen, was an
event to be remembered through life by all of the great host of young
people who attended. President and Mrs. Roosevelt had kept their
younger daughter’s activities confined to simple amusements until her
school life was finished. In the coming-out party they made every
possible effort for her pleasure. It has been called the grandest
Christmas Party since the Civil War. The entire suite of state
apartments was thrown open, and the hundreds of guest tripped up the
grand stairway into the lobby, where the portraits of Presidents gazed
across banks of Christmas greens and rows of huge vases holding whole
trees of holly.
Like a fairy princess, the flaxen-haired dêbutante in her first ball
gown--a lovely creation of white satin studded with crystals--stood
beside her mother in the Blue Parlour, amid wagonloads of flowers sent
by friends from far and near. The Marine Band, in scarlet coats, played
merrily at the front end of the East Boom, in which great apartment of
many memories the dazzling young diplomats in court dress, and young
army and navy officers in full uniform, tripped the light fantastic
with the débutantes of the season. At midnight, supper was served at
little tables scattered through the corridor and dining rooms.
Two nights later, Miss Ethel was the guest of honour at a Christmas
ball given by Mrs. Levi Leiter in the white and gold ballroom of her
million-dollar palace. Here the two hundred and fifty young guests
danced beneath scores of gold baskets filled with begonias and hung
from pink satin ribbons, while the great mirrors on the wall reflected
their forms as they glided across the floor to the music that sifted
through a great screen of smilax and pink blossoms.
Theodore Roosevelt’s first American ancestor was Claes Martensen
van Roosevelt, the sturdy Hollander who arrived on the continent
two hundred and seventy-five years before his descendant became
President. For seven generations these hard-working, sturdy landholders
contributed to the development of the United States, fought in her
wars, and served in her council chambers. His grandfather, Cornelius
van Schaack Roosevelt, attained some local prominence in business. Of
his father, the President had glowing memories, frequently remarking,
“He was the best man I ever knew.”
His mother was from Georgia, and the men of her family cast their
fortunes with the Confederacy in the Civil War. To this mixture in his
make-up was due his broad, impersonal, national viewpoint.
Theodore was born in New York City, October 27, 1858, and was reared in
the atmosphere of a cultured home of moderate affluence. Too delicate
and anæmic to stand contact with the healthy average boys of a school,
he received his education at home. As early as the age of nine,
however, he resolved to be able to play and fight and be like other
boys; so he mapped out for himself a schedule of exercise which he
followed for many years, and which no doubt helped greatly toward the
achievement of the physical perfection that came with manhood.
He entered Harvard when eighteen, and there, as in every other period
of his life, his personality stood out. He fell in love with Miss Alice
Lee, of Boston, and they were married a few months after his graduation
in 1880. With the birth of a little daughter, Alice, Mrs. Roosevelt
died. The young husband left his baby with her maternal grandparents,
temporarily abandoned the study of law and his interest in politics,
and went West, following the habit of childhood of seeking the solitude
of field or forest when in distress or under great mental strain.
North Dakota attracted him, and he invested in a cattle ranch in the
Bad Lands during 1884-1886. This was known as Elkhorn Ranch, Medora, N.
D.
Soon the life of the cowboys lured him, and he learned their duties,
their ways, and the best and worst sides of them. He spent a great
deal of time hunting, it being claimed, not by him, however, that he
had killed specimens of all of the game found on our prairies or in
the mountains. Most of his hunting was done in search of first-hand
information for his books, since he started authorship very early in
his career, and no friends were more greatly cherished or more enjoyed
than the little group of naturalists, John Burroughs among them, with
whom he found congenial association. Practically all of his long
hunting trips were those of exploration.
In his boyhood days at Oyster Bay, Theodore Roosevelt had made a pal
of the young daughter of a neighbour of his parents, Edith Carew. Her
tastes were much like his own, and in the gay parties, sleighing,
skating, and dancing, he liked to have her for a partner. She also had
known the girl he married, and though she had been living in England
for some time when she heard of his wife’s death, she wrote him of her
sympathy. This letter followed him out to Elkhorn Ranch. He answered;
more letters followed, and soon other vistas of life more alluring
than round-ups, branding cattle, shooting wildcats, and studying
mountain lions, drew him back to the centres of civilization. A trip to
London ensued, and a wedding in a little English chapel was solemnized
December 2, 1886.
After a leisurely honeymoon about Europe, Roosevelt brought his wife
back to New York. He entered the political field again.
President Harrison appointed him a member of the United States Civil
Service Commission in 1889. President Cleveland continued him, but he
resigned in 1895 to become Police Commissioner of New York City. In
this capacity he instituted many reforms.
In 1897, President McKinley made him Assistant Secretary of the Navy.
He had just begun to make his energy felt in the discharge of the
duties of this position when war was declared with Spain.
Of his recruiting a regiment of hardy plainsmen, cowboys, miners,
athletes--his own friends of the West, men who could ride, shoot,
fight, and stand hardship, the Rough Riders--everyone knows. Dr.
Wood was made Colonel and Roosevelt Lieutenant Colonel. They were
commissioned, and the regiment speedily organized and ready for service
in five weeks. They were sent to Cuba with the regulars, landing for
the trouble around Santiago. They rendered valiant services from
the beginning. Colonel Wood was promoted, and Roosevelt became the
commander of the regiment. Their storming of Kettle Hill when almost a
fifth of them were killed or wounded has been told again and again.
With the fighting over, Roosevelt came back to stir up interest in
better care for the health of our soldiers, and he began his fight for
an adequate army and navy--large enough for any sudden emergency.
His gallantry in the war carried him into office as Governor of New
York in 1893, with a large majority, and his administration was
conspicuous for its reform work. His nomination as the candidate of his
party for President appeared to be a foregone conclusion as far back as
1902. Even at that early date, some of the States began to endorse him
and pledged their support.
President Roosevelt’s action in the great coal strike of 1902 restored
order and secured a return of the miners to their work, at the same
time making the workingmen feel that their cause had not suffered from
his counsel. The country applauded his work at this time, although
some of the big corporations showed hostility. This was the most
important internal question in his first administration--that is, it
vitally affected more people than any other. There was no law by which
he could interfere to end the strike, and he proceeded to use his
great moral influence to bring the interested parties together. He
brought about a resumption of work pending a settlement by a commission
appointed by him. His counsel during this critical period was given
while he was confined to his room owing to his wounded leg. In the
same year and the next, he handled carefully the complications growing
out of the Venezuelan trouble. He maintained the Monroe Doctrine in
all negotiations with European powers interested, and was honoured
by Venezuela in being named as an acceptable arbiter, which duty he
gracefully avoided by proposing the Hague tribunal as the proper means
for arriving at a peaceful solution.
In the matter of the uprising of Panama and the recognition of that
country by the United States, the President was both applauded and
criticized. The great majority of the people upheld his treaty with
Panama, by which the territory of the Panama Canal passed into the
hands of the United States, so that the beginning of work on that giant
construction should not be longer delayed.
He established a reputation of getting things done. During his seven
and a half years as President, the navy was nearly doubled in tonnage,
the Russo-Japanese War was ended by the Treaty of Portsmouth, the
battleship fleet was sent around the world, the Consular Service of
the United States was reorganized, the National Irrigation Act and the
Pure Food and Drug Act were passed, the Panama Canal was begun, the
Department of Commerce and Labour was established. No President ever
created so many new lines of public welfare, or so many projects of
business for government functioning.
Some of the policies recommended by Roosevelt were the Inheritance Tax,
the Income Tax, the Parcel Post Service, and the increase of the army
and navy forces. His most noteworthy achievement, in the estimation of
many of his fellow citizens, was the fact that he “changed the attitude
of government toward property, and gave the Republic a new ideal of the
duties and responsibilities of citizenship.”
Visitors of all descriptions made the White House their mecca; perhaps
the most picturesque was Ezra Meeker, with his long white hair, who
called on November 29, 1907, in his prairie schooner of the period
of 1849, drawn by its team of oxen. This quaint vehicle, reminder of
another vivid page of our national history, contained an elderly man
and woman and a collie. It drew up by the doors near the Executive
Office, and the nimble trail blazer went in to pay his respects to the
President. A few minutes later, Mr. Roosevelt accompanied his caller to
the wagon, where his appreciative comment included due attention to the
collie.
Another day, the President left an important group in order to greet
Eli Smith, who had travelled all of the way from Nome, Alaska, on his
sled on low wheels drawn by six dogs. He had been a year on the journey.
When Mr. Roosevelt’s carriage arrived at the entrance to the
President’s room at the Union Station, after the inauguration of
President Taft, there were gathered fully three thousand of his
admirers waiting to bid him farewell. He had to pass between two rows
of people, fully a dozen deep, and had to respond to the greetings of
the crowd. He and Mrs. Roosevelt were accompanied by Secretary William
Loeb and a large group of close personal friends. As his train pulled
out he called out, “Good-bye, good-bye, good luck!”
Thus Theodore Roosevelt bade adieu to Washington after seven years of
strenuous service through one of the most remarkable administrations
the country has yet known.
At the time he laid down the sceptre of leadership, there was
considerable agitation in the public press on the problem of how
to employ ex-Presidents, brought to a focus by Mr. Roosevelt’s own
dominant, vigorous physical and mental fitness for participation in
almost any line of constructive activity in economic or political
development. But Mr. Roosevelt solved this problem for himself, at
least for the time, as he had already planned to devote a year or
so to the exploration of Central Africa. Shortly, he was entirely
out of touch with all political associations, returning to America
about a year later with a large collection of specimens and valuable
contributions to science. En route he visited Egypt, Italy, France,
Germany, Norway, and England, receiving in all these places an ovation
similar to that given to General Grant. On this part of the trip, he
was accompanied by Mrs. Roosevelt, and together they repeated their
honeymoon journey, with the exception that his honeymoon had not been
interrupted with speeches, as was the case on this tour. When he was in
Christiania, he received the Nobel Prize for his work in bringing about
peace in the Russo-Japanese conflict. England showed her appreciation
through the degree conferred upon him at Oxford. By the time he reached
New York, his popularity had attained a degree where the welcome
extended him seemed to be the universal expression of the nation.
In 1912, a Republican schism wrecked the party, with Taft and Roosevelt
as the central figures of the most furiously waged row that ever split
an American political party wide open. The underlying cause was the
super-strong personality of Roosevelt with a countless host of ardent
followers unalterably opposed to accept anyone else as a leader.
The contest during the election was spirited and bitter, and the split
in the party resulted in its defeat, giving a victory to the Democrats.
Following the exhausting efforts of this campaign, Colonel Roosevelt
again made a trip of rest and exploration, going to South America. This
was the first expedition in all his experience that proved disastrous,
as he contracted a tropical fever which all but cost him his life, and
from which he never entirely recovered. By this time, Colonel Roosevelt
had lost the sight of one eye, but that in no wise retarded his
activities. The great grief of his life came to him with the opening of
the World War, which called him to active service with every fibre of
his being, and in which participation was denied him through political
partisanship. However, he had the great satisfaction of seeing all four
of his sons enter the war, saying, as he bade them god-speed, “I would
go with you if I could. I would go as a corporal if I could obtain the
consent of the administration.” His enforced aloofness was particularly
bitter when both France and England clamoured for his presence.
While he was addressing an audience in Milwaukee, an assassin’s
bullet caused a painful wound, and though he recovered temporarily,
its presence in his system, combined with the devastating effects of
the tropical fever, hastened his death; but he lived to mourn the
death of his youngest child while exulting in the pride of the boy’s
heroic service in the defense of American ideals, and he lived to see
the utter collapse of the despotism that plunged the world into the
frightful World War. His death, suddenly, painlessly, came in the
midst of his activities on January 6, 1919. He sleeps at Oyster Bay,
and his grave is year by year becoming a shrine that draws throngs in
increasing numbers to pay tribute to the man who most of all typified
the spirit of America.
At the present writing, Mrs. Roosevelt is a world traveller. Her
living boys have become noted explorers. Her baby sleeps in France.
Her daughters are both married and all of her children have promising
families, to which Paulina Longworth is the latest addition.
CHAPTER XIV
ADMINISTRATION OF WILLIAM HOWARD TAFT
_March 4, 1909, to March 4, 1913_
Because of the blinding snowstorm, howling winds, and low temperature,
Mr. Taft departed from the usual custom of an outdoor ceremony and took
the oath of office in the Senate Chamber, with Chief Justice Fuller
officiating, after James Schoolcraft Sherman had been installed as Vice
President.
Only once before had the vow of allegiance been taken under such
conditions, and that was eighty years previously, when Andrew Jackson
was compelled to yield to the weather and prudence and stay indoors.
President Roosevelt and Mr. Taft, with Senators Philander Knox and
Henry Cabot Lodge, rode to the Capitol in a closed carriage escorted by
Troop A of Cleveland. Behind Mr. Taft’s carriage the Civil and Spanish
War veterans and other units of the escort fell into line.
Mrs. Taft and Mrs. Sherman established a precedent in riding with their
husbands at the head of the parade on the return trip to the White
House, receiving vociferous cheers from the crowds.
The Tafts had been the guests of the Roosevelts the night of March 3d.
At breakfast the next morning, it is said that Mr. Taft, after taking
a rueful survey of the snowbound city, remarked to the President,
facetiously, “I knew it would be a cold day when I became President,”
to which the President responded, in kind, “I knew there would be a
blizzard clear up to the minute I went out of office.”
After the luncheon for all of the twenty-seven members of the Taft clan
and their official guests, the President, bundled in a fur overcoat,
made his way, with the Vice President and their party, through the
snow to the reviewing stand, where he remained until dark, giving full
expression to his approval of the splendid parade in his honour.
Braving the bitter cold, thirty thousand soldiers, sailors, and
civilians swung along Pennsylvania Avenue to the music of a hundred
bands. Undaunted by the wintry blasts that numbed their hands and
stung their faces, they marched between the lines of snowdrifts amid a
constant roar of applause. Only three fifths of the original formation
had actually appeared. A large number never reached the city until
hours after all ceremonies were over, and some failed to come at all.
Though marching quickly and efficiently, the heavy service overcoats
detracted from the beauty of the procession, since they hid the colours
of the uniforms. Fully thirteen thousand of the marchers belonged to
famous Republican clubs and organizations. The band of sailors from
the fleet was loudly cheered. Sixteen battleships had just completed
a fifty-thousand-mile trip around the world, during which they had
visited every ocean in the journey of two years, two months, and
twenty-two days.
Some idea of the proportions of the blizzard may be gathered from
the fact that ten inches of snow fell from 8 P. M. Wednesday night
until noon Thursday (March 4th), and the labour of six thousand men
with shovels was required to clear the route of the procession from
the Capitol to the White House, removing what was estimated to be
fifty-eight thousand five hundred tons of snow. Eighteen thousand
pounds of sand was used to sprinkle the Avenue, and before the parade
was over, dust was flying from the middle of the street over the
spectators.
Among the celebrations on March 4th was the annual dinner of the Yale
class of 1878, given at the Metropolitan Club with President Taft as
the guest of honour. Here he enjoyed himself hugely for nearly two
hours before going to the ball. The sons of Old Eli gathered from
all parts of the land to do honour to “Big Bill Taft,” and songs,
toasts, and speeches made the banquet memorable. Seventy-five of the
President’s classmates composed the group that gathered to forget the
formalities of the day in song and spirit. No incident of the day
pleased Mr. Taft more, and in his address to them he declared that they
would always find the White House latchstring on the outside.
The ball at the Pension Office in the evening was once more a
picture of bewildering beauty. This happened, through the trend of
circumstances, to be the last of the old-time inaugural balls.
The President’s box, a flower-decked affair which extended beyond
the first balcony about fifteen feet, had been provided with a huge,
handsomely carved mahogany chair, lent for the occasion by a New York
admirer. Similar chairs on either side of the throne-like affair were
lent by Mrs. A. C. Barney from her famous collection of antiques. The
top of the box was crowned with a gold ball surmounted with a golden
eagle. Gold-banded fringed curtains of satin and gold columns flanked
its sides.
The arrival of the presidential party was the occasion for wild
applause, for not until the Grand March through the roped-off aisle
was completed by the man and the woman in whose honour it was given
could the multitude feel that the ball had actually opened. To the
music of “Hail to the Chief,” President and Mrs. Taft, followed by
Vice President and Mrs. Sherman, made the tour of the room, bowing
and smiling their pleasure at the uproar of welcome. They then seated
themselves in their box, the President taking the huge armchair which
had been provided for him and which, to his amazement, sank down and
down until he was almost lost to view in its cushioned depths. The
President laughed with the onlooking crowd, but was careful not again
to jeopardize his official dignity by floundering in a chair many times
too large even for his generous build.
Every sort of costume was worn at the ball. The most elegant and
costly hand-painted, jewelled robes, shirtwaists and skirts,
Sunday-go-to-meeting dresses, sport dresses, and business suits, all
were mixed in, as seems customary with the inimitable independence
of the American public. Here and there were quaint native dresses of
prosperous and curious foreigners, who evidently felt that they were
highly presentable at what to them was an American Court function.
Nothing pleased the assembled throng more than a little spontaneous
gesture by the President, who, when he was about to leave, stepped to
the rail, waved his hand to the dancers, and called out “Good-night.”
Mrs. Taft, like the famous Dolly Madison, the queen of the ball of a
century before her, was attired in a high-waisted empire gown. It was
extremely simple, depending for its effect upon the fabric and the
style of the cut. Made of white chiffon, it was embroidered in silver
lace and crystal beads in a goldenrod design that reached to the
waistband in front and extended thickly around the train. The waist was
also simply trimmed with the embroidery and rich lace, and the whole
mounted over a white satin slip. A pearl and diamond dog collar and
a spray in her hair completed her costume. Miss Taft was becomingly
attired in white silk muslin with touches of blue, while Mrs. Sherman
was radiant in white satin.
Though taxicabs and carriages were at a premium, and the keen March
wind penetrated the thickest furs, the ballroom was so packed that
dancing was possible only in spots until toward the last, when the
crowd had thinned out. It was estimated that ten thousand people
attended, and they brought their enthusiasm along, for they constantly
applauded the new President long after the Grand March was completed.
In Mrs. Taft, the White House had a mistress of marked individuality,
strong character, and independence of belief. From the time of her
marriage, she made her husband’s career and their home her chief
interests. She is a college woman and a great believer in higher
education for women, not to make them competitors with men, but to
round out their femininity. On this subject she allowed herself to be
interviewed:
“Higher education for women? My daughter has elected to take a full
college course and is now studying very diligently at Bryn Mawr to
equip herself for entrance into college, probably next autumn. I
believe in the best and most thorough education for everyone, men and
women, and it is my proudest boast that all my children are studious.
My idea about higher culture for women is that it makes them great in
intellect and soul, develops the lofty conception of womanhood; not
that it makes them a poor imitation of a man.
“I am old-fashioned enough to believe that woman is the complement of
man, and that what is most feminine about her is most attractive to
man and therefore of the greatest utility to the world. No fundamental
superiority or inferiority between the two appears plain to me. The
only superiority lies in the way in which the responsibilities of life
are discharged.
“Viewed in this light, some wives are superior to their husbands,
some husbands to their wives, some girls to their brothers, and women
to men in varying circumstances. Education for women, as much as is
obtainable, possesses, to my mind, far greater advantages than the
commercial one of providing means for making a livelihood. This is a
very great benefit, when necessary, but for the aggregate woman the
highest mission is the ability to preside over a home and to fulfil
the highest obligations of a home with grace, dignity, and an exalted
sense of duty.”
Few of the women called to preside as First Lady of the Land had the
liberal equipment through birth, education, travel, social and official
prestige which has been Mrs. Taft’s, and the reforms she established
were of a character to call forth high praise. As a part of her plan to
create a real home for her family while administering the social régime
of the Mansion, she introduced a Jersey cow to the establishment, to
the greatest interest and amusement of the tourists who stopped to
watch bossy peacefully grazing about the grounds, undisturbed by any
other animal or pet.
Every step in the career of the genial President, from his birth to his
service on the bench as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, is well
known, but the career of his talented wife, to whom so much of his own
success is due, is familiar but to a limited circle, since her life has
been submerged in his, and her objective the promotion of his welfare.
Mrs. Taft, the daughter of John W. Herron of Cincinnati, one-time
law partner of Rutherford B. Hayes, had every social and educational
advantage from earliest childhood. As a girl visiting “Aunt Lucy
Hayes,” she is credited with having declared her intention of becoming
mistress of the White House some day. “I shall never forget the joy of
those visits,” Mrs. Taft has said. “There was a supper served at eleven
or twelve o’clock every evening in the main corridor and laughing
companies of young people used to gather ’round that table.”
Nellie Herron was still a schoolgirl at that time, but no one welcomed
her home from these delightful visits more heartily than the jolly
big boy she had known from babyhood, the son of her father’s lifetime
friend, Judge Alphonso Taft, and when he went away to Yale, his
brightest memory was woven around the frolics, dances, and good times
with this talented young girl.
By the time she had finished high school and completed the course at
the Cincinnati University, “Bub” Taft, as he was nicknamed by his
comrades, had graduated from Yale and was studying law and doing court
reporting at the same time, this last for Murat Halstead’s Cincinnati
paper, which paid him but six dollars a week when he started. Although
his time was so well filled, he still had ample to help “Nellie Herron”
organize a literary society, which they called the “Salon,” and which
met each Saturday evening at the Herron home on Pike Street. Made up of
a small group of young men and women, mostly just out of college, it
held together for several years, its members writing essays which they
read to each other, and discussing matters of current interest. At this
time, Miss Herron was teaching in a private school. This little club
had the encouragement of the parents of both of these young people,
who were members of the Cincinnati Literary Club, of which Judge Taft
became the president. Young William later attained membership in this
exclusive club of older folk, and the fact gave him added prestige with
the junior group. Miss Herron had in the meantime developed her music
and become one of the founders of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra.
Young Taft soon made his intentions regarding Miss Nellie very plain
by outstaying all other members of the “Salon,” and it was not long
before their betrothal was announced. Their engagement was a long one,
as he had resolved first to build a home for his bride, an ambition
that he saw gratified in the spring of 1886 when “The Quarry,” on East
Walnut Hills, became a reality. A June wedding followed, when he was
twenty-eight and she just twenty-five.
This marriage service and all of the details were brought to public
attention in June of 1911, when the President and Mrs. Taft followed
the precedent set by their old friends, President and Mrs. Rutherford
B. Hayes, by also having a silver wedding anniversary celebration, in a
charming reception and dinner at the White House.
Following their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Taft went to Europe on their
honeymoon and started the travelling habit that kept them journeying
about the world until his election to the Presidency settled his
residence for four years.
The most eventful and important of Mr. Taft’s many missions was the
one that took him to the Philippines when President McKinley found
himself, through the fortunes of war, with eight million strange people
on his hands and called upon Mr. Taft to take charge and teach these
people the principles of home government and the ideals of American
citizenship.
He took his family with him, and while he devoted his attention to
organizing system out of the chaos that he found, Mrs. Taft’s sympathy
was aroused at the appalling infant mortality in the Islands and she
concluded to make that her own problem. She eventually persuaded
the native women to accept medical attention and proper food for
their babies. With Mr. Taft’s help, official organization of the work
followed and the charitable association called the “Drop of Milk” was
established, which distributed sterilized milk and thereby accomplished
great improvement in the condition of the Filipino children. Mrs. Taft
had her reward for this interest while on a visit to Manila some years
after the expiration of her husband’s governorship. While he stood in
the great hall greeting all of the governors of the provinces who had
come to meet “Santa Taft,” scores of the native women were clamouring
to see Mrs. Taft and to show her their children, whose lives her work
had saved.
Both Governor and Mrs. Taft spared no pains to win the confidence and
the devotion of their people, and she taxed her resources and ingenuity
to plan festivals and entertainments for the natives. The Venetian
Carnival given at the Governor’s Palace in Manila, and the Annual
Carnival of Flowers, so beautifully worked out, were the results of
their joint interest, and they added to the esteem in which they were
held when they both learned the famous Filipino dance, the rigadoon,
not unlike the minuet, and introduced it at their entertainments.
Some of the stories that found publication at election time and also
during the inaugural festivities are worthy of repetition because of
the qualities of the character of the new President that they reflect.
A local paper contained the following:
“In the peaceful and benevolent assimilation of the Philippines
nothing has ever been so potent as the personality of Mr. Taft, the
former Governor General. Taft was just the sort of man the Filipinos
needed to reconcile them to American rule. His big human qualities,
his strength, and even his corpulency, endeared him to the natives.
“The simple-hearted children of the Orient had been chilled by the
dignity of the Spanish officials. But Taft, with his loud hearty
laughter, his cordial handshake, his beaming face, travelled about the
islands creating good-will wherever he went.
“When Taft went into the Province of Bulacan to introduce civil
government, he naturally inquired for the most prominent citizen
of the place, who proved to be a former captain of volunteers and
a former presidente, Senator José Serapio. The Senator was oozing
dignity. He was uniformed like a bandmaster, and he had medals pinned
all over his chest. He expected to see the great American Governor
coming with resplendent ceremonies and in gorgeous array. But Taft
came along in a suit of light linen, and when he was introduced to
the grandee he grabbed him by the hand and said ‘Howdy,’ in the most
approved American manner.
“Taft appointed the Senator governor of that province, and when
the latter appeared to take charge of his office, the natives were
surprised to see him in plain white clothes. He had laid aside his
dignity with his uniform, and went around shaking hands and saying,
‘Howdy! Glad to see you.’
“Mr. Taft, in the Philippines, preferred to ride a mule, because, he
explained, a horse usually saw him first and mutinied, but the mule
would stand it a couple of days before showing he preferred not to be
ridden. He once kept a formal and gorgeous dinner waiting until he
made sure that his hard-worked mule had been fed.
[Illustration: WILLIAM H. TAFT AND HIS FAMILY]
“The story, much to the credit of his humaneness, was known to a
Minnesota mayor whose observation of mules had been limited to the
smaller breeds. He asked Mr. Taft how big his mule was.
“‘Oh’--indicating the lowest button on his vest--‘about so high.
Weighed about one hundred and fifty pounds, I should judge.’
“‘Mr. Taft,’ the mayor remarked solemnly, ‘I believe you’re a
nature-faker.’
“So he was, too, for the mules he rode in the Philippines were big and
mighty beasts.”
On account of his size, his friends always made commiserating jokes in
regard to the beasts which Taft rode. Another Philippine story refers
to a long and tedious journey he made to the mountains of Bengat.
The Department at Washington knew of the trip, and Mr. Taft reported by
cable direct to Secretary of State Root:
“Arrived safe and sound after riding one hundred miles muleback.”
Secretary Root replied like this:
“Congratulations on your health. How is the mule?”
The native Filipinos fairly worship Mr. Taft. They have a way of
calling him “Santa Taft,” and think, in order to be a great man in
America, one must have a gigantic stature.
When Mr. Taft was appointed Secretary of War, his wife at once
became a popular hostess whose drawing room was always filled with
interesting people. Her knack of remembering faces and names and her
evident interest in the people she met offset a certain austerity made
noticeable by contrast to the geniality of the head of the house,
but due, in her case, largely to a certain diffidence that was lost
entirely during her public life.
Mrs. Taft had been a suffragist all her life, though never of the
aggressive type. Regarding the ballot for woman she said:
“I favour bestowing upon women every civic right, but I should like
to put in a prohibitory clause debarring them from running for
office. If women should indulge in a scramble for office, I think
that the natural scheme would become disjointed and the aim of the
home destroyed. I can see nothing unfeminine in women casting the
ballot, but it seems to me for the present that it is impracticable to
dissociate the right to vote from the right to hold office.”
It was while her husband was Secretary of War that Mrs. Taft showed
her resourcefulness on that long journey which they took with their
ten-year-old son Charlie. The Philippines were opening their first
Assembly and had called “Santa Taft,” who had given them their
government, to come to see what they had done with it. Next, he was to
cross Siberia over the new railroad and return through Europe. Helen
Taft was at the Cathedral School outside Washington, and Robert, the
older son, was at his Uncle Horace Taft’s school at Watertown, Conn.
Few women would have cared to make that trip, crowded with important
entertainments, where one must always look well, through a climate
ranging from Siberian cold to Philippine heat, without a maid, and
with an irrepressible youngster who must always be kept in presentable
condition. But Mrs. Taft did not hesitate. Her place was with her
husband, and it was an opportunity for little Charlie to see the world.
As usual, she was the most charmingly gowned woman at every function
they attended. And best of all, they all had a good time.
It was during this eventful trip that Mr. Taft, in alighting from a
train, snagged an ugly hole in his only pair of dress trousers. This
was tragedy, as he had an appointment to be received by the Czar of
all the Russias. Mrs. Taft did her best, but although her husband
stepped carefully, the cloth gave way again, exposing the knee. Rumour
claims that the imperturbable gentleman merely donned a long coat and
entered the Czar’s presence with it on, and later told the Emperor
the whole story and produced the proof. At any rate, no international
complications ensued with Russia on the grounds of the implied
discourtesy of the American representative in being very late for his
appointment.
Among the many accomplishments Mrs. Taft brought to her régime at
the White House was her skill as a linguist. During her extensive
travels she had devoted time to the study of languages in the
countries she visited, and her ability to converse with some of the
diplomats in their own tongues was a source of great satisfaction and
pleasure. Mrs. Taft kept pace with her husband in public affairs and
during her occupancy of the White House was thoroughly conversant
with political questions that were paramount in interest. But she
limited her discussions and expressions of opinion to the privacy
of the family group. Instead of concerning herself with politics,
she devoted her energies to the changes she wished to bring about
in the management of the forty-room house which Uncle Sam had given
her for a temporary residence. Beginning with the front door, she
substituted coloured-liveried butlers for the blue-uniformed police
who formerly guarded this entrance, and then, at her request, the
position of steward was abolished and replaced by that of housekeeper,
paid by the government at the rate of $1,200 annually. Mrs. Jane
Jaffray, recommended by some of Mrs. Taft’s friends in New York, was
appointed to this position, which was one of great responsibility,
as the housekeeper supervised the servants, all being of equal rank
under her authority. She had charge of the linen and silver, for the
cleaning of which Mrs. Taft installed an electric silver-cleaning
machine, which lessened the labour and saved time. Mrs. Jaffray also
had charge of the china, the pantry, and the refrigerator. The morning
before inauguration, Mrs. Taft took Mrs. Jaffray to the big centre
market and made the rounds of the stalls with her, explaining her
methods and acquainting her with the food the family liked. All of the
marketing during the Taft régime was done by the housekeeper, not only
for the family and the servants, but for the formal entertaining. All
of the catering for the state functions was done in the White House
kitchens, even to the ices and confectionery. Mrs. Taft had always been
a practical, capable manager. Under her direction, the purchasing of
staples was done in wholesale quantities.
Mrs. Taft planned and carried out an elaborate social programme. She
was persuaded that Washington City should be the social centre of the
country and did her best to carry out her ideal, which she explained in
an interview for the New York _American_ as follows:
“It seems to me that, geographically and logically, Washington
should be the representative social city of the land. Here are the
headquarters of the country’s official and diplomatic life, and every
distinguished visitor to our shores comes to Washington for a time.
The home life is more representative, too, than it is in any other
city. No city in the entire country is more beautifully laid out or
has more natural charm during the months given over to official and
social life than Washington. I hope one day to see it the recognized
social centre of the United States.”
To assist her in her social duties, she followed Mrs. Roosevelt’s
example of engaging a social secretary, and Miss Alice Blech filled
this position during the first part of the administration.
President Taft was the first of the Executives to receive the increased
presidential salary. After much discussion, Congress had finally
raised the yearly stipend from $50,000 to $75,000, with an additional
$25,000 for travelling expenses.
Upon his induction into office, President Taft was asked his views upon
serving liquor at the White House functions. He referred his questioner
to a letter he had written to be read in the Sunday schools of the
country a few weeks before. It read in part:
MY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS:
The excessive use of intoxicating liquors is the cause of a great
deal of the poverty, degradation, and crime of the world, and one who
abstains from the use of such liquor avoids a dangerous temptation.
Each person must determine for himself the course he will take in
reference to his tastes and appetites, but those who exercise the
self-restraint to avoid altogether the temptation of alcoholic liquor
are on the safe and wise side.
The state dinners of the Taft administration cost from eight to twelve
dollars per plate, according to their elaborateness and the number and
the personnel of the guests. The diplomatic dinner, being the most
sumptuous, cost around twelve hundred dollars. Mrs. Taft followed no
set rule with reference to the menus or the wine course, the number
of wines served being dependent upon the menu. Cocktails or white
wines with the oysters, claret or sherry with the soups, champagne
with the entrees, champagne, burgundy, or sauterne with the principal
course, port with the sweets, and brandy or cordial to finish with.
Good taste was always the dictator. Outside of the state dinners, no
wines were served at any of the functions save the champagne punch at
the formal receptions, at which a buffet supper was provided usually
of dainty sandwiches, salads, relishes, croquettes, little cakes,
ices, and champagne punch, and coffee. Mrs. Taft served delicious
punch and preferred to make it herself. There is a story to the effect
that, during one of her affairs, to her great distress the supply
became exhausted and she herself descended to the pantry to direct the
preparation of a fresh supply.
One of the charms of the Taft hospitality was the fact that the genial
President and his wife joined their guests in the dining room and
partook of the supper personally.
But the innovation for which Mrs. Taft has received the greatest amount
of praise was the transforming the state functions from the formal
crushes of the past to the smaller, more exclusive, but withal more
enjoyable gatherings where formality was dispensed with as much as
possible, and where the dainty buffet supper was served to hosts and
guests alike in the state dining room. This displaced the former custom
instituted by Mrs. McElroy, in President Arthur’s day, of serving
supper upstairs to the receiving party and the Blue Room guests alone.
By limiting each reception to the class of guests for which it was
intended, Mrs. Taft added greatly to the comfort and pleasure of all
concerned, as under this arrangement there was no necessity for the
long line which moved its tiresome way so slowly through the length of
the entire basement and main floors before reaching the President. The
guests assembled in the East Room until the receiving party had come
downstairs, and then proceeded immediately to shake hands with the
President and greet his wife.
Each reception wound up with an hour or so of dancing in the East
Room, much to the delight of the younger people, especially when the
President would join them, which he almost always did for a few minutes
at least.
Mrs. Taft also personally examined and approved all bills before they
were paid. All her life she had been a careful manager, a fact to
which her husband often referred with pride. Her own fortune, while not
of great proportions, augmented his earnings to such an extent that he
often said, “When Mrs. Taft stops footing the bills, I’ll have to hang
out my shingle.”
Mrs. Taft’s musical tastes led to a great number of delightful musical
entertainments in the White House, and many ambitious young artists had
a chance to be heard by real critics.
None of the protégés of either the President or Mrs. Taft exhibited
such a degree of pride as radiated from the President’s valet, who had
served him in the Philippines and accompanied him to this country. His
particular reason for the pride that brought forth the wrath of the
rest of the servants upon his head was the fact that he boasted of
being a personal servant, paid from the President’s own pocket, and
was unduly scornful of the others, whom he claimed belonged to the
government.
The Taft home life was informal and just like that of any other normal
American family of congenial tastes. They spent many evenings in the
privacy of their own family circle with Mrs. Taft at the piano, as had
been her lifelong practice. While the two older children were away
at school, the house was never dull, as both the Taft and the Herron
families were liberally supplied with young people constantly coming
or going. Mrs. Taft had five sisters and two brothers, all of whom
were married and had families, and the President had three brothers
and one sister likewise similarly blessed with children. So there were
always nephews and nieces to keep things lively. Miss Helen was not so
athletic in her tastes as the Roosevelt girls. She entered Bryn Mawr
at sixteen, and by close study won a scholarship for $300, which gave
her parents great pride. Her début was not made until her college work
was finished. By her own choice, she preferred the scholastic career to
that of a social belle. With Mrs. Taft’s many talents, a live college
girl in the house, the President a fun-maker and mimic, and young
Charlie to furnish boyish pranks and thrills, they never lacked for
amusement among themselves.
The family generally met at breakfast at eight-thirty, Mrs. Taft
following her habit of dressing for the day before this meal. Luncheon
was reduced to an apple for the head of the nation, but he usually
liked to slip in to visit with his family and guests at this hour.
Dinner was at seven-thirty, after which, when they were alone, there
would be music or whist. Whenever he went out, the President would tap
on Mrs. Taft’s door for her to inspect him, to be sure that his hat was
on straight or his bodice not wrinkled, as he facetiously put it.
Mrs. Taft made but few changes in the arrangement of furniture or
rooms. Miss Helen occupied the same suite used by former belles, and
while the members of the family brought but little outside their
trunks, the private apartments soon reflected their individual tastes.
The President hung his father’s portrait in his study, as he had placed
it over every desk he ever occupied.
When the time rolled around for him to relinquish his place to Woodrow
Wilson, he set his office in order, as his wife did the mansion under
her care, bade the congregation of All Souls Unitarian Church farewell
from the pulpit, and slipped out of power with the love and respect of
those associated with him.
Among his hobbies are golf and photograph collecting. After his
appointment to the Supreme Court, Washington welcomed him as her own.
Miss Helen Taft, who for four years occupied one of the most
conspicuous positions in the country, left Washington as unspoiled
as when she came, a little girl, from the Governor’s palace in the
Philippines. Though constantly fêted she found time for the more
serious duties of life and many quiet philanthropies of which the
public knew nothing.
When the Tafts departed for the South after rendering every possible
attention to their successors, a censorious critic of Washington’s
social life gave the following summary to their administration:
“Whatever brilliancy their successors may give to the White House,
to President and Mrs. Taft belongs the distinction of having solved
many problems as to precedent in the conduct of state functions,
etc., which had baffled their predecessors, and of putting soul
into the White House gatherings, a soul which made an invitation
there a pleasure instead of an obligation perfunctorily performed.
Their social record in the White House has been brilliant from
beginning to end. They have seen the duties of their position with a
broadmindedness resulting in a measure from the almost unprecedented
preparation they had for it in years of public life, and they have
lived up to them with a graciousness that has left nothing to
criticize.”
Mrs. Taft has always been a lover of nature, and in all of her travels
about the world has given great attention to the types of flowers and
trees common to each country or locality. Her own garden is always
a dream of beauty in the spring and summer. She gives it especial
attention, making personal visits to each tree, shrub, and clump of
flowers with her gardener.
It is to her artistic vision and understanding, coupled with her
capacity for quick action, that the nation owes the chief beauty of the
Potomac Park. When Mrs. Taft first saw the cherry trees of Japan in
full bloom, she thought them marvellously beautiful and resolved to
obtain some for planting in her own land.
Shortly after she became mistress of the White House, she secured and
had planted a hundred of these trees between the polo field and the
Tidal Basin. Many of them failed to live. Later, Dr. Jakichi Takamine,
noted chemist of Tokio and New York, the inventor of adrenalin and
other important chemicals, learning of her admiration of the lovely
little flowering trees of his native land, offered three thousand as a
gift from Japan in the name of the Mayor of Tokio. They arrived during
the latter part of 1911 and were promptly accepted by Mrs. Taft in the
name of the government. It is the common belief that the arrangement of
their planting in groups of odd and even numbers represents in Japanese
characters a message of welcome.
President and Mrs. Taft did much to popularize the now famous Potomac
Park, once a mosquito-infested swamp, rendezvouz of tramps, and hiding
place of criminals.
As the Taft régime drew to a close, the society women of the city
who were close to the official family--sixty of them--subscribed ten
thousand dollars for the purchase of a testimonial of appreciation of
Mrs. Taft’s ceaseless efforts to make Washington the social centre of
the nation. Miss Mabel Boardman was deputized to make the purchase in
New York. A necklace was decided upon. In order to avoid duplicating
the one Mrs. Taft had long worn, Miss Boardman took along a photograph
of it. On February 21, 1913, a few days before inauguration, Mrs. Taft
was presented with the gift, the beautiful, perfectly matched chain of
diamonds set in platinum with a pear-shaped stone as pendant. At the
same time, the genial President was the recipient of a lovely pearl
scarf pin from the same group.
In the quiet of retirement, Mrs. Taft has compiled an ambitious book--a
story of her own unparalleled experiences in public life.
CHAPTER XV
FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF WOODROW WILSON
_March 4, 1913, to March 4, 1917_
After sixteen years of Republican domination, the Federal government
passed into the hands of Democratic rule on March 4, 1913, with the
inauguration of Woodrow Wilson of New Jersey and Thomas Riley Marshall
of Indiana, after one of the most stormy and eventful of the nation’s
thirty-two presidential elections, which left in its wake a trail of
bitterness, disappointment, and broken friendships, never entirely
forgotten or forgiven by those vitally concerned.
The Wilson family party arrived at Washington in the mid afternoon
of March 3d, going to the Shoreham, where an entire floor had been
reserved for them. Later, they called upon President and Mrs. Taft at
the White House. That evening, they all assembled at the Shoreham for a
family dinner which Mr. Joseph Wilson of Chicago gave in honour of his
brother, President-elect Wilson, and Mrs. Wilson.
On the same day, the first great Suffrage pageant took place. In
parade, it told the story of the long struggle of that party. Led
by Mrs. Richard Coke Burleson, the modern crusaders for “Votes for
Women” marched up Pennsylvania Avenue five thousand strong, with
wonderful floats and bands of stirring music to emphasize their demand
for suffrage through constitutional amendment. The signal for the
procession to start was given by Miss Inez Milholland, the beautiful
young herald, who, astride her handsome horse, wore the yellow of the
heralds of mediæval days.
Her associates like to remember her as she appeared that day, for her
untimely death followed soon after.
To join the gigantic demonstration came “General” Rosalie Jones with
her two hundred weary, footsore pilgrims, who had hiked through mud,
rain, snow, and ridicule from New York. In their drab cloaks and hoods,
carrying their staves, they created much comment.
The cavalry was, perhaps, one of the smartest, most attractive sections
in the procession, mostly young society women who were superbly mounted.
The floats, particularly significant, showed the progress of the
suffrage movement since its beginning in 1840. Later, tableaux
and allegorical dances were given upon the steps of the Treasury,
interpreting the dreams and ambitions of modern womanhood. Many
distinguished and prominent women participated, while hundreds of
others were interested spectators. The demonstration called forth
unstinted praise from every intelligent source. Unfortunate indeed was
the outrageous lack of police protection given the marching women; they
suffered insults and physical injury at the hands of hoodlums. Their
flags and banners were spat upon, lighted cigars and cigarettes were
thrown upon them, and the crowding in upon the line here and there
caused more than a hundred persons to be so trampled and bruised as to
require hospital treatment. The contrast between the calm orderliness
of March 4th and the extreme disorder of the day previous was so marked
that the matter became subject for presidential appeal.
The heads of the various suffrage organizations returned to New York
at once, and the next morning, the following telegram was sent to Mr.
Wilson so that he should receive it before leaving for the Capitol:
PRESIDENT-ELECT WILSON
The Shoreham, Washington, D. C.
As you ride to-day in comfort and safety to the Capitol to be
inaugurated President of the United States, we beg that you will not
be unmindful that yesterday the government which is supposed to exist
for the good of all, left women, while passing in peaceful procession
in their demand for political freedom, at the mercy of a howling mob
on the very streets which are this very moment being so efficiently
officered for the protection of men.
HARRIET STANTON BLATCH,
_For the Women’s Political Union_.
Promptly at ten-fifty on the morning of March 4th, Woodrow Wilson
and Thomas Marshall, President-elect and Vice President-elect, left
the Shoreham Hotel after several hours of cheering ovations by their
respective Princeton and Culver students, and made their way to the
White House, where the President-elect was serenaded by the Princeton
boys with the Princeton anthem, “Old Nassau.” The University of
Virginia students also felt a special claim upon Mr. Wilson and added
their strength of numbers to the student delegation which totalled
three thousand.
There were no particularly distinguishing features in the administering
of the oath to either the new President by Chief Justice White, or
to the Vice President by Senator Gallinger. The drama of the great
political struggle was reflected in the picture presented in the little
group when President Wilson had completed his address. While the crowd
was shouting its enthusiastic approval, Mr. Taft, the retiring leader
of the party, defeated after sixteen years of supremacy, congratulated
his successor thus: “Mr. President, I wish you a successful
administration and the carrying out of your aims. We are all behind
you.” William Jennings Bryan stood at hand, the persistent prophet of
progressive democracy, thrice defeated, and once more possessing his
soul in patience as he accepted a commission from the new President who
was claiming to be mustering forces of humanity, not forces of party.
The long procession of forty thousand marching men which had been
forming while the ceremonies were in progress, followed the President
to the White House. The Essex Troop, made up of college graduates and
young men of means, all of whom owned their handsome mounts, wheeled
into line in full strength to honour their former governor, while the
sixty mounted Culver cadets that composed the famous Black Horse Troop
of that institution found their location as escort to Vice President
Marshall.
Twenty-five hundred Tammany Braves also made the air ring.
The fireworks in the evening were unusually elaborate because of the
omission of the inaugural ball.
All arrangements had been made as usual for the ball, but it was
omitted at the President’s expressed wish. While there were many
rumours as to the reason of its abandonment, the expense involved in
the upheaval of the routine business, the moving of clerks and upset of
office equipment in the huge Pension Building seemed to be the chief
consideration. There was no other structure available in Washington at
that time large enough to accommodate the crowds desiring to attend.
Then, too, soon after election it was known that both Governor and
Mrs. Wilson were indifferent, if not actually opposed, to the idea
of a ball. Mrs. Wilson had been quoted as saying: “I cannot bear to
think of a ball with the modern dances when Woodrow is inaugurated.”
To them both, the ceremony of March 4th carried much of the thought of
dedication, a point of view in accord with the Presbyterian doctrines
in which both were rooted and grounded.
Disappointment was expressed over this departure from precedent, not
so much from a personal standpoint as from a sense of regret over
the breaking up of a cherished institution which had its inception
under the tutelage of the immortal George Washington, who with all
of his dignity and stateliness deemed it a fitting conclusion of the
celebration and an appropriate way to inspire respect and maintain
prestige in the eyes of other nations. Being thoroughly consistent, he
attended and gallantly did his share of dancing with the belles of the
evening.
The inaugural ball was the people’s ball; it was the epitome of
democracy, the externalized embodiment of the American doctrine that
“all men are created equal,” for every class of society had always been
represented, from the highest to the most humble.
Woodrow Wilson’s career as college president had been noted for
the many changes he made, the most radical being the overthrow of
the student aristocracy. As Governor of New Jersey, he had begun
his term by upsetting the political machine. As soon as he became
President the country became aware of the fact that the new Executive
considered rules made for people and not people--especially White House
people--for rules. He daily disregarded precedents for courses of
action which, in his own judgment, were more feasible and expedient.
[Illustration: © _Underwood & Underwood_
WOODROW WILSON AND HIS FAMILY IN 1912]
With the abandonment of the inaugural ball, some anxiety arose about
the social régime of the White House. All doubt on this score was
dispelled, however, when the family began their delightful receptions.
The charming Southern hospitality and the three lively young
daughters gave the mansion an air of joyousness that did not diminish
until the illness of the gracious First Lady cast its shadow over the
entire city. The teas, receptions, garden parties, and dinners all
reflected the wholesome, unaffected cordiality of the hostess.
President Wilson chose for his Cabinet portfolios: State, William
J. Bryan, Nebraska; Treasury, William G. McAdoo, New York; Navy,
Josephus Daniels, North Carolina; War, Bindley M. Garrison, New Jersey;
Postmaster General, Albert S. Burleson, Texas; Interior, Franklin K.
Lane, California; Commerce, William C. Redfield, New York; Agriculture,
David F. Houston, Missouri; Labour, William Wilson, Pennsylvania;
Attorney General, James McReynolds, Kentucky.
Presidential cares were never so engrossing that Woodrow Wilson failed
to respond to the appeal of a child.
On the first Easter Sunday that he was President, he and the family
decided to attend the Eastern Presbyterian Church. During the service
a little six-year-old girl in an adjacent pew divided her attention
between watching the new President and admiring a cherished bundle
in her lap. Just before the service concluded, she leaned over and
handed the package to Miss Eleanor, who, noting it was for the
President, smilingly passed it on to her father. The President glanced
at the package so carefully wrapped in a paper napkin, read the name
and message scrawled in childish script, and justified the child’s
admiration, for he turned, smiled, and bowed his thanks to the little
girl with as profound courtesy and as much evidence of pleasure in his
expression as if the gift had been a priceless jewel instead of being
only a gaudy Easter egg.
The first and most important of the social affairs at the White House
during the first year of the administration was the marriage of Miss
Jessie Woodrow Wilson to Mr. Francis Bowes Sayre, in the East Room,
on November 26, 1913. She was the thirteenth bride of the home of the
presidents. No fears of ill luck haunted her, for her entire family
regarded the number thirteen as their mascot.
For the simple ceremony, a dais approached by two low steps was erected
by the windows facing the Treasury Building, on the spot where Nellie
Grant gave her hand to Mr. Sartoris, and where Alice Roosevelt became
the bride of Nicholas Longworth. A _prie dieu_ covered with white
satin, bride roses, and lilies of the valley stood upon a beautiful
white rug that had been presented by the Minister of Peru and Madame
Pezet. This bit of vicuna fur from South America was especially
interesting because of its virtue of bringing good luck to its owner.
At four-thirty the President escorted his wife to the State dining room
where the bridal procession was forming, and turned her over to Colonel
W. W. Harts, his military aide, who took her to her assigned place in
the East Room. Mrs. Sayre, the mother of the bridegroom, was escorted
to a place opposite.
A fanfare of trumpets and Lohengrin’s march by the Marine Band
announced the approach of the bridal party. The bridesmaids were the
Misses Eleanor R. Wilson, younger sister of the bride; Mary G. White of
Baltimore; Adeline Mitchell Scott of Princeton, and Marjorie Brown of
Atlanta. With them walked the ushers: Benjamin R. Burton of New York;
Charles Evans Hughes, Jr., of New York; Dr. DeWitt Scoville Clark,
Jr., of Salem, Mass., and Dr. Gilbert Horax of Mount Clair, N. J., all
college associates of Mr. Sayre. Miss Margaret Wilson preceded the
bride, who, in the traditional white satin and veil, was escorted by
her father. Miss Wilson was met at the improvised altar by Mr. Sayre,
who was attended by Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell. The Reverend Sylvester W.
Beach, D.D., pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Princeton, N.
J., where Miss Jessie taught a Bible class and where the Wilson family
attended, read the service. The Reverend John Nevin Sayre, brother of
the bridegroom and missionary to China, pronounced the benediction.
For the supper, the table, with its huge wedding cake, was beautifully
decorated. The cake had been made in New York, in two layers, and was
two and a half feet high and three feet in circumference. It weighed
one hundred and thirty-five pounds and was reported to have cost
five hundred dollars. To Miss Margaret’s lot fell the slice with the
ring, and later she caught the bride’s bouquet. The collation in the
State dining room, the same as served to the bridal party, consisted
of Virginia ham, salads, sandwiches, relishes, bonbons, ices, cakes,
coffee, and fruit punch, made in accordance with the bride’s expressed
wish without wine or liquor of any kind.
With the aid of the President’s secretary, Joseph P. Tumulty, and the
White House police, the bridal couple escaped their friends. Then the
ropes were removed and the young people had a delightful dance with the
Marine Band to play.
Next in interest to the White House bride herself, at least to the
women of the land, was her trousseau. In the opinion of critics, Mrs.
Sayre’s wedding outfit, though modest, had been designed with artistic
skill and carried out with materials whose elegance and quality made
her gowns appropriate for all occasions. She planned her clothes to
fit the wants of a college professor’s wife with ample provision for
occasional jaunts to Washington and New York. The wedding gown was
made of lustrous white satin, a product of the now famous Paterson,
N. J., mills, and was adorned with orange blossoms and rare point
lace, an heirloom in Mrs. Wilson’s family. The full court train, which
was fastened at the shoulders, was also adorned with wedding flowers.
The full-length veil was of the finest French tulle and completely
enveloped the bride. It was arranged from a lace cap which was fastened
close to the hair and was adorned with sprays of orange blossoms. Tiny
clusters of the flowers were caught in the veil. The bouquet was a
cluster of bride roses with a shower of buds and ribbon. Mrs. Sayre’s
only jewel was a diamond pendant and chain, the gift of her husband.
The invitations and the announcements of the wedding, except for the
embossed coat of arms of the United States at the top, were plain
enough for any private family. The list of invited guests contained
less than seven hundred names. It included, besides the relatives and
intimate friends of the two families, the members of the Cabinet,
Supreme Court, Diplomatic Corps, the New Jersey delegation in Congress,
and the leaders in Congress.
The bridal presents were such as only a White House wedding could call
forth. They varied in elegance and costliness from the tiny beaded
hand-made purse presented by the four-year-old cousin of the bride, to
the twenty-five hundred-dollar-diamond necklace presented by the House
of Representatives. China and cloisonné vases--gold coffee spoons,
candlesticks, mahogany furniture, and many beautiful gifts of silver
rubbed shoulders with such humble but eminently useful gifts as two
washtubs, six boxes of soap, coal scuttles, a barrel of potatoes,
rag rugs, five bushels of Bermuda onions, a white knitted hammock, a
washing machine, a sewing machine, and an eiderdown quilt.
Mrs. Wilson’s social régime was simple, making up in genuine
hospitality and sincere enjoyment whatever it may have lacked of the
glitter and brilliance of former administrations. Each individual came
away from her receptions with a warm glow of satisfaction because of
her sincere personal greeting. Never did she look bored, even when
toward the last, just before her illness began, she was obliged to sit
down. Generations of gentle ancestry had bequeathed a courtesy that was
as much a part of her as her soft wavy brown hair and expressive dark
eyes.
Formerly Ellen Axson of Georgia, the daughter of a clergyman, Mrs.
Wilson had been reared in the cultural atmosphere of a Southern home,
and educated according to the best traditions of the old South. She
had studied art in New York during the period of her engagement to
Woodrow Wilson. She continued her studies in spite of the demands of
a growing family and a thoroughly domesticated husband. Following
Governor Wilson’s election to the Presidency, she put a collection of
her paintings on exhibition at the Arts & Crafts Guild in Philadelphia,
the proceeds from whose sale were sent to the Martha Berry School of
Georgia. Mrs. Wilson also made a gift to Goucher College of which one
of her daughters was a graduate. After coming to the White House, she
managed to devote some time to art work, fitting up a studio in the
attic, where some of her best canvases were completed.
When Mrs. Wilson first came to Washington, she became interested in
the work of the Woman’s Department of the National Civic Federation,
the District Branch of which, with Mrs. Archibald Hopkins in charge,
was busily working to clean up the alleys and eliminate the slums.
The pitiful condition of many of the old coloured people living in
poverty and squalor had a peculiar appeal to her. The condition of the
children tugged at her sympathies, too. She not only attended the
meetings of the District Branch of the Federation, but made any number
of personal tours of inspection through some of the worst of the city’s
twenty-three miles of alleys and slums.
One of Mrs. Wilson’s earliest expeditions was to Goat Alley, considered
the worst of its kind in the city. She was accompanied by Mrs. E. P.
Bicknell, chairman of the committee on housing of the National Civic
Federation, Mrs. Archibald Hopkins, and two Secret Service men. She
traversed the entire length of the alley on foot and was so impressed
by the conditions she found there that she accepted the position of
honorary chairman of the advisory board of the housing committee, in
order to help actively with the clean-up work.
Mrs. Wilson never indorsed any cause simply by letting her name
be used; so, in the duties of honorary chairman, she worked as
energetically as the rest of the members of the committee. This was
only one of many, many trips she made through the dirty and dismal
byways of the city.
Never did she manifest the aversion and disgust she must have felt,
but went as any serious-minded, interested woman would who sought to
see conditions for herself and the way to better them. She stopped
repeatedly to talk to the children and their parents. There are scores
of poor alley dwellers who will always treasure the wonder of the
moment when the gentle First Lady of the Land stepped down from her
splendid limousine and walked through their midst, with a pleasant word
and a friendly handshake for any and all who greeted her. Time and
again she went home with her dainty gloves stained and grimy. Partly
as a result of her interest, a bill was introduced in Congress for the
reclamation of such pest spots.
Mrs. Wilson was also a frequent visitor to the library of the blind,
where her daughter Miss Margaret, often sang.
Early in her régime as Chatelaine of the White House she began
investigating the sanitary conditions of the various big government
departments. Through her interest, all of the departments now have rest
rooms, sanitary drinking cups, and little branch hospitals where first
aid may be given in case of illness or accident.
The Bureau of Printing and Engraving received one of Mrs. Wilson’s
first visits, and all suggestions made by her were most gladly received
and carried out, with the result that the new building was equipped
with one of the finest rest and lunch rooms for its employees of any
in the country. Just a few days before her death, Mrs. Wilson received
a letter from Public Printer Ford of the Government Printing Office
expressive of the appreciation of himself and the seventeen hundred
women who work there, for her efforts in also securing a rest room for
them.
Among some of the other reforms and improvement projects for the
Capital City in which Mrs. Wilson was interested were such matters as
enforcement of school attendance laws, regulation of child labour,
supervision of dependent and neglected children, provision for the care
of the feeble-minded and for the treatment of drug victims, a parental
school, open-air schools, playgrounds and recreation centres, public
comfort stations, public baths and wash houses; legislation to promote
the use of school buildings as social recreation centres--in fact,
anything that tended toward the good of humanity.
Being of the South, she was naturally interested in every practical
progressive movement that related to that section, and the indorsement
she gave to the work of the Southern mountaineer women was the
best thing that could have befallen them. Like all people with any
self-respect these women did not want charity. They wanted only
opportunity to show their beautiful, old-fashioned hand-made rugs,
carpets, curtains, and counterpanes to people who might be interested
in buying them. Mrs. Wilson allowed them to fit up a room in the
White House with their handiwork, and she exploited it by telling her
friends and having the women of Congress and the Cabinet come to tea
and inspect the exhibit and talk to the weavers themselves. The result
was order after order for the quaint work from the toil-worn hands of
these women, who have preserved a lost art in the remote fastnesses
of their mountain homes, and to whom the chance to sell their work
for real money, not trade it for supplies, was the greatest boon the
President’s wife could confer. When her daughters were married, Mrs.
Wilson purchased numerous pieces of this old-fashioned handwork to be
included among her gifts to them.
To the poorhouse, she constantly sent flowers. Never before did the
poor of Washington receive so liberally of the floral beauties of the
White House conservatories. In hospitals and orphan asylums she was “an
angel,” and to the little newsboys of the street, for she would buy
their papers and laugh away their return change.
A fall due to a slipping rug brought Mrs. Wilson to her bed toward the
close of her busy season. Already worn by the social strain, she was
attacked by a complication of ailments chief of which was Bright’s
disease, that defied the best medical attention. It soon became known
that the President’s wife could not recover. Her daughter Eleanor’s
marriage to William Gibbs McAdoo took place under this shadow.
The night before her death she recalled her interest in the alleys
and slums and mentioned to the President that it would give her much
happiness if the pending bill could be passed. The alley bill passed
the Senate unanimously, and the fact was made known to Mrs. Wilson
during a period of consciousness about two hours before she died.
The hurried adjournment of Congress following her death prevented
the bringing up of the bill in the House at that time; but that body
approved the measure later.
All through her illness, her constant and chief concern was that the
President be kept in ignorance of her suffering. Toward the end, she
put a charge upon Dr. Cary Grayson, saying:
“If I go away, Doctor, promise me you will take care of my husband.”
It was August 6, 1914, that Mrs. Wilson died. She had won the hearts of
the people by her sympathy toward all in need and suffering. The nation
grieved with the White House family. Her death was a shock such as
Washington had not felt for years. When the big iron gates were closed
and locked, the shades drawn, and the sombre emblem of death hung from
the door of the White House, the whole city responded to the grief
within, lowered its flags, and stopped its merrymakings and frolics.
Telegrams flooded the White House, and flowers filled the rooms. They
came from every class and degree of society from the newsboys to the
representatives of foreign governments; and from the handsome offerings
of the Boy Scouts to the simple bouquet of some lowly protêgê. The
interment was in Georgia.
For a time, President Wilson seemed to find continuous work the only
relief from sorrow.
With the combined strength and influence of his Cabinet he turned his
attention to securing the passage by Congress of a new tariff bill.
During this time the Federal Reserve bill had become a law; President
Madero of Mexico had been deposed and assassinated; Huerta was
fighting for recognition; the insult to the United States Flag on April
9, 1914, had called for action; and Vera Cruz was occupied by Marines
in consequence.
When rumour started that President Wilson was planning to bring a new
First Lady to the White House, great interest and much excitement
prevailed.
The third President to wed in office, Woodrow Wilson formed what
the most severe critics termed a thoroughly suitable match. Both he
and his charming fiancêe, Mrs. Edith Bolling Galt, had been married
before, both had passed through similar griefs, and life for each had
been crowded with enriching experiences. They had so many tastes in
common, were natives of the same state, admirably matched by birth,
circumstances, and experience to form an ideal life partnership.
From the time their betrothal was announced until the date of the
wedding was officially named, two months later, all Washington kept a
ceaseless vigil on the comings and goings of these two, and watched
with approving but suspicious eyes all of their rides, drives, and
walks, their games of golf, their theatre attendance and appearance at
public functions, lest at some opportune moment a marriage would occur
without previous announcement. When, finally, the date was set and made
public, speculation ran rife as to the ceremony and its interesting
details.
But President Wilson and Mrs. Galt followed solely their own personal
predilections for a simple ceremony, and in making all of their
arrangements acted as plain citizens. They were married in the presence
of their respective families in the home of the bride just off Dupont
Circle, December 18, 1915. Nothing of pomp or ostentation occurred.
All of the trappings of state, the brilliant uniforms of the naval
and military aides, the jewelled decorations and glittering lace of
the foreign diplomats were missing. Not even the dignitaries of the
Supreme Court and the President’s Cabinet were included in the small
group witnessing the ceremony that was to place the social crown of
leadership upon the brow of another bride.
Promptly at eight-thirty the President ascended the flower-decked
stairway and escorted Mrs. Galt to the improvised altar. The Rev.
Herbert Scott Smith, rector of St. Margaret’s Episcopal Church, of
which the bride was a member, and the Rev. James H. Taylor, pastor of
the Presbyterian Church, where the President and his family attended,
awaited them. The choicest and loveliest of blossoms added beauty to
the setting of the ceremony. The white satin _prie dieu_, which had
figured in several of the White House weddings, on which the bridal
couple knelt to receive the final blessing, was decorated at either end
with clusters of delicate orchids, the bride’s favourite flower.
The marriage service occupied about twenty minutes, and, shortly after
ten o’clock, the President and Mrs. Wilson entered a waiting White
House limousine and were rapidly driven to Alexandria to take the train
to Hot Springs, Va.
The wedding supper, being virtually a family party, was a merry one.
The bride cut her wedding cake with the same cake knife used by her
mother at her own wedding. The cake was not supplied with the usual
fortune-telling knick-knacks but was instead a rich fruit cake, made
in several tiers, elaborately iced and decorated with frosted flowers.
The top held a cluster of pink orchids. No boxes were distributed, but
several of the guests were provided with pieces to “dream on.”
Mrs. Wilson was the widow of Norman Galt of Washington, D. C., a member
of a well-known firm of jewellers in the national capital. She had
resided in Washington twenty years before her marriage to President
Wilson, during which time she had been known for her interest in
charitable and church affairs. She is the daughter of the late Judge
William H. Bolling of Virginia, and Mrs. Bolling, and claims descent
from John Rolfe, famous as the husband of Pocahontas.
Because of international complications, the plans for an extended
wedding trip were abandoned at the last moment, and only a brief trip
arranged within easy reach of the Capital.
The sympathetic interest in the White House romance expressed itself in
gifts of all kinds and descriptions, coming from all sources and from
all classes of people. Finally, the numbers of presents reached such
proportions that the effort which had been made to catalogue, classify,
and acknowledge them had to be abandoned by Mrs. Wilson’s secretary and
be delegated to the White House office staff.
Because of the desire of the President to keep all of the details of
his marriage as simple and informal as possible, the names of most of
the donors of the gifts were withheld from the public. A few, however,
were known.
The joint gift of the Virginia delegation in Congress was a silver
loving cup in the form of a beaker with massive silver handles. It
stands two feet high on a pedestal of ebony, and is appropriately
inscribed. Citizens of Wytheville, the birthplace of Mrs. Galt, sent
handsomely framed miniatures of the bride’s father and mother, Judge
and Mrs. Bolling, painted by Miss Ellen Douglass Stuart, a niece of the
late Gen. J. E. B. Stuart and a talented artist.
Among the most unique of Mrs. Wilson’s gifts were a wonderful scarf
sent by the former Queen of Hawaii; the statuette of Pocahontas, the
gift of the Pocahontas Memorial Association; the queer old painting of
Pocahontas sent from Scotland in recognition of Mrs. Wilson’s descent
from the Indian maid; the gift of the splendid collection of furs
from the Blackfeet Indians of the National Glacier Park reservation,
consisting of the selected skins of forty-eight animals native to the
western part of the United States; a bracelet of Brazilian gems and an
ornament of rare tropical feathers presented by Dr. A. J. de O’lvera
Botelho of Brazil, the first of the delegates to arrive in Washington
from the Pan-American Scientific Congress; and a basket woven from
Georgia pine needles and filled with the biggest Georgia pecans the
Confederate veteran giver could find.
The Wilson honeymoon and all of its details were of such interest that
papers published estimated summaries of the expense involved as follows:
COST OF WILSON HONEYMOON
Special train $ 400
Room and board for the President and Mrs. Wilson 480
Rooms and board for President’s valet 64
Room and board for maid 64
Transportation autos 120
Room and board for stenographer 96
Room and board for seven Secret Service men 352
Salary for Secret Service men 688
Garage fees and gasoline 48
Servants’ wages 48
Salary of stenographer 64
Tips and fees 75
Flowers 240
------
Cost to President $2,739
Cost to newspapers of telling Americans all about it $16,000
Upon returning to Washington, President Wilson took hold of his
problems with new vigour. Mrs. Wilson, a Virginian of distinguished
lineage, proceeded to brighten up the White House and carry on its
traditions of hospitality so charmingly inaugurated by Ellen Axson
Wilson, whom she had never known, since she did not become acquainted
with the President until a number of months after his wife’s death.
When the President’s friendship with Mrs. Galt was noted and their
betrothal predicted, rumours were circulated that the political leaders
of his party were filled with anxiety lest the wedding prior to the
election result in his defeat. Their idea was that the influence of the
women of the land would be directed against him if he were to remarry
so soon after Mrs. Wilson’s death. While little conferences were held
and it was agreed that the matter should be presented to the President,
no one would undertake the mission.
In the last year of the first term, when criticism of his personal life
and executive performances was at high tide, just prior to election,
Professor Stockton Axson, brother of the President’s first wife, one
who had long been a member of the Wilson household in Middletown and
Princeton, was moved to write some of his reminiscences of the Wilson
home and family life, through his own desire to present to the public a
side of the President’s character little known.
This article appeared in a New York paper in October, 1916. In
his story, Professor Axson painted a picture of two Southern
families--neighbours. The fathers, Presbyterian clergymen, were close
friends in perfect accord on the tenets of Calvinism and the causes
and effects of the Civil War; their children typical of a friendship
so strong that each set regarded the adults of the other family as
relatives, calling them Aunt and Uncle through life. Each family
adopted as its own, for special regard, the relatives and in-laws of
the other, and they shared joys, sorrows, and successes. This was the
environment in which Woodrow Wilson, then called “Tommy,” grew up. It
has been said that, when Ellen Axson was a wee infant a few days old,
little Tommy Wilson paid her his first call.
Of the romance of these two, Professor Axson wrote:
“It was in 1883 that Woodrow Wilson and Ellen Axson became engaged.
She was visiting friends in the North Carolina mountains when my
father fell seriously ill. He had to summon her by telegraph--my
mother had died two years before, and my sister was the responsible
member of the family. She went to Asheville to catch a train, but as
she had several hours to wait for it she went to a hotel and whiled
away the time reading by a window.
“As fate would have it, Woodrow Wilson was driving in the mountains,
passed the hotel, chanced to look up, and saw her profile at the
window. The two had been together in Rome the previous summer, and it
needed just that unexpected encounter in the North Carolina mountains
to show them what life held for each and both of them.”
Professor Axson spoke of his sister and her husband as being “more
truly one than any two people” he had ever seen. He said they literally
married each other’s family, never seeming to feel any difference
between those of their blood and those related by marriage. Two
brothers and a sister of Mrs. Wilson were also members of the Wilson
family circle for long periods. He paints Woodrow Wilson as boyish,
tender, generous, considerate, whimsical, and fun loving, and cites an
instance of the depth of the family affection.
A favourite uncle of Mrs. Wilson was a visitor. From long custom, upon
retiring he put his boots outside his bedroom door to be blacked. The
young professor saw them. The Wilson household maintained no valet
and the Bridget of the kitchen did not include boot blacking in her
schedule of duties. Mr. Wilson concluded that Uncle Tom expected to
have his boots blacked for him, and as there was no one else to do it,
it fell to his lot to do them, and he did, telling the joke on himself.
This couple took colour from each other, each reflecting the other’s
moods and tastes in books, pictures, music, and architecture. In
the Wilson household, love ruled supreme. The husband and father,
an incorrigible tease and fun-maker, could never be outdone in
story-telling. One could never tell him a new story. His fund of
anecdotes was inexhaustible, and in his clever telling of them he
caught the spirit and personality of the principals.
Professor Axson said that, when Mrs. Wilson died, the President was
the loneliest, most desolate man in the world. It was not long before
his family and close friends began to hope he would remarry, and when
he did, his first wife’s people joined his own in their affectionate
welcome to the new First Lady. He claims they loved her for herself
and for what she did for Woodrow Wilson in giving him new life,
companionship, and the love he had to have to enable him to go on.
While President Wilson was nominated in the Democratic Convention
without opposition, the election was a close and exciting contest.
Charles Evans Hughes of New York, the Republican nominee, was
reported elected and all of the country went to bed, election night,
President Wilson included, with the idea that Hughes was to be the
next President. Admiral Cary T. Grayson, the President’s physician, is
authority for the statement that, while the Wilson family and friends
were distressed and depressed over the returns that spelled defeat upon
election night, President Wilson was in the best of spirits. He sensed
a lifting of the yoke and was full of elation. Finally, the Admiral,
believing defeat certain, attempted consolation predicting that, in
another four years, the American people would call him back to the
Presidency.
With the twinkle that always prefaced a story, he replied: “No,
Grayson, I am like the Confederate soldier who returned to his home
after Lee’s surrender. He looked at his wrecked farm, where the
buildings had been burned, the stock run off or killed, and the fences
torn down. He looked at his bare bleeding feet and at his one remaining
arm in a sling and remarked: ‘I am glad I fought; I’m proud of the part
I played; I have no regrets; but--I’ll be damned if I ever love another
country.’”
For three days, the election decision hung in the balance, and then
belated returns gave the majority to President Wilson.
His first administration had witnessed many events fraught with import
to the nation’s history. He had been confronted with stupendous
problems. The Panama Canal had been opened for traffic in August,
1915. The Mexican situation had grown more acute after the deposition
of Madero and his death. In 1916, sixty thousand men of the United
States National Guard and regulars had been stationed along the border.
The Seventeenth Amendment to the Constitution had been ratified,
thus providing for the direct election of United States Senators.
The Federal Trade commission had been established, and the Clayton
Anti-Trust measure enacted.
For days the Suffragists had picketed the White House with their
unfurled banners silently pleading their cause in their efforts to win
presidential support. On this amendment the President had steadfastly
refused to commit himself, although besieged publicly and privately. At
one reception soon after his marriage, a prominent suffrage leader went
through the line with her set suffrage appeal all ready to recite to
the President when she should be presented. Instead, when she reached
him and his wife, she gazed at Mrs. Wilson a minute and exclaimed
enthusiastically: “Oh! Mrs. Wilson, you are so much _more_ beautiful
than your pictures!” The speech was forgotten in the beaming smile she
received from the President, who fully appreciated her statement and,
turning to his wife, said triumphantly, “I told you so.” She always
claimed that, in the end, the compliment was more effective than the
speech would have been, although the next suffrage leader in line was
able to say her bit without interruption.
In February, 1916, Lindley M. Garrison, resigned his post as Secretary
of War because of his dissatisfaction over the President’s attitude
toward defense legislation.
As Inauguration time approached, the issues of the campaign were still
sending their echoes throughout the country. The upheaval of Europe was
being felt in America.
Students of the World War and its progress cannot fail to be impressed
with the extremely difficult position of the United States as the
principal neutral power. From the moment the Austrian tragedy unloosed
the tempest, in the summer of 1914, embroiling all of Europe, down
to the time of the destruction of the _Lusitania_, the volume of
American sentiment had been swinging steadily, though more or less
unconsciously, toward a demand that the horrors of the European type
of warfare be terminated. Our own participation to force this end was
a possibility that was pushed into the remote background of dreaded,
unadmitted probabilities, despite the fact that the loudest clamour for
continued neutrality found its expression in the campaign slogan of
approval of Wilson’s policy, “He kept us out of war,” and brought him
his reëlection.
How closely the two great tides of public opinion were paralleling
each other was proved by the closeness of the election in which
preparedness and anti-preparedness were paramount campaign issues.
Neutrality won the election, but it took only the announcement of the
German policy of unrestricted submarine warfare in January, 1917, to
clarify the public vision of its cobwebs of reluctance and fear and
bring the reëlected President, just a month prior to his inauguration,
to sound the first war tocsin for America in his curt note to Germany
and his appeal to Congress to sever all relation with her.
So swiftly had the succession of events swung the United States
into the great struggle that the public accepted, with dignity and
characteristic patriotism, President Wilson’s statements--“Neutrality
is no longer feasible or desirable where the peace of the world is
involved and the freedom of its peoples,” and “The world must be made
safe for Democracy.”
CHAPTER XVI
SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF WOODROW WILSON
_March 4, 1917, to March 4, 1921_
On sunday, March 4th, Woodrow Wilson went to the Capitol, and in the
President’s room, in the presence of a small group of officials, took
again the oath of office, reconsecrating himself to its obligation. The
Bible he used was the one on which he had been sworn in as Governor
of New Jersey and as President of the United States at his first
inauguration.
On Monday, the public ceremony occurred on the East Portico, as was
customary, there being but little deviation from previous programmes.
Mrs. Wilson established a precedent by riding to the Capitol with her
husband, the first time this had ever been done. Mrs. Marshall followed
her example.
The parade was remarkable for the many innovations that were
introduced. The first radical departure from the beaten path was
that regular army soldiers served as the presidential escort. By the
expressed wish of President Wilson, Troops B, C, and D of the 2d
Cavalry, stationed at Fort Myer, comprised his escort. This regiment
had been closely identified with the growth and glory of our nation.
Hitherto, militia from the states of the incoming Executive and his
running mate had been given the honour.
Catching the spirit of the people as he went toward the Capitol,
President Wilson decided to smash another precedent, and when it came
time for him to give his address, he requested the withdrawal of the
military immediately in front of the stand so that the public might
occupy that space and hear his address. There were more than fifty
thousand people massed on the plaza trying to catch his words.
The ride from the Capitol to the White House was made quickly, so that
the family luncheon party should see the review. Special arrangements
for comfort had been made, the stand having been enclosed in glass,
carpeted with a Persian rug, and fitted with large easy chairs.
Just opposite, in the Court of Honour, seventy-five men dressed in
uniforms of officers of the Continental Army were stationed as honour
guard to the President.
Most significant and novel in the parade was the woman’s section,
made up of several thousand women of all sects, beliefs, political
persuasions, crafts, trades, and professions. For the first time, a
woman had been permitted to serve on the Inaugural Committee, and it
was the boast of Mrs. James H. Boggs, the chairman of this section,
that all women were welcome, politics and partizanship being submerged
in the patriotic efforts to demonstrate what women could do. Her
escort, to correspond to that of Colonel R. N. Harper, inaugural
chairman, was an equestrian squadron. It was made up of Virginia
horsewomen, about three hundred of them, gay and festive in their
brilliant red velvet riding jackets, black velvet skirts, and smart
black silk beavers. Prominent, also, was the Pennsylvania Women’s
Woodrow Wilson League, and the khaki-clad Girl Scouts, of whom there
were several hundred. Their sturdy little colour bearers struggled
valiantly with their banners against the stiff wind.
A large number of student organizations marched in the parade. With war
crashing over Europe, and the United States facing participation, it
seemed as though the committee made extra efforts to demonstrate to the
assembled units the amount of man power this country was ready to put
behind its President.
For the first time in the history of the country, a distinctive part
was played in the inauguration by the government departments. By
joint resolution of both Houses of Congress, the executive department
and various branches of the government in Washington were authorized
to give for two weeks an exhibit of their activities and methods of
transacting business. The entire project was called “Uncle Sam at
Work,” and was arranged and managed by the various chiefs of bureaus,
assisted by the Federation of Citizen’s Associations of Washington.
President Wilson had asked his Cabinet to remain with him in the new
term. The note to Germany, conflicting with Secretary Bryan’s pacifist
views, brought his resignation as Secretary of State. The appointment
of Robert Lansing to the post thus left vacant was universally
satisfactory. Newton D. Baker succeeded Lindley M. Garrison in the
difficult and vitally responsible position as Secretary of War.
In little more than a month after Wilson’s second term opened,
all pretence of peace for the United States was thrown aside. The
President, following the action of Congress, proclaimed war with
Germany on April 7, 1917.
With this act, the Capital City’s aspect changed. Mrs. Wilson closed
the White House to visitors and locked the gates to tourists and
all except those with definite appointments. To save and produce,
she borrowed a flock of twenty blooded sheep from Bel Air farm in
Maryland and turned them loose upon the White House lawns to keep the
grass in order, in place of a labourer, and, incidentally, to grow a
profitable crop of wool. So well did these sheep follow the aim of
their distinguished shepherdess that, when the first shearing time
came, ninety pounds of wool were cut and two pounds sent to each state
to be sold for Red Cross work. More than fifty-two thousand dollars was
made. The bidding ran high in some places where there was keen desire
to possess White House wool. The next shearing, which proved almost as
profitable, was turned over to the Salvation Army for its fund raising.
Mrs. Wilson had no desire for publicity or for doing spectacular things
either to promote the popularity of her husband or herself, but she
used every personal effort to promote and inspire many of the different
phases of war work that the participation of the United States
demanded. Every woman of the Cabinet followed her lead.
Mrs. Marshall was a host in herself. The home life of the Marshalls had
become traditional for the devotion between the genial, humorous Vice
President and his wife. In all of the twenty-odd years of their married
life, they had not allowed themselves to be separated overnight. Mrs.
Marshall had always kept a bag packed ready to depart upon a moment’s
notice for any trip the one-time Hoosier governor might elect to take.
She campaigned with and for him, and her understanding and support
aided him not only in his election, but also in his filling the very
difficult rôle through eight years as understudy to President Wilson.
Mrs. Marshall infused a delightful spirit in the group of Senatorial
wives over which she presided. Their weekly luncheons became informal
clearing houses for all of their individual problems, and developed
into an institution of force and achievement. Their work in volume and
quality during the war was an example to the women of the land, when
“Do your bit” had become a household slogan.
None of the ladies of the Cabinet gave more royally of her time and
energies than Mrs. Robert Lansing, wife of the Secretary of State. She
had been known, trusted, and loved since her girlhood in the Foster
home when her father was a Cabinet Minister. Her chairmanship of a
measure insured its success. She was head and shoulders in the Red
Cross, the Y. W. C. A., and every other organized relief measure where
her personal interest and backing might count. No snarl of red tape or
personal friction in any of the great projects was too complicated for
her diplomatic wisdom to adjust.
Mrs. Herbert Hoover gave her time and strength to one of the great
weak spots--the care of the government workers--the planning for
accommodations for housing and feeding in a city that tripled its
population almost overnight without the facilities or the expert
knowledge of expanding to meet the growing demand. From her experiences
with her husband during the Boxer uprising, where he obtained his
first fame as a food administrator, and during his work on the Belgian
and other relief councils upon which she had served with him, Mrs.
Hoover had learned skilfully to combat hardships imposed by war. With
practical common sense she set to work to convert available empty
houses, when such could be obtained, into dormitories with the simplest
of necessities and a few of the comforts of home, for the thousands of
young women who flocked to Washington to enlist in clerical service. As
men were released for war service, women had to take their places. Mrs.
Hoover began in her husband’s Food Conservation Bureau and gradually
found herself in demand for a problem of army proportions.
Mrs. Josephus Daniels, wife of the Secretary of the Navy, sister of
Worth Bagley, of Spanish War fame, was the good angel for the men of
the navy, while Mrs. Newton D. Baker, wife of the Secretary of War, was
tireless in her promotion of the welfare and comfort of the soldiers.
Recreation seemed to be the big necessity. Mrs. Baker sang as often as
her strength would allow, and gave her executive powers to promoting
the organization of community service.
Mrs. William Gibbs McAdoo worked in the interest of Liberty Loans. She
and Mrs. Longworth were conspicuous in this type of activity. Later,
when the terrible scourge of influenza hit the Capital and war workers
died like flies, Mrs. McAdoo, wife of the Secretary of the Treasury,
came to the rescue with a diet kitchen to supply all of the invalids
connected with the Treasury Department with broth and nourishment. This
work was enlarged and continued through the utilization of trained Girl
Scouts until the last of the dependent convalescents no longer needed
it.
Mrs. Albert Sidney Burleson found a stupendous task in looking after
the many employees of the Postmaster General’s department, and the same
was true of the wife of Attorney General Gregory.
This record does not begin to sum up the contribution these women and
all other women workers made to the war cause, but is given as an
illustration of the serious attitude toward the war taken by the First
Lady of the Land and her official family.
Mrs. Wilson, from the day of her marriage, submerged her life in that
of her husband and spent herself upon her end of the presidential job.
In the first days of their life together, they were given to horseback
riding. Democrat and Murat carried them through the highways and byways
of the District. As the weight of war bore down upon the President
with its crushing cruelty, however, the task of keeping him physically
and mentally fit required all her energies.
She it was who had to buoy him up, infuse the brightening bit of
humour, and shore up with her courage a frame all unconsciously
beginning to sag. No longer was the mercurial temperament of
college-professor days able to rebound at the whip lash of his Irish
wit. The elasticity of the mental processes of the Governor of New
Jersey, which had fitted a limerick-making contest with his daughters
in between matters of state and political campaigning, still manifested
its amazing control in his methodical grasp of public matters, but
the capacity to shut the doors of his mind on grave problems and turn
instantly to humorous relaxation was gone. President Wilson’s power of
concentration which enabled him to dispose of question after question
with such amazing celerity was the wonder of his Cabinet. Accuracy
and precision of method he required of those about him. His own mind
grasped the essentials and presented conclusions with a rapidity that
amounted to genius, enabling him to observe the schedules he set for
his official appointments in the forenoons. Delegations and commissions
from abroad seeking financial help all had to be received and
entertained. France, England, Italy, Russia, Belgium, Japan, and Serbia
sent over their premiers and great statesmen. The White House extended
its welcome to Mr. Balfour, Marshal Joffre, M. Viviani, Prince Udine,
Signor Guglielmo Marconi, Viscount Ishii of Japan, and M. Vesnitch of
Serbia, during the period between late May of 1917 and January of 1918.
Mrs. Wilson was importuned to join all of the war projects. She always
held her interest and membership on the board of a local hospital,
and never let her interest in church work lapse. But she had her war
mission cut out for her and let nothing infringe upon it. She worked
with her hands, knitting, sewing, and writing personal letters to the
mothers of soldiers who wrote to her. But first, last, and always, her
main job was a watchful care of the President, who was being ground to
bits on the wheel of public criticism and opposition and the feeling of
his own responsibility to his government.
Chiefly a “home body” in the old-fashioned sense, Mrs. Wilson had never
visited the White House during her long residence in Washington until
she one time accepted an invitation to tea from Miss Helen W. Bones,
the President’s cousin. But when the mansion became her home, she took
the most abiding interest in its care. Her taste was everywhere in
evidence. But not an unnecessary dollar was allowed to be spent for it
after war was declared. The wall coverings became discoloured before
the President would consent to new ones, and then the former design was
duplicated. The rugs, shabby and worn, were made to answer. Because of
expense, only state apartments received any refurbishing.
Although Mrs. Wilson eliminated the regular social activities of normal
times, she received daily the distinguished people war brought to
Washington. Usually, she merely served tea, charmingly and informally.
Often-times, however, as in the case of the visit of Prince Axel of
Denmark, a more formal entertainment was required.
In between her war work and golf for the President’s benefit, she
turned to selecting and fitting up a billiard room at one end of the
ground-floor corridor. Here she beguiled her husband into many hours
of relaxation. A large fireplace and some of the President’s favourite
possessions made it an attractive spot. She also set aside and fitted a
room to hold the historic White House china, which Mrs. Roosevelt had
started collecting. Little cabinets were built in the walls in keeping
with the architecture of the house. As new china was needed for use in
the White House, Mrs. Wilson inveigled the President into helping her
plan the new service of 1,700 pieces to be ordered. His suggestion that
the seal of the President be embodied in the design instead of the coat
of arms of the United States was the basis of the decoration of the
ivory and white service known as the Woodrow Wilson design.
The volcano of war was shaking the entire world. America was pouring
her measure of manhood and money into the great chasm abroad. The
proclamation of war with Austria was followed by conflicts such as the
world had never before visioned. Then the armistice was signed. Joy
beyond description broke forth over the whole United States.
The President felt he must go to Paris. He had his plan for peace
and resolved that he and he alone must win its acceptance in Europe.
Despite the uproar of protest, despite every argument and appeal of
Congress and his Cabinet, he dashed another time-honoured precedent
into smithereens, and left the United States in December, 1918,
arriving in Paris December 15th. He remained away two months.
Mrs. Wilson’s memories must be as rich and colourful as the lovely
wine-tinted velvets and the purple-shaded brocades and crêpes that she
wore on her trips with her husband while he addressed statesmen and
received the loud acclaim of the masses. The King and Queen of Belgium
paid them every honour, as did all of the other crowned heads, princes,
and presidents wherever their journeys took them in their tour of the
war-devastated nations. Showers of violets were tossed into their
carriage, and every demonstration made to express the unparalleled
love and esteem in which the President of the United States was held.
Then he settled himself at the conference table to expound the
philosophy and reason in his plan with its fourteen points. While he
was honoured by the rulers of Europe, admired for his knowledge, and
enjoyed for his wit, his training as an American scholar could not
encompass the sophistry and diplomacy of the veteran officials of
Europe. Schooled in the wiles of intrigue, with its admissions and
evasions, they kept their ears to the ground for the murmur of the
American public and fixed a weather eye upon the American Congress at
Washington.
In February, the President and Mrs. Wilson, laden with rare and costly
gifts and tributes of all descriptions, turned their faces homeward.
They were given a tremendous reception in Boston. After taking up the
threads of his work at home for a few weeks, the President became
convinced that he must return to Europe. Leaving again in March, he
gave his whole mind and body to getting the Allied Peace Treaty signed,
which was done June 28, 1919. Then he turned to face his most difficult
task--to have the Treaty ratified at home with the League of Nations
covenant incorporated.
He returned to Washington in July, to be confronted by a bitter
struggle with Congress. Determined to win the states by convincing the
people at large, he started on his tour of the country on September 3d.
Those who travelled with him recall his thoughtfulness of his party
and the solace and pleasure he derived from his wife’s presence and
her watchful charge of him. She could always coax a smile, and though
he was weighted with cares and anxieties, his inherent wit and humour
would respond to her effort to amuse him.
She lived in a dread that she had to keep concealed. She knew he was
breaking, and when at Wichita the collapse came that cancelled the trip
and removed him from the active political stage, it was no more than
the culmination of the fear that had haunted her for months.
Throughout the President’s long illness and up to the moment when
Warren G. Harding took office, Mrs. Wilson’s life at the White House
was full. She was called upon to perform many services for her country
far beyond the mere wifely duties of caring for a loved sick one. The
iron of criticism burned into her soul when his helplessness, incurred
in the line of duty as surely as the wound of any soldier on the field,
was turned against him. With an outward stoicism, she busied herself
with the job of keeping her husband alive and of getting him well
enough to handle the reins of the government himself, before they were
tugged out of his limp hand by governmental action.
Vice President Marshall was approached by men of both parties and
pressed to assume the executive duties when it became known in a
limited circle that the President had suffered two cerebral strokes and
that his death was considered imminent. The Vice President steadily
refused to act other than as a substitute in such formal matters as the
reception and entertainment of distinguished visitors as in the case
of the King and Queen of Belgium. Until the President resigned or some
properly constituted tribunal declared the government without a head,
he would not assent to any such plan.
Mrs. Wilson adapted herself to her husband’s moods. With the instinct
of a loving woman she knew the struggle of this man, dominant,
autocratic, and self-sufficient, baffled in his efforts to put his
policies into execution. She staged every diversion that would tend
toward relaxation.
When the trembling, scraggly signature to the state documents brought
forth a fresh attack of criticism and a more determined effort to
bring about the transfer of authority which Mrs. Wilson felt would
be contrary to her husband’s wishes and the best interests of his
following, she managed to secure a type of writing board which
supported the weak hand in its work of inscribing the necessary
“Woodrow Wilson” in the proper place.
The President’s pleasure in motion pictures resulted in Mrs. Wilson’s
having a regular daily show for his benefit in the East Room during
1920 and 1921, until the morning of the 3d of March. Producers
everywhere sent films. In all, more than 400 pictures were shown, many
of them first productions. When he was able to go about in his wheeled
chair, he liked to be taken over the house. The daily trip diverted
him. On pleasant days he visited the sun parlour on the roof.
Following his collapse, for five months he lay a shattered wreck, and
it was February, 1920, before he was able to make his first motor trip.
President Wilson decided to make his permanent home in Washington, and
purchased a commodious dwelling on S Street, where he had as neighbours
the family of Herbert Hoover.
As the term drew to a close, Mrs. Wilson personally supervised the
moving of their belongings--those from her own house in which she was
married, and the new things purchased--so that the President might
find his home all settled when he was taken to it from the Capitol
after Mr. Harding’s installation. Feeble, worn, white, and thin, his
helpless hands and wavering feet were placed for him when he took his
seat beside Warren Harding for the ride to the Capitol on March 4th.
His appearance brought an ovation, and Mr. Harding’s care of him was
a matter of wide comment. Ex-President Wilson did not remain for all
of the ceremony, but returned to his home, which became a mecca for
pilgrimages of his followers until his death.
Few of our Presidents have dipped more deeply into the well of
experience in the short period of eight years than did Woodrow Wilson.
His mental processes embraced every variety of emotion in the human
category. Circumstance and ambition led a tortuous path through
victory, defeat, sorrow, love, courtship, marriage, responsibility
for plunging his nation into war, and an even greater one of pulling
it out again and establishing it in the ways of peace and order. He
knew the alternating triumph of being hailed the saviour of Europe and
the god of peace, and of being hissed from people’s esteem; of being
applauded as a prophet of a new order and denounced as an autocrat both
in his own land and abroad. Hated and loved like Lincoln, he pursued
the course he had mapped out, believing he had found the solution for
lasting peace. Europe accepted his solution, but his own countrymen
refused it.
One of the great war Presidents of our land, he made a place in
history a rightful judgment of which is beyond the powers of his
contemporaries. It must be left to future generations. But with
whatever historians accredit him of honour or censure, they must record
his courage and independence in setting aside precedents that hampered
his way. When, as President, he left the country, contrary to all
established precedent, he was regarded as the saviour of Europe; he
wielded power and dictated terms beyond the scope of kings. Under his
leadership, the United States abandoned its tradition of isolation and
entered the vast mêlée with five million of her men and many billions
of her money, and placed an army on a battleline across three thousand
miles of sea.
[Illustration: DEMOCRACY AND ROYALTY
_Left to right_: Queen Elizabeth of Belgium, President Woodrow Wilson,
Mrs. Woodrow Wilson, and King Albert of Belgium]
In the light of his struggle and the opposition that attended it,
his last public utterance is of deep interest. He spoke from the
porch of his S Street home on Armistice Day of 1923. It was estimated
that nearly ten thousand people had assembled in the street to do him
honour. He paid tribute to the men who had fought, expressed his pride
and pleasure at having been the commander-in-chief at that time, and
concluded with the following words, which were spoken after he had
turned to reënter his door:
“There is one thing--one--I cannot refrain from saying it. I am not
one of those that have the least anxiety about the triumph of the
principles I have stood for.
“I have seen fools resist Providence before, and I have seen their
destruction, as will come upon these again--utter destruction and
contempt. That we shall prevail is as sure as that God reigns.”
The ratification of the Eighteenth and Nineteenth amendments, the
Suffrage and Prohibition measures, and the Federal Child Labor Law,
important measures long pending, were enacted in this administration.
He died on February 3, 1924, and his tomb in the crypt of the great
cathedral at St. Albans draws daily pilgrims.
CHAPTER XVII
THE ADMINISTRATION OF WARREN G. HARDING
_March 4, 1921, to August 2, 1923_
Inauguration Day dawned clear and bright for Warren G. Harding,
twenty-ninth President. His installation into office was marked by its
simplicity.
The Hardings went direct to the Willard Hotel upon their arrival
in Washington. On the morning of March 4th, President-elect and
Mrs. Harding, Vice President-elect and Mrs. Coolidge, and George
B. Christian, Jr., with former Speaker Cannon, went to the White
House. As the hour of the inaugural ceremonies drew near, President
Wilson appeared leaning on the arm of Mr. Harding and took his seat
in the machine that was to take him to the Capitol. Mrs. Wilson was
accompanied by Dr. Grayson. She and Mrs. Harding rode together in a car
following that of their husbands. Four troops of the Third Cavalry had
been assigned to the duty as escort.
This inauguration was not in any respect like previous celebrations;
not a strain of music was heard until the party had passed the Peace
Monument. There the Harding and Coolidge Band of Washington was
playing. The only other music was by the Marine Band on the plaza in
front of the reviewing stand. President Wilson spent a few minutes
signing belated bills and then decided to take his departure, as he
was taxing his strength. He was assisted to his machine, and with Mrs.
Wilson, Admiral Grayson, and Mr. Tumulty, he left the scene of so much
of his activity to receive a great ovation later at his own home.
In the Senate Chamber, Vice President Marshall inducted Governor
Coolidge into office. Miss Alice Robertson attracted much attention
as the second woman to be elected to Congress. She was from Oklahoma,
and succeeded Miss Rankin as the one woman legislator. The ceremony on
the East Portico deviated but little from those of former occasions.
Amplifiers were used for the first time to enable the people to hear
the address. The oath was administered by Chief Justice White on a
Bible of historic interest. It was the one used by George Washington in
1789. It had been borrowed from the Masonic Lodge for the purpose then,
and was loaned by the same Lodge for Mr. Harding’s use.
After the address, the new President went back to the Senate chamber,
made a brief speech to his former colleagues, and then presented the
names of his Cabinet. They were at once confirmed. All precedents were
eclipsed in the celerity with which government control was transferred
from the Democrats to the Republicans and in the speed with which the
new régime was organized and ready for functioning. The new Cabinet
consisted of Charles E. Hughes, Secretary of State; John W. Weeks,
Secretary of War; Harry M. Daugherty, Attorney General; Will H. Hays,
Postmaster General; Edwin Denby, Secretary of the Navy; Albert B.
Fall, Secretary of the Interior; Henry Cantwell Wallace, Secretary of
Agriculture; Herbert Clark Hoover, Secretary of Commerce, and James J.
Davis, Secretary of Labour.
President and Mrs. Harding enjoyed a family luncheon party on their
arrival at the White House.
The absence of the usual parade and the review was a real
disappointment to the crowds along the way.
When Mr. Harding had been approached by the Inaugural Committee on
plans for the biggest celebration ever known and the most brilliant
ball of history, he was at first inclined to approve, but pressure
was brought upon him and he vetoed the entire plan, asking that the
celebrations be made just as simple as consistent with the dignity of
the position. Confronted with this ultimatum, decorations and seat
building stopped, and those not interested in the Charity Ball of the
evening promenaded the brilliantly lighted Avenue.
The first official act of the new President was to order the gates
opened and the public admitted to the grounds which had been closed so
long. This was done upon his return from the Capitol. The Wilson sheep
had been sent back to their home at Bel Air, and dogs were installed,
Laddie Boy winning popularity for himself from the time he appeared.
Mrs. Harding set to work at once to banish the gloom and silence of the
large rooms. She filled every possible nook with flowers and threw wide
the doors to invite the public again to see the interior of the mansion.
From the home on Wyoming Avenue, occupied while Mr. Harding was in the
Senate, came all of the household goods, and soon the bareness and
cheerlessness that followed upon the exodus of the Wilsons with all of
their lovely foreign gifts disappeared. Mrs. Harding was a housekeeper
of the most efficient type, and with her husband resumed the custom of
holding daily receptions. She kept Miss Harlan as her secretary and was
unusually approachable. She had bulbs planted all over the lawns where
the Wilson sheep had roamed. She sent away to a factory for bird houses
for the trees.
The advent of a new Mistress of the White House is always the signal
for the limelight to be turned upon her by the world at large. No
detail of her life, family history, characteristics, accomplishments,
limitations, or appearance is overlooked, and trying beyond description
is the ordeal of the first few weeks of every woman who finds herself
elevated to this position.
The price of residence in the White House is the loss of personal
liberty and of freedom of speech and action. For every waking minute
of the twenty-four hours, the man and the woman who accept this high
honour must ever keep before them the rules, restrictions, and customs
which tradition has fastened upon the place. To independent folk, much
of this is exceedingly irksome.
Mrs. Harding, close to her husband in age, for thirty years his
companion, co-worker, partner, sweetheart, wife, and adviser, the one
person who believed in him more completely than any other human being,
and who inspired him to real achievement, was as distinct among women
as her husband was among men.
As in the case of her husband, all the events of her life contributed
to equipping her for the discharge of her White House obligations, and
not even her most bitter critic will deny that she established a régime
that will go down in history as a tribute to her as a citizen and as a
charming, gracious hostess.
Mrs. Harding, born Florence Kling, the daughter of Amos and Louisa
Bouton Kling, disappointed her wealthy father immeasurably by being
born a girl. He bitterly resented that fact. Her mother’s health became
so fragile during her little-girlhood that she and her father came
to depend upon each other for outdoor companionship which the mother
could not share. Being obsessed with disgust over the ignorance of
the majority of women in business matters brought to his attention
daily in his banking affairs, Mr. Kling decided to take a hand in his
daughter’s education and add another study to a programme already
filled with the useful and ornamental branches usually planned to fit
out a girl. Among these was a study of music that was encouraged and
developed to an almost professional degree, and the five hours of
daily piano practice carried in its wake much besides the ability to
interpret the old masters.
Banker Kling approved of all this and more, so he took his lively
little daughter in hand and trained her as he would have trained a
first son, in all the details of business and banking. Florence Kling
was an apt pupil, and soon she was as familiar with her father’s
routine and detail of work as he was. Naturally, the comradeship and
understanding between them became very close.
All the joys and sports of her day, the frolics, parties, and good
times belonging to girlhood, were also open to this girl, who had a
knack of making and keeping her friends. Early in young-ladyhood she
became the wife of Mr. De Wolff and the mother of a son. The marriage
was not happy, and in the course of time a divorce terminated it. Both
Mr. De Wolff and their son died.
As a child, this girl learned to ride horseback, becoming an expert
horsewoman, being able to handle any horse she chose to ride. This
accomplishment played a prominent part in her friendship with Editor
Harding. Gossip declared that they met at a dance and that the mutual
interest there created was speedily fanned into love. An ardent
courtship followed, much of which was spent by the two riding horseback
through the country lanes.
Mr. Kling viewed this budding romance with stern disfavour, for he had
little use for the newspaper profession. As the affair progressed,
his opposition increased, and he took a high hand in forbidding the
marriage. Equally high-spirited, his daughter refused to give up her
fiancé just because he was struggling with a one-horse newspaper. She
chose her lover in preference to her father, and for seven years Mr.
Kling refused to speak to either of them. Later, however, he came to
admire his son-in-law and to admit that his daughter’s husband was all
that he could desire. Because of the bitter feeling in her family, the
young couple were married in the house which Mr. Harding bought and
which they occupied as their home during all of their years of life in
Marion, and in which the front-porch campaign for the Presidency was
conducted.
From the beginning, their domestic life was ideal, that of comrades
sharing every problem. In the privacy of their home circle, they were
“the Duchess” and “Sonny,” and sometimes these nicknames slipped out
more readily than the Florence and Warren. He was always deferential
and solicitous to a degree that was a point of pleased observation to
the throngs that met them. Mrs. Harding was a notable example of the
modern woman whose pride in her husband personally as well as in his
career was the outstanding motive of her own life and activities. Apart
they were never content.
“I have no ambition for myself. I am content to trail along with Warren
Harding. He has the warmest sympathy of any man I know,” she once said,
adding, “Even the newsboys were crazy about him, just as crazy as his
dogs were.”
In the strenuous pre-election days, Mrs. Harding’s faith in the
successful outcome never faltered. She earned her place at his side,
for she worked tirelessly night and day in all kinds of weather with
all of the energy and more of the astuteness and patience than the
average male campaigner. She made countless addresses, wrote reams of
campaign literature, and organized numerous clubs of women voters.
Furthermore, she kept a check upon every move, and her advice on
political matters was the wonder of the old-timers in political wisdom.
With it all, she kept out of the fierce limelight.
She stands out among our Presidents’ wives because she was the first
woman voter and politician to come to the White House. A trained
business woman, possessed of a keen analytical mind, with a gift of
executive ability beyond the average, she was also a charming, tactful,
gracious hostess. She knew every detail of her housekeeping, and at
the White House as well as in her own home, she saw to it that money’s
worth was being obtained for money spent.
For thirty years, this woman had studied the political life of her
country as well as that of foreign nations. She knew her city, her
county, her state, and her country. Great national issues were as
familiar to her as to her husband, and the big questions of the day
slipped into her conversation as readily as the polite small talk.
Frank almost to abruptness, she looked a visitor squarely in the eye
and gave him a man’s handshake along with a greeting that matched her
friendly smile.
Both President and Mrs. Harding enjoyed their stay in the White
House, and they were frank enough to admit it. She loved the historic
associations of the mansion and said the thrill of showing people
through it and pointing out its treasures never palled upon her.
True to her husband’s policy of economy, she declined to have any of
the available money spent upon refurnishing the place to please her
taste, as is the privilege of each new First Lady. Downstairs, she
revelled in the daily arrival of the flowers, and every nook, corner,
vase, or basket that was available had its use in brightening and
enhancing the beauty of the main floor.
Scarcely a day passed but that both the Executive and his wife received
a number of delegations, as well as hundreds of individuals. Neither
of them took any of the applause and attention to themselves. Both
insisted that it was but the homage due the highest office, regardless
of the man and woman filling it for the time. Both made their endless
stream of callers realize that they were human ordinary folk, genuinely
glad to see the American people who came to see the head of the nation
and admire the home which the nation had provided for him to use.
During his first year, President Harding gave orders to permit as many
people as possible in the daily line to be received by him. Some days
there were fully three thousand to file by and shake hands, and rarely
less than four or five hundred. Some of his associates urged him to
discontinue this custom or make it weekly, thinking it too much of a
strain.
“Not on your life,” he answered, when the idea was broached to him;
“the only big bright spot of my day is seeing those admiring and kindly
faces. I love to meet them. They have nothing to ask. They are typical
Americans, and it is merely their way of showing reverence for their
President. Besides, it is a treat to meet someone at the White House
who is not seeking executive favour.”
He often expressed the view that he belonged to the people and it was
his duty to grant every wish in reason.
His wife shared his views in this respect, as in most others, and their
social régime was planned to give the greatest pleasure and include
at the big official functions as many people as the size of the house
would safely admit.
Their first New Year’s reception was notable in that for the first time
in many years a President’s wife went through the hand-shaking ordeal.
Six thousand, five hundred and seventy-six people went through that
line in five hours, and to each one the President and his wife gave a
cordial greeting and a hearty hand-shake. True, Mrs. Harding’s right
hand became so swollen that she had to use her left, and when the hour
for the end of the reception came and people were still passing at the
rate of about thirty to the minute, with a long shivering line outside,
the President decided that every last person should be admitted, and
for another hour these two kept up the pace without flagging. Mrs.
Harding’s gloves became so discoloured that she changed several times
in brief lulls. After that, she quickly developed a little efficient
swing that made her right arm and shoulder stand the strain of the
daily receptions as well as did her husband’s golf-trained muscles. The
ability to perform the prodigious hand-shaking was due to her years of
piano practice and the strength of wrists that horsemanship gave.
President and Mrs. Harding endeared themselves to the disabled
soldiers, for neither of them ever wearied doing things for them, and
none who witnessed the reception which they gave to the wounded men of
the Great War will ever wonder why these boys were so devoted to them
and mourned their passing so deeply.
They were idolized by the children, and with good reason. At Easter,
Mrs. Harding reopened the grounds for the annual egg rolling that had
been so long abandoned, and then she and the President called Laddie
Boy and walked about, mingling with the youngsters, giving and getting
a full measure of fun out of the day. Her love for children was very
deep.
Upon another occasion, when five hundred school children gathered at
the Lincoln Memorial to sing and leave flowers as their part of the
Dedication services, a heavy storm prevented the arrival of speakers,
and the children marched over to the White House to sing for the
President. Mrs. Harding saw them and gave orders that they all be
brought in, dripping and soaked as they were. After they had finished
their songs and been thanked as a group, Mrs. Harding greeted each of
them most warmly, and as they passed her they put their flowers at
her feet. By the time the last wet little one had gone, she was waist
deep in a bank of dripping flowers, and drenched to the skin. Her only
comment in reply to the remarks about her lovely dress was terse:
“What’s a gown amount to compared to a child’s disappointment?”
This is the reason why the soldiers and the children, as well as the
general public, prayed for her recovery--some kneeling on the White
House steps--and kept a steady stream of inquiry and flowers pouring
into the mansion during her critical illness of September, 1922. In the
acute stages, her husband kept vigil in a chair outside her door when
the physicians would not allow him to remain longer at her bedside.
To all letters of sympathy and inquiry about her condition, President
Harding placed his signature upon the replies, and there were bushels
upon bushels of them.
The first group of any size received by Mrs. Harding after her six
months of illness and sickroom seclusion was that of about thirty women
writers of the Capital City, most of whom represented large papers
and magazines, while the rest were well-known free-lance writers.
Next to the pleasure of again seeing Mrs. Harding, for whom each one
had a feeling of warm friendship, all appreciated the little personal
touch of being received in her own sitting room, the large oval
apartment above the Blue Room--the room that was replete with historic
associations of the first levees in the mansion under Mrs. John Adams,
and that later was made the coziest spot in the building by Mrs.
Fillmore and her library. Great, comfortable, chintz-covered chairs,
davenports, mahogany bookcases, shaded lamps, and a fire crackling
cheerily in the fireplace above which hung Laszlo’s sketch of Mrs.
Harding herself, all made the place most homelike and attractive. This
atmosphere was emphasized by the winter sunshine streaming through
the three south windows that look toward the Washington Monument,
the Lincoln Memorial, and the lovely Potomac. Major Baldinger and
Lieutenant Taylor, both of whom she proudly introduced as “two of my
boys from the Marion _Star_,” were there as military and naval aides.
Frail, dainty, and courageous, the White House mistress had come back
from the Valley of the Shadow, and while now and then she had to think
for a word, she was just as merry and full of energy as when she had
last talked over the events of her first year in the White House. She
told of her desperate struggle against death, solemnly stating that it
was only the prayers of the people that had saved her life.
Mrs. Harding also spoke of the pleasure it had been to have her husband
with her, and to a special friend she remarked:
“In one way this illness has been a blessing. We have had more time
with each other than at any period since the beginning of the campaign.
Before I had to go to bed there was not a minute of the day that either
of us was free. There was never a meal when we were alone. I can tell
you it was a treat to be able to take advantage of my condition and sit
upstairs here in the evening and talk to my husband.”
Though a good mixer like her husband, whose friends were her friends,
Mrs. Harding was not much of a “joiner.” She was a member of the
Daughters of the American Revolution, by her descent from Captain
Edmund Richards, of Connecticut; but had been identified with that
organization for many years in Ohio and became honorary member of the
Mary Washington Chapter of the District of Columbia. Wives of the
Presidents are so hedged about with restrictions that they make as few
new moves as necessary to avoid the criticism that is always ready to
descend upon them.
Mrs. Harding once remarked that she had joined every Animal Rescue
League in the land, for that seemed a perfectly safe thing to join. At
the time of Mr. Harding’s election, she became an active member of the
League of American Pen Women, holding that membership until her death.
When President Harding set out for Alaska, it was to realize a dream
he had nurtured from the time he came to the Presidency. Yet there are
many who believe that he had a premonition that he would not survive
the trip, for he set his house in order, made his will, rearranged his
investments, sold certain properties, and left his personal affairs
in ship-shape condition. The trip, though interesting and enjoyable,
proved a severe strain, although his sixty speeches in thirty-nine
days was not an unusual number for Presidents on such long journeys
across the continent. But his vitality had been weakened by a sick
spell in the early summer. The deaths of the three men, all friends
of his and members of his party, whose car plunged over the cliff in
Colorado depressed him greatly. Mrs. Harding’s threatened collapse in
Alaska, and the accident to the boat that brought them back to Seattle,
all added to the weariness. At San Francisco, almost at once came his
severe illness, and when the nation watched with anxiety the sickroom
bulletins, the relief at the news of his improvement and the assurance
of recovery was heartfelt.
No one believed that death was near, certainly not Mrs. Harding or
the physicians. Always devoted, she sat at his bedside, happy that
he was interested in being entertained. She was reading Sam Blythe’s
summary of him and his administration, “A Calm Review of a Calm Man.”
Apparently comfortable and free from pain, and enjoying the sound of
her loved voice, appreciating, no one knows how deeply, the words of
commendation of his efforts from a writer of authority, he murmured
when she hesitated:
“That’s good; go on, read some more.” As she picked up the magazine
again, he threw up his hand, perhaps to ward off the swift blow of the
Grim Reaper he felt coming, and, with a sigh, he was gone--the valiant
spirit had flown--the splendid, vigorous body lay limp--but an empty
shell.
While Mrs. Harding rushed for help, she knew all too well that it was
too late--her husband was dead.
A shocked and grief-stricken group of relatives, Cabinet members,
officials, and friends quickly assembled and were rallied to the
necessities of the hour by the heart-broken wife, who had never failed
Warren Harding in life and would not let herself fail him in death.
Upheld by the marvellous will power that had characterized her life,
though prostrated by her sorrow, she reassured her pitying friends: “I
will not fail--I will not break down.” No one can imagine how she went
through the formalities and services in the hotel, calm and controlled;
how she endured the long, weary, sorrowful journey to Washington
in the car beside the bier of her husband, the return to the White
House--there to stand by the casket in the East Room and then calmly
and quietly to go through the solemn scenes at the Capitol, with the
oversight in the evening that compelled her to ask the hospitality of
a friend’s car to take her to the train--the journey to Marion, the
scene of her childhood, her romance, her happy wifehood, business life,
political triumphs, past the little home where she had been married,
to the home of her aged father-in-law. Then she greeted the officials
who had journeyed many hours and miles to pay final honours to Marion’s
great man, and, still controlled and composed, she participated in the
last rites that returned her husband to the dust whence he came.
Even greater courage was required to turn her face to Washington, once
more to endure the fatigue of another journey, and to remove their
belongings from the White House and make room for their successors.
After ten days of heartbreaking residence in the great mansion, where
she lived alone, she slipped out of the city in a dismal downpour at
dusk with the saddest part of life yet before her. In all this time,
never once did she utter a plea for herself. With super-courage she
filled her rôle as she felt her husband would expect her to fill it.
But the effort was too great.
Mrs. Harding lived but a year and a half after her husband’s death. She
died November 21, 1924.
* * * * *
Warren Gamaliel Harding was born on a farm just outside the little
town of Blooming Grove, Morrow County, Ohio, on November 2, 1865. He
was the first child of eight, born to a country doctor, George Tryon
Harding, and Phœbe Dickerson Harding. To his parents he was, of course,
a prodigy; and his mother, deeply religious, supplied his middle name,
Gamaliel--which in Hebrew means “God is a reward”--from the Bible, and
in her heart settled upon his future in the ministry, in the Baptist
faith.
Typically and wholly Colonial, the ancestors of President Harding were
Puritans and Pilgrims who came to wrest freedom and livelihood from an
unbroken wilderness and played their part through the generations as
pioneers, soldiers, and patriots. Dr. George T. Harding, his father,
was a Civil War Veteran.
Warren G. Harding’s boyhood was spent upon a forest-bordered farm,
and, like most country boys, his time was filled with a routine of
work and chores that never failed and seldom varied. He chopped down
trees, split rails and firewood, dug post holes, built fences, planted
and hoed corn and other crops, and tended stock and painted barns
and farmhouses. One season, it is said, he left a crimson trail all
through Morrow County in the barns he tinted a vermilion hue. This
barn painting was done with extra zeal, as the money was to take him
to college. In the strenuous days of his farming, chores, and general
utility work, in the school of poverty that has turned out so many of
our great men, who in such environment learned the industry and the
mastery of detail along with the dignity of labour, that made them
grasp opportunity with both hands and braced feet, Warren G. Harding
laid the foundation for all later successes.
A little knowledge of the printer’s trade, learned during his college
career as editor of the college paper, fired the boy with a desire for
more, and soon he handled odd jobs at the town printing office, later
becoming a practical pressman and a “make-up” man.
Seventeen found him the dignified teacher of the district school and an
energetic member of the town band.
[Illustration: _Photo. of Mrs. Harding (upper right corner) by
Clinedinst Studio, Washington, D. C._
THE BODY OF WARREN G. HARDING
Lying in State in the East Room of The White House]
In 1884, his father, Dr. Harding, pulled up stakes and moved his family
and chattels into the little town of Marion, the county seat of the
adjoining county, then of about four thousand population. But the
eldest son did not join the family for several months. When he came,
at the age of nineteen, barefoot and astride an old white mule, his
advent into the city that he was destined to put upon the map in later
years furnished the material for one of the stories he enjoyed telling
upon himself.
“My father moved to Marion, from a farm near Caledonia, the winter
before I came,” he used to relate.
“When he moved to Marion, he left behind a mule, because the mule was
so well known in the vicinity that it could not be sold at a profit and
so valuable that he could not afford to sacrifice it.
“I started out early one afternoon; but this mule had only one gait.
You couldn’t put him in second or third, and couldn’t step on the gas
or anything. The shades were falling fast as I reached Roberts’ Mill,
four miles out of Marion. The situation was looking dark to me, and I
stopped to ask an old fellow smoking a pipe how far it was to Marion.
Without cracking a smile, he replied, ‘Well, if you are going to ride
that mule, it is a further distance than you’ll ever get.’”
But notwithstanding the slow pace of his temperamental mule, he arrived
in Marion and set about finding a job. The study of law attracted
him for a time, with insurance on the side. He frequently insisted
that the first real money he ever earned was when he secured the fire
insurance on the Hotel Marion from Amos Kling, who later became his
father-in-law. In this transaction, his commission was $150, and his
first purchase was a “slip horn,” and then he joined the Marion Silver
Cornet Band. This horn is still a treasured possession in the family.
The proudest memory of his life, Mr. Harding once admitted, was when
he became the leader of that band. One of the great events of those
days was the band contest at Findlay, Ohio, to which competitors came
from great distances. Upon the occasion that the Marion Band was to
compete, its enthusiastic young leader had managed by dint of great
strain upon his resources to procure brand-new uniforms, so that his
musical flock would make a fine appearance. He was banking on winning
prize money for reimbursement. The rival bands all got ahead of the
Marion contingent in getting before the judges, and their efforts were
so well appreciated by their followings that the Marion bandsmen lost
heart and quietly departed, not wanting to suffer the mortification
of public defeat. Finally, when their turn came, only the leader, who
blew an alto horn, the bass drummer, and the clarinet player were
left to perform. But they did their best with their depleted ability,
and their delight and surprise may be imagined when the judges called
Harding forward and announced that he had won a prize of $200. This
was more than enough to pay for the new uniforms, and no prouder group
participated in the review of winners than that little trio.
Neither selling insurance nor the intricacies of law held the appeal of
journalism, and young Harding decided to follow the press, securing a
job on the _Mirror_, a Democratic paper. Being an ardent Republican and
already a firm party man, he fell out with his employer over the stand
the editor took in the James G. Blaine campaign for the Presidency.
Being a Blaine supporter, the young man found himself without a job.
Just about this time, the run-down little sheet, the Marion _Star_,
was scheduled to be sold by the sheriff. Dr. Harding bought it in at
a bargain and turned it over to his boy, because of his faith in him
and because he wanted to help him get a start in the line of work he
seemed most anxious to follow. From the moment he took possession of
the paper that owned only two hundred pounds of type, he put into it
hard work, faith, and enthusiasm. Often he could not pay his helpers
in the early days, and sometimes when he did pay them off on Saturday
night he would have to borrow back a little to tide himself over the
opening of the week. Sometimes he had to coax advances on bills from
his advertisers to keep going. He filled every position, from printer’s
devil to managing editor, but he was never known to lose his pleasure
in being just one of the boys. Later, when the paper began to succeed
financially, he saw to it that his employees got more pay, and still
later he formed a stock company in which they all held shares.
His paper never had a strike; a strike was never even threatened.
No more illuminating view of his character was ever shown than is
contained in a tribute he wrote to his dog long before any high honours
came to him. The obituary published in the Marion _Star_ about twenty
years before he came to the Presidency is worthy of attention. It reads:
“Jumbo, the _Star_ office dog, died Sunday, not from old age, but from
somebody’s cruel poisoning or from extreme heat.
“Jumbo was probably known to more people in Marion than any dog in the
city. He had been making acquaintances at the _Star_ office for eight
years. He had romped with hundreds of newsboys and found canine joy in
their familiar greetings.
“Yet there was a serious side to this playful good-natured dog. He had
a watchful eye for the suspicious-looking, and would guard a trust
with a faithfulness that men might well imitate.
“He was overzealous, perhaps, in exercising the responsibility he felt
in keeping watch at the home which sheltered him, but he never harmed
anyone without cause. He was only a dumb brute, but had proved his
intelligence, made himself understood with his great tender eyes, and
possessed a rare combination of dignity and docility.
“The _Star_ workers, from pressroom to business office, felt Jumbo to
be part of the force, and it would be false to the feelings of all to
allow his passing without notice and tribute.
“Dear Old Jumbo, your eight years of devotion and faithfulness
have emphasized the realization that a good dog’s life is all too
short--and you were a good dog! You taught us anew how a fine, noble
dog like you can win his way to human hearts and grow attachments most
painful to have severed.”
One romance, and only one, entered into the life of editor Harding, and
his ardent courtship of Amos Kling’s cherished daughter brought down
upon his head the enmity of her father. In 1891, when Mr. Harding was
twenty-five, despite all opposition, they were married in the little
house that they called home during their lives in Marion. His wife’s
influence was the greatest factor in all of his achievements. Her
contribution to his paper was of the greatest value.
Soon after their marriage, Mr. Harding became ill and the circulation
manager quit. Mrs. Harding had always contended that this end of the
business was not properly productive. There was no delivery. Papers
were sold over the counter in the business office. So in this crisis
she decided to take a hand in matters for a few days to help out. She
gathered some boys for carriers, installed a carrier system, started
them out, and made them collect regularly. The people who did not
pay for their papers received no further service until they did pay.
Later, she organized the carriers into a newsboys’ club, got them a
meeting place, and helped them in every possible way, even now and then
administering a much-needed spanking, a scrubbing, or a patch, in the
interest of their moral and physical welfare. She went to the job for
a few days, but stayed fourteen years and saw her plans develop the
circulation into profitable returns and many of the little carriers
into splendid men.
One of these, a little red-headed youngster, claimed the particular
interest of the editor and his wife, and when Mr. Harding went to
Columbus to the state Senate they took him along, and soon he was
serving as a page and receiving five dollars a day during the session.
His father was dead, and his mother earning her own way. He sent her
his wages, and she saved them for him, and later on, when he was a
little older, she sent him to Staunton Military Academy because of his
bent for military life. This red-headed carrier boy is Major Baldinger
of the Air Service, who has had a wide experience of service and won
distinction, and when President Harding came to the White House it
happened that Major Baldinger was assigned there as military aide. He
accompanied the President and his wife upon their journeys and was
assigned to attend Mrs. Harding on her sad journeys to Marion; and
after she no longer needed him, he again took up his duties at the
White House.
As soon as the Marion _Star_ got upon its financial feet, politics
claimed its editor, and his steady rise in the political arena was but
natural to a man of his prominence in his community. His profession as
a writer, editor, printer, and business man identified with many of
the projects that were developing in his state, all brought him into a
continually widening circle of community and public interests. Always
an active Republican, his service in the state Senate, to which he was
elected in 1899 and reëlected in 1901, served to make him stand out as
a coming man. His first political speech brought forth the prediction
that he would some day be President, and political favour began to
stalk his steps.
He was elected Lieutenant Governor of Ohio in 1904, with Governor Myron
T. Herrick, but was defeated in his race for the Governorship by Judson
Harmon in 1910.
Mr. Harding took all of his public duties seriously and never ceased
his efforts to cope with all situations. He travelled extensively,
going three times abroad, visiting most of the European countries,
not wholly for the sake of the pleasure, but to study for himself the
systems of government, of employment, of wages. After his election to
the United States Senate, when he defeated Foraker, and before taking
his seat, he visited the Hawaiian Islands to get first-hand knowledge
of the production and distribution of sugar.
In the course of his public life, he spoke in almost every state in the
Union and to groups representing practically every industry.
Always pleasing and forceful as a speaker, his appearance added
materially to his popularity upon the rostrum. A deep carrying voice,
impressive manner, and the knack of winning his hearers brought him
always an appreciative audience.
His presentation of William Howard Taft’s name for renomination at
the Chicago Convention of 1912, the most tumultuous convention in
the annals of Republican history, his chairmanship of the Republican
National Convention four years later, his notable speech, and his poise
and parliamentary skill in presiding over that body are all matters of
political history.
His campaign as presidential nominee of his party, and his election to
the Presidency on his fifty-fifth birthday with a plurality of seven
millions, were the expression of the confidence of the American people.
It was just about dinner time on election day that a delegation called
at the Marion home to see Senator Harding. This proved to be a group
of employees of the Marion _Star_ who called to show their pride and
satisfaction in him by presenting him with a printer’s gold make-up
rule. He went out on the front porch to thank them and was choked with
the emotion the gift aroused. When he got his voice in order, he said:
“I don’t know of any call that has aroused my emotions more than this
has. I have worked with you and I have tried to be honest with you,
and God knows, if I am called to responsibility, I am going to be
honest with everybody in the world. I don’t know if I can meet these
responsibilities fully, but I know I can meet them with the same
honesty that I have treated you.
“I am just a plain ordinary fellow, but I can be on the square, and
that’s all there is to it.”
He had the distinction of being the first Senator elected to the
Presidency while serving in that office and also the first active
newspaper man to wear the presidential toga.
The outstanding feature of President Harding’s administration was the
Conference on Limitation of Armaments which met on November 12, 1921.
To it the President invited Great Britain, France, Italy, Holland,
Belgium, Portugal, Japan, and China to send delegates. Secretary
of State Hughes presided. Those who attended were Prince Tokugawa,
Ambassador Jusserand, Albert Sarrault, M. Viviani, Premier Briand,
Senators G. Pearce Underwood, Elihu Root, Lodge, and Schanzer, Lord
Balfour, Ambassador Geddes, Sir Robert Borden, Sir John Salmond, and
Srinivasa Castri.
The voice of American womanhood was heard when the President appointed
four well-known women as members of America’s advisory council. These
women represented ably the various schools of feminine thought of our
land. They were Mrs. Thomas G. Winter, of Minneapolis, President of
the General Federation of Women’s Clubs; Mrs. Charles Sumner Bird, of
Boston, leader of the National League of Women Voters of Massachusetts;
Mrs. Kathrine Phillips Edson, of Los Angeles, author of many welfare
projects for women, and an active suffragist; and Mrs. Eleanor Franklin
Egan, well-known writer and authority on the Far East.
The presence of the women added to the importance of the social
functions arranged; not since the war had the city been as festive and
the entertaining as general as during the session of the Conference.
Those close to President Harding, who knew how staunchly he believed
in the men he picked for positions of honour and trust, believed
his illness greatly aggravated by the disclosures of the Senate
investigation of the oil scandal, which had already brought dishonour
to one of his Cabinet and was threatening to involve others in high
places.
CHAPTER XVIII
FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF CALVIN COOLIDGE
_August 3, 1923, to March 4, 1925_
The death of President Harding in San Francisco, coming so swiftly and
unexpectedly on the evening of August 2, 1923, at 7:30, stunned all of
his immediate party, none more so than his friend and secretary George
Christian, who immediately flashed the news of the national calamity
to Vice President Coolidge, vacationing in a little Vermont house, the
home of his father, John C. Coolidge.
Just at midnight a messenger arrived and roused the elder Coolidge, and
to this gray-haired father was given the duty of awakening his son to
apprize him of the fact that fate had ordained him to assume the reins
of government just fallen from the lifeless hands of his friend and
chief.
By the time Vice President and Mrs. Coolidge had dressed and gotten
downstairs, the newspaper men were arriving, and, shortly after,
Mr. Coolidge’s secretary came. Within an hour, a telephone had been
installed, the house adjoining secured for use, connection with
the White House established to get the exact phraseology of the
presidential oath of office, and a message of condolence sent to Mrs.
Harding.
At 2:47 A. M., August 3d, the simplest inaugural in American history
was enacted. In the dim lamplight, with scarce half a dozen witnesses,
Calvin Coolidge was sworn in as President by his father, a notary
public, taking the oath on the old, well-worn family Bible.
History was in the making by the minute in the eventful twenty-four
hours that spanned August 2d and 3d. Without an instant’s warning the
life record of Warren Harding had been marked “Finis,” and Calvin
Coolidge, tossing hay and farming until bedtime in a smock made twenty
years before by his grandmother, had scarce gotten well into his first
sleep before he was summoned to pick up the mantle of his chief, step
from a salary of twelve thousand to one of seventy-five thousand, move
at once from a tiny lamplit farmhouse into the Executive Mansion, and
from the paths of peace and serenity into a seething maelstrom of
duties, to be buffeted between the rocks of the political torrent and
the shoals of social quicksands.
The movements of President Coolidge in taking up his new prodigious
burden were characteristic of the typical New England gentleman.
Without haste and without displaying in the least degree the intense
emotion that must have been surging through him, he made his brief
inaugural address to be sent broadcast to a sorrowing, anxious nation:
“Reports have reached me, which I fear are correct, that President
Harding is gone. The world has lost a good man. I mourn his loss. He
was my chief and my friend.
“It will be my purpose to carry out the policies which he had begun,
for the service of the American people and for the meeting of their
responsibilities wherever they may arise.
“For this purpose I shall seek the coöperation of all those who have
been associated with the President during his term of office.
“Those who have given their efforts to assist him, I wish to remain in
office that they may assist me.
“I have faith that God will direct the destinies of our nation.”
In the early morning, an automobile rushed him and the new First Lady
to Rutland, Vt., where they started their journey to Washington.
Calvin Coolidge, thirtieth President of the United States, born on
Independence Day, 1872, on a farm near Plymouth, Vt., a sparsely
settled mountain village twelve miles from a railroad, less than a
month after his fifty-first birthday was filling the office of Chief
Magistrate.
Upon reaching Washington, the President turned to the tasks already
piling up, giving first thought to the funeral arrangements and honours
for President Harding, and to the comfort and aid he might render to
the bereft widow. The message from the new President and his wife,
impressing upon her their desire that she should not tax herself with
haste in leaving the White House, “It is yours as long as it is ours,”
must have sent a warm glow of comfort to Mrs. Harding in her sorrowful
vigil.
Four or five days after Mrs. Harding had left the mansion to visit with
friends before starting for Marion with her belongings, President and
Mrs. Coolidge took possession. Then President Coolidge’s great task
began in earnest to jog itself down into the regular routine. His days
were so strenuous that he was early forced to see the necessity of
regular amusement and exercise. His relaxations, though encompassed
with every possible facility, were just as modest and simple as in
Northampton. They consisted chiefly of an early morning walk. When his
fondness for that was discovered, several prominent officials also
decided such exercise was good for them, and a small walking club came
into existence, which bid fair to take the place of the tennis and
golf Cabinets of past administrations. In this way, he freshened up
for breakfast and the day. An afternoon horseback ride offered the
freshening process for dinner. This sport, too, became quite popular
after the President decided to make use of The General--the horse that
Mr. Harding had used occasionally. Week-end trips on the presidential
yacht _Mayflower_ were frequently taken. Between these oases of rest,
the government machine ground on its heavy treadmill.
President Coolidge made no snap decisions. He was the best-equipped
man who ever stepped into the position, for he had not only taken his
vice presidential duties seriously and informed himself extensively on
matters pertaining to the Senate, but he had had the unusual advantage
of attending the Cabinet meetings during President Harding’s régime.
While still at Marion, Senator Harding asked Governor Coolidge, as
Vice President, to sit with the Cabinet. They discussed this signal
departure from all precedent and agreed upon it. In referring to it,
President Harding said:
“The sort of government I have in mind ought to take advantage of the
capacity and experience of a man like Governor Coolidge, by bringing
him into the councils. It would be a fine thing and I don’t see why
it has not been done before. Governor Coolidge is an eminent American
and has had experience as an executive and should be helpful. I
think the Vice President can be the most effective agency in keeping
the executive offices in touch with the legislative branch of the
government.”
A study of the men who have been called to the Presidency makes
President Coolidge stand out from them all. For he is a new kind of
public man. He is called “Silent Cal,” the inscrutable; he is an
unguessable quantity, the shrewdest politician the White House has
ever known, though on the surface he lacks all set and prescribed
qualities of the successful man of politics.
He is spare in figure, auburn-haired, gray-eyed with rather thin lips
and nose, in vigorous health and possessed of a dignity and reserve
that have already become a national tradition.
He is a typical New Englander all of whose physical features proclaim
his Pilgrim ancestry. The climate and conditions under which the early
settlers of his section of the country and their descendants have
battled to wrest from the rocky soil of coast line and mountain valleys
the means of a livelihood, have moulded physiques and mentalities to
meet force with wit and batter down obstacles with the power of brain
as much as by brawn.
He is the son of the late John C. Coolidge and Victoria J. Moor
Coolidge, one of the descendants of John and Mary Coolidge, early
Pilgrims that settled in Watertown, Mass., about 1630. His ancestry
runs through a long line of farmers of Massachusetts until his
great-great-grandfather moved into Vermont, and he and his descendants
tilled the soil, raised stock, tapped the trees for maple sugar, and
were known and respected as substantial citizens of their community.
His mother died when he was but thirteen, and before he reached manhood
his only sister passed away; these bereavements evidently drew father
and son closer together.
In college--he attended Amherst--he was not a brilliant student, and
the course was half over before his mates were really acquainted with
him.
An analysis of all of the jumble and hodge-podge of tales that pour
forth to fasten upon any man who rises to high places in his case leave
beneath the froth an interesting picture that offers worth-while
reading for the American boy of to-day. It paints for us a shy country
lad of extreme slenderness with a mop of reddish hair and a heavier
crop of awkwardness emphasized by unusual reticence and shyness.
Considered “countrified,” he kept out of the way of the sophisticated
city freshman, being embarrassed to a painful degree if he did happen
to draw attention. But all the while that he battled within himself,
the impressions gathered daily; his reserve created the habit of clear
sharp thinking that found expression in a paucity of words, direct,
clean-cut, and tinged with a dry wit that made his hearers smile at the
humour while they remembered the common sense. In his senior year, he
won the first prize, a gold medal, for the best essay on the Principles
of the War for American Independence. The competition was open to all
undergraduates of American colleges. By this feat he won the esteem of
his college and disclosed a comprehensive and significant knowledge of
his own country.
From all accounts, during college life, he was different from many lads
in that he attended strictly to the business for which he had come.
In all of the stories told of this phase of his career, the mention
of girls is conspicuous by its absence. If he had the usual run of
college love affairs and romances, no one else knew about them, and
they have not come to light. All the reminiscent tales breaking forth
from his classmates of thirty years ago show a deep and abiding regard
for “Cooley,” as they called him, even though they poked fun at his
reticence and lack of loquacity.
This very introspection provided him with a reserve fund of assurance
that developed the self-confidence and poise to come through the
graduation with high honours, a prize winner and orator of the class.
Not being in a financial position to take a course in law school, he
studied law in the office of Judge Hammond of Northampton, Mass.,
and in less than two years was admitted to the bar and began his law
practice there.
Almost immediately, the young lawyer got into civic and political
activities. He soon was president of the Nantucket Bank, and, in 1899,
was elected to the City Council of Northampton, and the next year was
chosen city solicitor. He became clerk of the county court in 1904.
In 1905, his romance with Miss Grace A. Goodhue, of Burlington, Vt.,
culminated in their marriage.
Gossip has put forth various versions of the romance of President
Coolidge and his wife. One of the stories given much repetition tells
that, when Mr. Coolidge called upon one occasion, he found Miss Grace
away from home. As her return was expected momentarily, he decided to
wait. In the course of his conversation with her father the young man
announced that he dropped in to say that he had concluded that Grace
and he were going to be married. When her father inquired what Grace
thought about it, Mr. Coolidge is reported to have replied that he “had
not spoken to her about it yet.”
Mr. Coolidge was twice mayor of Northampton, and in 1907 was a member
of the Massachusetts Legislature, going to the State Senate in 1912 and
serving until 1915, including two terms as president of that body. The
lieutenant governorship of the state came to him in 1916, and in 1918
he found himself elected Governor.
When he called the Massachusetts Senate to order in 1914, he made the
shortest speech of acceptance on record in the annals of that body. It
contained forty-two words and received state-wide attention and stamped
him as timber for further political service. This speech has been
regarded as a classic in Massachusetts statecraft, for it embodies the
Coolidge Creed--“Do the Day’s Work” and “Be Brief.”
In 1917, he was elected to the governorship by a majority of seventeen
thousand, but after the great Boston police strike, which gave
him national recognition, and out of which grew the slogan, “law
and order,” he was reëlected in 1919 by more than one hundred and
twenty-five thousand majority, the largest vote ever given a candidate
for that office in that state.
The gist of his platform in his gubernatorial race, in which he won
such a sweeping victory, was as follows:
“Do the day’s work. If it be to protect the rights of the weak,
whoever objects, do it. If it be to help a powerful corporation, do
that. Expect to be called a stand-patter, but don’t be a stand-patter.
Expect to be called a demagogue, but don’t be a demagogue. Don’t
hesitate to be as revolutionary as science. Don’t hesitate to be as
reactionary as the multiplication table. Don’t expect to build up
the weak by pulling down the strong. Don’t hurry to legislate. Give
administration a chance to catch up with legislation.”
People who insist that the President is cold, taciturn, devoid of
feeling and sentiment, have never seen him take from his pocket a slim
little silver case, which he always carries, and open it to gaze upon
the face of the mother who left him years ago.
The President and his wife are both of the Congregational faith and
regular attendants of the First Church in Washington.
Mrs. Coolidge, from the first moment she appeared in Washington as
wife of the Vice President, made friends, and her popularity has never
ceased increasing. She is so youthful looking that it is hard to credit
her with being the mother of the tall son, John, to whom she now has
to look up, for he is rapidly topping his father in height.
No factor has contributed so largely to her continually mounting host
of friends and admirers in the Capital City and the country at large as
her modesty and simplicity, which have kept her natural and wholesome.
Mrs. Coolidge was born about a hundred miles from the home of her
husband, and, like him, she comes of an old New England family. She is
a native of Burlington, Vt., where her mother, Mrs. Lamira Goodhue,
resides. Her father died after she came to Washington.
After a childhood and girlhood practically like that of the generality
of girls born into good families of moderate means, she went to college
at the University of Vermont. In her freshman year she became one of
the founders of the Vermont Beta Chapter of the Pi Beta Phi Sorority,
which, years after, presented a portrait of her to the White House.
She took her A.B. degree, and after that followed the custom of New
England girls in seeking a vocation. In her case, it was teaching, the
less usual branch of teaching mutes. After three months’ training for
teaching the deaf at the Clark School in Northampton, she was given a
class of beginners. The difficulties of this work may be imagined when
it is remembered that she had not only to teach her pupils to read,
write, and cipher, but also to speak. One only need hear the vivacious
lady tell of her class of youngsters set apart from others by reason of
their defective senses to realize the enthusiasm she must have put into
this work of helping them acquire the art of spoken communication.
Her teaching was limited to three years, for at the end of that time
Mr. Coolidge persuaded her to give up a career and devote herself to
making a home for him.
With the advent of her own children, Mrs. Coolidge made a thorough
study of motherhood and child education. She always worked and played
with her boys and thus became really acquainted with their virtues
and their faults, and through this comradeship found herself able
to encourage and help them best. She studied educational problems
with minuteness, visiting all sorts of institutions of learning. She
believes in a close personal relation between the parent, the school,
and the child as a solution for many difficulties that beset both
pupils and instructors.
Mrs. Coolidge is a home-maker, first, last, and always. Her conception
of home-making is not bound by a perpetual routine of the mechanical
phases of housekeeping, as so often has been claimed, and over which
she has laughed merrily, but home-making, according to her code, means
first of all providing the family with all comforts possible to the
income and the luxury of genial, happy companionship: she served as a
buffer, firm and gracious, for a weary Vice President husband from the
importunities of the hotel telephone, and, despite the limitations of
a hotel suite, manipulated a chafing dish, hot-plate, and all of the
accessories for a daily popcorn feast, or a fudge party for vacationing
boys pining for a bit of their home treats.
She believes that it is a woman’s first duty to provide her husband
with all of the cheer and pleasure and creature comforts her
surroundings will permit, and send him forth to his battle with the
world, secure that at the end of a heavy day of toil he will find her
waiting for him ready to share his troubles or pleasures.
All of the world looked on with approval at the simple, dignified,
and wholly American good sense which controlled the movements of the
Coolidge boys when their father became Vice President of the United
States.
Mrs. Coolidge came to Washington with a half-formed plan for
installing her family in a house and sending her boys to the public
schools of the city. She had been there but a few hours, however,
when she learned the futility of such an idea, for she found out, as
Vice President and Mrs. Marshall had done when they came, that the
vice-presidential salary would be inadequate to meet such a plan. It
simply would not cover the rental of an appropriate house and the
necessary upkeep, with the added burden of food and clothing. Mrs.
Coolidge decided to follow the example of the Marshalls and do her
official entertaining in a hotel. She further concluded to take over
the hotel suite of her predecessor. As the duty of the Vice President,
outside of presiding over the Senate, is to represent the President,
who entertains, but is rarely entertained himself, Mrs. Coolidge
rapidly became convinced that there would be but little time or
opportunity for any family home life with her sons in Washington, and
after they had seen their father inducted into office, she sent them
home with their Grandfather Coolidge, with whom they had come to the
city, and had them finish their school term at home.
Vice President Marshall called himself “the official diner out,” and
the appropriateness of the term may be gathered from the fact that the
Vice President and his wife are expected to attend all of the White
House official dinners and receptions, all of the ten Cabinet dinners
to the President, and also that of the Speaker of the House, all of
which are fixed affairs. In addition, it is the duty of the Vice
President and his wife to appear everywhere. Throughout the season,
they are the guests of honour at dinners with such regularity that they
have about one evening a month when they have the opportunity to remain
at home.
Mrs. Coolidge was in constant demand for teas, luncheons, receptions,
and, in fact, for every form of social gathering.
When the Coolidges found themselves in the White House, they considered
it advisable to follow a schedule for their sons similar to that
which had prevailed before. They selected Mercersburg, Pennsylvania
Academy, with Amherst, their father’s alma mater, in the offing, as the
educational programme for these lads. The boys made visits to the White
House on holidays, and their mother managed to slip away occasionally
to see them. In the summer, they went to their grandfather’s farm and
to visit their Grandmother Goodhue at the Coolidge home in Northampton.
John put in time at the Camp Devens Military Camp. Neither went to
Washington when President Harding died.
In the summer of 1924, both boys went to the White House to visit
their parents before leaving for vacation activities. Both of them had
planned to go to Camp Devens first and then to their grandfather’s
farm. While playing tennis, Calvin, Jr., got a blister on his heel,
an injury so slight that he paid no attention to it until a fever
developed a few days later. Examination by Dr. Boone, the White House
physician, revealed the first symptoms of the blood poisoning which
caused his death in Walter Reed Hospital within a week.
All of the nation grieved with the father and the mother; the hearts
of all parents ached for them in the loss that nothing, not even time,
can fill. They planned simple and beautiful ceremonies for their boy
at Plymouth, where he was laid to rest with four generations of his
forbears.
Following her great bereavement, Mrs. Coolidge spent many hours in
the gardens south of the mansion knitting. Only mothers who have
experienced a similar sorrow know of the heartaches and the poignant
memories represented in the exquisite stitches of the silken socks, the
dainty ties, and little bags, fashioned by her expert fingers, while
John, all desire for the camp gone with the death of his loved younger
brother, stayed around to help her get through the first lonely weeks.
The pets, Paul Pry and Rob Roy, the handsome white collies; the cats
(the roaming Tige would not stay home and had to be locked up to keep
him from killing the birds, instead of devoting himself to his catly
duty in the basement); the birds which Mrs. Coolidge has in her sitting
room--all helped in a way to fill the round of duties that occupied her
time.
Although carrying a heavy heart, the First Lady did not obtrude her
personal sorrow into her official position. Instead of the sombre black
which was more in keeping with her feelings, she resolutely kept to
colours, but the vivid tones and bright tints worn previously were laid
aside for the softer grays, orchid, and much white.
Mrs. Coolidge’s frankness and lack of pretense have endeared her to
everyone, and many stories are related of her little kindly actions.
As the Vice President’s wife, she frankly discussed the futility of
trying to establish and maintain a suitable establishment equipped
for entertaining on the inadequate vice-presidential salary. She
frankly admitted she wore ready-made gowns and liked them because she
could slip into them and get the finished effect without the waste of
precious time and effort in endless sessions of fittings and tiresome
searches for trimmings.
She dresses in most becoming style. Her taste is quiet and refined,
and she has the knack of wearing her clothes well. She always
presents a chic finish and smartness that is good to look at, and her
old-fashioned upbringing is apparent in that, once dressed, she never
gives her clothes another thought.
One of the prettiest stories of her many thoughtful kindnesses is
of the gift of huge boxes of lovely White House roses to fifty shop
girls of the city who worked as seamstresses in the big establishment
where her gowns were made for the first season. Best of all, when the
messenger carried the great box into the establishment, he carried
along a large White House monogrammed envelope to the forewoman,
and within, in her own handwriting, was the First Lady’s gracious
expression of her appreciation of the care and work they put on her
“White House trousseau.” Further joy descended upon that establishment
when the dressmaker was invited to the next White House reception to
see how the gown looked and get ideas for her own future use.
From the time of her arrival in the Capital City, Mrs. Coolidge has
manifested an interest in every civic enterprise of welfare. She has
distributed the Salvation Army Christmas baskets to the poor at the
headquarters of that organization. She and the President have given
encouragement to the community Christmas trees by attending, and
the President by officially lighting them. They have encouraged and
participated in the Christmas carols sung in front of the White House,
and they have rivalled each other in the number of memorial trees they
have planted and the corner stones they have laid.
Mrs. Coolidge does not like to talk about herself. She insists that the
wives of public men best aid their husbands’ careers by being seen as
little as necessary and heard even less, and she puts this theory into
practice.
While she does not talk politics at any time, the impression that
she is not interested in politics is wrong. She holds that women have
a very definite obligation and responsibility as citizens, and it is
their duty and privilege to do serious and effective work toward an
intelligent discharge of public duties.
In a published letter to Mrs. George Horace Lorimer, President of the
Republican Women of Pennsylvania, she set forth her views most clearly:
“I have been pleased to learn of the general movement to organize the
Republican women of Pennsylvania with a view to developing the widest
interest in and understanding of the public questions before the
country.
“It is always gratifying to know of such organized movements for more
efficient citizenship, whether among men or women, and whether of one
party or the other.
“In the case of your own organization, it is an occasion of special
congratulation that so broad a programme of activity is afoot, because
of the special qualifications and equipment you have for making it a
worth-while movement.
“The women have lately come into new and, to most of them, rather
unexpected responsibilities in their relations as citizens. It is
altogether desirable that these be taken seriously, and effective work
is undoubtedly needed among them; precisely as is also needed among
a great section of the male voters whose preoccupation with other
interests too often interferes with the most intelligent discharge of
public duties.”
One of the interesting and highly significant tributes to Mrs. Coolidge
came in the ceremony at Boston University on December 12, 1924, when
President Lemuel H. Murlin conferred upon her the honorary degree of
Doctor of Laws. This was done upon the occasion of the installation of
Mrs. Lucy Jenkins Franklin, the first dean of women of this university.
As President Murfin conferred upon her the purple hood with its
trimmings of red and white, and the mortarboard hat with its gold
tassel, he spoke of her as--
“Grace Goodhue Coolidge, student, university graduate, teacher,
daughter, wife, mother, whose fine qualities of mind and heart have
gained the confidence, admiration, and love of the American people.”
Mrs. Coolidge has so many charming qualities that all who meet
her become enthusiastic in discussing her. First of all, she is
good-looking; she has, in fact, just missed being a beauty, has a
slight girlish figure, sparkling eyes, and a smile that is already
famous.
She is youth personified. She has a buoyancy of spirit, a joy of
life that will keep her young past three score and ten. She radiates
cheeriness and enthusiasm. She loves people, is willing to meet
everyone halfway, and enjoys her social obligations. She is perfectly
fitted to fill her rôle. Health, temperament, and age, all combine to
aid her. To Mrs. Harding’s cordiality and suavity she adds the vigour
and lightness of youth and health. She calls people her best books,
loves being in the heart of history in the making, loves the contacts
she gets with the celebrities of the world and the interesting people
of our own land.
At the White House she is at her best. She makes no false moves. One of
her first innovations was evolving an original response to appeals from
organizations seeking donations from the Mistress of the White House
for every conceivable project. An autographed steel engraving of the
White House now goes in place of the dainty embroidered handkerchiefs
which Mrs. Harding used to send.
Mrs. Coolidge’s New England conscience and training have given her a
perspective, a set of standards, an appreciation of values, and a
tact that keep her anchored to the conventional neutrality zone. She
has brought to the White House an all-around efficiency of the New
England housewife, the modern vision of the college woman, the broad
understanding of the trained educator, without the limitations of the
pedagogue, and the clearly marked responsibility of the citizen and
voter and co-partner with her husband in his political obligations to
his party and to his country.
As the time for the inauguration of Calvin Coolidge approached, he was
much better equipped even than when he inherited the office through the
accident of death. Nor had he exhausted his strength or lost his calm
understanding of what would be expected of him.
President Coolidge possesses a genius for work. Contrary to the popular
belief developed in the past few years, that the presidential job is
too much for the vitality of any man, President Coolidge has thrived
upon its manifold exactions. He has gained weight and found enjoyment,
not hardship, in his office and the opportunities opened thereby.
Without doubt, the electrical steed which the President had installed
and which caused such a whirlwind of comment, none of which retarded
its use, has had much to do in keeping him fit. However it is, both
he and Mrs. Coolidge approached the time of their installation as the
choice of the American people, in good health and happy spirits.
Just before the Inauguration, there was a great deal of discussion and
adverse comment on the custom of shaking hands. The fact that, although
in the White House but about twenty months, President Coolidge had
shaken hands with ninety thousand people brought forth argument against
the practice on the part of some of his close friends. A committee
was appointed to attempt to relieve him of some of his routine
duties. When the solicitous group had expounded to him their views
upon the matter and expressed their desires and intentions, expecting
him to acquiesce with pleasure and possibly with praise for their
thoughtfulness of him, he electrified them and disposed of the entire
matter in his characteristic fashion--“BUT I LIKE IT!”
The quirky lines about the President’s mouth and eyes, a certain
twinkle that insists upon showing itself, are evidences of his sense
of humour, and emphasize the fact that he is a reserved New Englander,
whose reserve is just the outer crust of dignity, a sort of public
armour, shield, and buckler against the too intrusive, which must melt
away into genial friendliness. He has a dry wit, keen-edged, that is
infectious with its quiet drollery.
At one of the informal gatherings, a woman, desiring to impress herself
upon his mind, remarked airily, “Mr. President, I’m from Boston!” With
that twinkle that is so ready to show itself, he remarked instantly,
“You’ll never get over it!”
In accordance with his wish, the ceremonies for March 4, 1925, were
made as simple and free from display as possible. Fifty thousand
visitors supplied in enthusiasm what was lacking in brilliant display,
and many were the regrets that so momentous an event in the nation’s
life should be accompanied by so little of the pageantry of pomp and
power. All of the enthusiasm of former days possessed the throngs of
pedestrians along the route to and from the Capitol.
Preceded by a troop of cavalry and a troop of mounted police, the
presidential automobile, containing President Coolidge and Mrs.
Coolidge and Senator Curtis, of Kansas, left the White House at the
usual time, for the Capitol. Next came Vice President-elect General
Charles G. Dawes and Mrs. Dawes, with Representative Griest, of
Pennsylvania. Other members of the congressional and the inaugural
committees followed. The usual programme in the Senate chamber was
carried out and much enlivened by the address of Vice President Dawes,
who criticized the rules of that body.
On the East Portico, the oath of office was administered by Chief
Justice Taft, the only ex-president to become Chief Justice of the
United States. For the first time, the President’s address was
broadcast to the entire country by radio.
The ovation he received was all that could be desired. The ride back to
the White House for luncheon was made as quickly as possible. There was
a full programme for the afternoon and evening, including a reception
to visiting governors, among whom was Mrs. Nellie Ross, one of the
first of the woman governors.
After the luncheon, the entire party assembled in the reviewing stand,
this time not requiring the protection of the glass windows. The parade
started. As the famous Richmond Blues swung around Fifteenth Street,
a man on the presidential stands several rows in the rear of the
presidential box, with lifted hat, said most earnestly and fervently,
“GOD BLESS THE COOLIDGES!”
Mrs. Coolidge turned, her eyes shining with the uplift of the hour, and
smilingly answered with an earnestness and fervency that matched his
remark--
“HE HAS!”
THE END
INDEX
Abbott, Josiah C., member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
_Alabama_ dispute, is settled by arbitration, 68.
Alaska, its purchase negotiated by Secretary Seward, 47.
Algonquin, is smuggled into the White House, 303.
All Souls Unitarian Church, Washington, President Taft occupies
pulpit, 336.
Allen, Elisha H., his death at President Arthur’s reception, 156.
Ames, Mary Clemmer, describes Mrs. R. B. Hayes, 113;
a resident of Washington, 195.
Ames, Oakes, is threatened with expulsion from the House, 83.
Andrews, Eliphalet, his presidential portraits, 121.
Anthony, Susan B., at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69.
Anti-suffragists, present petition to Congress, 70.
Arnold, Samuel, imprisoned, 16.
Arthur, Alan D., present when his father takes oath of office, 149.
Arthur, Chester A., precedes James A. Garfield as schoolmaster in
Pownal, Vermont, 132;
collector of the Port of New York, 135;
wins universal respect during President Garfield’s illness, 142;
is absent from Washington at President Garfield’s shooting, 146;
receives official notice of President Garfield’s death, 148;
twice takes the oath of office, 149;
two reasons for his nomination, 149;
his history, 150;
is appointed Collector of the Port of New York, 152;
rehabilitates the White House, 155;
an eligible widower, 158;
entertains General Grant, 159;
entertains Christine Nilsson, 159;
his dislike of publicity, 160;
opens Garfield Memorial Fair, 162;
dedicates Washington Monument, 168;
at Cleveland’s inauguration, 171;
his death, 195.
Arthur, Mrs. Chester A., her marriage, 150;
dislikes her husband’s political affiliations, 152;
her death, 153.
Atzerodt, George A., executed, 16.
Axel, Prince of Denmark, is entertained at the White House, 371.
Axson, Ellen, her engagement to Woodrow Wilson, 349, 359.
Axson, Professor Stockton, article on President Wilson’s married
life, 358.
Babcock, O. E. is acquitted of profiting from the Whisky Ring, 96.
Badeau, Brigadier General Adam, entertains Nellie Grant, 93;
reads President Grant’s letter refusing a third nomination, 101.
Baker, Colonel Lafayette, attempts to capture Lincoln’s assassins, 4;
disposes of John Wilkes Booth’s body, 12.
Baker, Lieutenant L. B., commands force that captured John Wilkes
Booth, 5.
Baker, Newton D., Secretary of War, 366.
Baker, Mrs. Newton D., her war-time activities, 369.
Baldinger, Major, at Mrs. Harding’s reception, 388.
Balfour, Arthur James, at the White House, 370;
at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Bancroft, Judge, escorts President Garfield at inauguration ball, 129.
Barney, Mrs. A. C., lends chairs for Taft inaugural ball, 321.
Barratti, A., sends Jefferson Davis’s coffee set to Andrew
Johnson, 48.
Barton, Clara, president of American Association of Red Cross, 261.
Bassett, Captain, at Benjamin Harrison’s inauguration, 199.
Bayard, Kate, her death, 184.
Bayard, Senator Thomas F., at Grant’s second inauguration, 78;
member of the Electoral Commission, 110;
Secretary of State, 180.
Beach, Rev. Dr. Sylvester W., officiates at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s
wedding, 347.
Beauregard, Midshipman, at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 293.
Beecher, Mrs. Catherine E., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Belknap, W. W., resigns as Secretary of War, 97, 99;
his history, 97 _et seq._
Bell, Chairman, at McKinley’s inauguration, 243.
Bernard, Professor Montague, member of Joint High Commission, 66.
Bicknell, Mrs. E. P., accompanies Mrs. Woodrow Wilson to Goat
Alley, 350.
Bingham, John A., presents impeachment charges to the Senate, 46.
Bird, Mrs. Charles Sumner, member of advisory council, Washington
disarmament conference, 400.
Bissell, Wilson S., Postmaster General, 225.
Blaine, James G., Speaker of the House, 55;
asks investigation of Credit Mobilier charges, 87;
fails to secure Republican Presidential nomination, 108;
Secretary of State in Garfield’s Cabinet, 135;
sees President Garfield shot, 140;
delivers President Garfield’s funeral oration, 144;
prepares Arthur for President Garfield’s death, 146;
is accused of conspiracy with Guiteau, 147;
his reply, 147;
is nominated for presidency, 175;
Secretary of State in Harrison’s Cabinet, 201;
refuses to try for nomination, 205.
Blatch, Harriet Stanton, protests against lack of protection for
suffragists, 342.
Blech, Alice, Mrs. Taft’s social secretary, 332.
Boardman, Mabel, purchases testimonial for Mrs. Taft, 338.
Boggs, Mrs. James H., member of Inaugural Committee, 365.
Bones, Helen W., invites the future Mrs. Wilson to White House
tea, 371.
Booth, John Wilkes, his capture and death, 5 _et seq._;
his diary printed, 14.
Borden, Sir Robert, at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Borie, Rudolph R., Secretary of the Navy, 54.
Boston University, confers honorary degree on Mrs. Coolidge, 415.
Botelho, Dr. A. J. de O’lvera, wedding present to the second
Mrs. Wilson, 357.
Boutwell, George S., presents impeachment charges to the Senate, 46;
Secretary of the Treasury, 54.
Boynton, Mrs., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Bradley, Justice, member of the Electoral Commission, 110;
changes his conclusion, 111-112.
Brady, Justice J. R., administers oath of office to Chester A.
Arthur, 149.
Brewster, Attorney General, secures indictment of seven Star Route
contractors, 166.
Briand, Aristide, at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Briggs, Olivia Edson, a resident of Washington, 196.
Bristow, Benjamin H., exposes the Whisky Ring, 96.
Brooks, James, is threatened with expulsion from the House, 83.
Brown, Marjorie, at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 346.
Brown, Reverend Olympia, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69.
Bryan, William Jennings, is nominated for the presidency, 254, 254;
is renominated in 1900, 264;
Secretary of State, 345;
resigns, 366.
Buckner, Simeon B., is nominated for the vice presidency, 254.
Buell, General Don C., proposes to evacuate Nashville, 31.
Bullock, Seth, at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 294.
“Bummers,” in the Grand Review, 21.
Burchard, Rev. M., warns against “Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion,” 177.
Burleson, Albert S., Postmaster General, 345.
Burleson, Mrs. Albert S., her war-time activities, 369.
Burleson, Mrs. Richard Coke, leads woman suffrage parade, 340.
Burnett, Frances Hodgson, at Garfield Memorial Fair, 164;
a resident of Washington, 195.
Burroughs, John, and Roosevelt, 312.
Burton, Benjamin R., at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 346.
Butler, Benjamin F., presents impeachment charges to the Senate, 46;
is nominated for presidency, 175.
Butler, Mrs., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Cannon, Joseph G., at Harding’s inauguration, 378.
Cantacuzene-Speransky, Princess Julia Grant, returns to America, 92.
Carew, Edith, her marriage to Roosevelt, 312.
Carlisle, John G., Secretary of the Treasury, 225.
Carroll, Miss Jennie, signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Casey, Colonel T. L., secretary to Mrs. R. B. Hayes, 117;
directs resumed construction of Washington Monument, 126.
Castri, Srinivasa, at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Catacazy, Monsieur de, his recall requested, 67.
Centennial Exposition of 1876, funds raised at the Centennial Tea
Party, 94;
electric light and telephone are exhibited, 99.
Centennial Tea Party, held in the Rotunda of the National Capitol, 94.
Chaffee, Adna R., at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 292.
Chaffee, Lieutenant General, at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 292.
Chandler, Senator Zachariah, appeals to President Grant for a fair
electoral count, 109.
Chase, Chief Justice Salmon P., administers presidential oath to
General Grant, 52;
officiates at Grant’s second inauguration, 78;
history, 81.
Christian, George B., Jr., at Harding’s inauguration, 378;
informs Coolidge of Harding’s death, 401.
Civil Service Commission, is established, 165.
Claflin, Tennessee, publishes _Woodhull and Claflin’s Weekly_, 70.
Clark, Dr. De Witt Scoville, at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 346.
Clay, General Cecil, at McKinley’s inauguration, 245.
Clay, Clement C., reward offered for his arrest, 3.
Cleary, William C., reward offered for his arrest, 3.
Cleveland, Grover, makes inaugural address before taking oath, 171;
is nominated on the second ballot, 175;
his history, 178 _et seq._;
resigns as governor, 178;
his love of children, 173, 182;
is married in the White House, 189;
his honeymoon, 190;
his independence arouses antagonism, 196, 206;
at Benjamin Harrison’s inauguration, 198, 199;
is renominated, 205;
second inauguration, 222;
change in his attitude toward social affairs, 227;
dinner in honour of Princess Eulalie, 230;
his death, 242.
Cleveland, Mrs. Grover, legislation ends advertising use of her
pictures, 191;
as White House hostess, 192;
denies unhappy marriage, 194;
at President Cleveland’s second inaugural ball, 223;
calls on Princess Eulalie, 230;
her receptions as described by Helen Nicolay, 239.
Cleveland, Marian, opens “Cotton States and International
Exhibition,” 237.
Cleveland, Rose, acts as White House hostess, 174, 186;
takes a pew in the First Presbyterian Church, 182;
financial success of her book, 186.
Cleveland, Ruth, is protected from tourists, 225.
Cleveland, Rev. William, at his brother’s wedding, 190.
Clifford, Justice, member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
Cody, “Buffalo Bill,” at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 294.
Colfax, Mrs. Schuyler, at President Grant’s inaugural ball, 52.
Colman, Norman J., Secretary of Agriculture, 196.
Columbia, District of, its territorial government established, 56.
Conger, E. J., commands force that captured John Wilkes Booth, 5.
Conkling, Roscoe, at the Republican National Convention of 1876, 134;
resigns in protest, 135;
is accused of conspiracy with Guiteau, 147.
Cooke, Henry D., Governor of District of Columbia, 56.
Coolidge, Calvin, at Harding’s inauguration, 378;
is inducted into vice presidency, 379;
learns of Harding’s death, 401;
takes oath of office, 401;
proposes to carry out Harding’s policies, 402;
his history, 404;
attends Harding’s Cabinet meetings, 404;
enjoys handshaking ordeals, 418;
his sense of humour, 418;
his inauguration, 418.
Coolidge, Mrs. Calvin, at Harding’s inauguration, 378;
her popularity, 408, 413;
her history, 409;
favours more efficient citizenship, 415;
receives honorary degree, 415;
at Coolidge’s inauguration, 418.
Coolidge, Calvin, Jr., his death, 412.
Coppinger, Mrs., her death, 213.
Corbet, Mrs., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Corbin, Abel R., engages in gold speculation, 72.
Corbin, General, provides special train for Mrs. Garfield, 141;
at McKinley’s second inauguration, 265.
Cortelyou, George B., at shooting of President McKinley, 267;
is charged with political favouritism by Judge Parker, 291.
“Cotton States and International Exhibition,” is opened by Marian
Cleveland, 237.
Couzens, Phoebe, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69.
Cowan, Fred, describes Andrew Johnson’s austerity, 33.
Cox, John D., Secretary of the Interior, 55.
Cox, Mrs. Jacob D., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Coxey’s army, marches to Washington, 234.
Cragin, Senator Aaron H., at Grant’s second inauguration, 78.
Craig, “Big Bill,” his death, 280.
Crédit Mobilier scandal, Ben Perley Poore recounts its
history, 84 _et seq._
Cresswell, John A., Postmaster General, 55.
Crook, Colonel William W., describes Mrs. Andrew Johnson, 34;
describes President Harrison’s Christmas tree, 212.
Curtis, Senator Charles, at Coolidge’s inauguration, 418.
Cushing, Caleb, American counsel before Geneva arbitration
tribunal, 68.
Custer, Brevet Major General George M., in the Grand Review, 19.
Custer, General George Armstrong, his death at the Little Big
Horn, 99.
Dahlgren, Mrs. John A., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Daniel, William, is nominated for vice presidency, 175.
Daniels, Josephus, Secretary of the Navy, 345.
Daniels, Mrs. Josephus, her war-time activities, 368.
Daugherty, Harry M., Attorney General, 379.
Daughters of the American Revolution, Mrs. Benjamin Harrison First
National President General, 210.
Davis, Bancroft, represents United States before Geneva arbitration
tribunal, 68.
Davis, James J., Secretary of Labour, 379.
Davis, Jefferson, reward offered for his arrest, 3;
arrested and indicted for treason, 3;
released without trial, 4;
his case dismissed, 48;
his coffee set given to Andrew Johnson, 48.
Davis, Midshipman, at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 293.
Davis, Pauline, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69.
Dawes, General Charles G., at Coolidge’s inauguration, 418;
his address to the Senate, 419.
Debs, Eugene, in Pullman strike, 235.
Decatur, Midshipman Stephen, at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 293.
Denby, Edwin, Secretary of the Navy, 379.
Dent, F. F., devotion to President Grant, 61.
Desha, Mary, helps found the Daughters of the American
Revolution, 211.
De Struvem, Madame, at President Arthur’s reception, 157.
Devens, General Charles, Attorney General, 106.
Dewey, Admiral George, dinner in his honour, 258;
president of Santiago Court of Inquiry, 261.
De Wolff, Mr., marries the future Mrs. Harding, 382.
Dimmick, Mrs. Mary Scott Lord, her marriage to Benjamin Harrison, 220.
Donoghue, Justice Charles, present when Chester A. Arthur takes oath
of office, 149.
Donovan, Mike, gives physical examination to President Roosevelt, 286;
describes interview, 287.
Dougherty, Turner, moves to Greeneville, Tenn., 29.
Douglass, Frederick, Marshal of District of Columbia, 116.
Durant, Doctor, President of the Union Pacific Railway, 86.
Early, Midshipman, at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 293.
Edmunds, Senator, administers oath to T. A. Hendricks, 171.
Edmunds, Mrs., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Edson, Mrs. Kathrine Phillips, member of advisory council, Washington
disarmament conference, 400.
Edwards, Senator George P., member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
Egan, Mrs. Eleanor Franklin, member of advisory council, Washington
disarmament conference, 400.
Electoral Commission, its membership, 110.
Endicott, William C., Secretary of War, 180.
Eulalie, Princess Infanta of Spain, visits Washington, 230 _et seq._
Evarts, William E., American counsel before Geneva arbitration
tribunal, 68.
Evarts, William, M., Secretary of State, 106.
Fairbanks, Charles Warren, is sworn in as Vice President, 293.
Fairbanks, Mrs. Charles W., at Roosevelt’s inaugural ball, 296.
Fairchild, Sec’y, at Benjamin Harrison’s inauguration, 199.
Fall, Albert B., Secretary of the Interior, 379.
Field, Justice, member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
Fish, Hamilton, Secretary of State, 53;
coöperates with President Grant in obtaining a Joint High
Commission, 66;
member of Joint High Commission, 66;
requests recall of Monsieur de Catacazy, 67.
Fish, Mrs. Hamilton, her statement on fashions, 60.
Fisk, James, Jr., a partner of Abel R. Corbin, 73.
Folsom, Frances, becomes engaged to President Cleveland, 188;
her marriage, 189.
Folsom, Oscar, Cleveland’s law partner, 187.
Ford, Public Printer, thanks Mrs. Woodrow Wilson, 351.
Francklyn, O. G., President Garfield at his cottage, 142.
Franklin, Mrs. Lucy Jenkins, dean of women, Boston University, 415.
Frelinghuysen, Senator Frederick, member of the Electoral
Commission, 110.
French, ex-Commissioner, present when Chester A. Arthur takes oath of
office, 149.
French, Mrs. B. B., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Fuller, Chief Justice M. W., administers oath to Benjamin
Harrison, 199;
administers oath to Cleveland, 222;
administers oath to McKinley, 243;
administers oath to Roosevelt, 293;
administers oath to Taft, 319.
Gage, Jocelyn, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69.
Gallinger, Senator Jacob H., administers oath to Thomas R.
Marshall, 342.
Galt, Mrs. Edith Bolling, her marriage to President Wilson, 354.
Garfield, Mrs. Abram, at her son’s inauguration, 129.
Garfield, James A., member of the Electoral Commission, 110;
his inauguration, 128, 129;
his history, 130 _et seq._;
is nominated as compromise candidate, 134;
is shot by Guiteau, 140;
his death, 142;
constitutional question raised by his illness, 142;
is universally mourned, 143.
Garfield, Mrs. J. A., at inauguration ball, 129;
prefers her home to social affairs, 138;
her knowledge of politics, 145.
Garfield Memorial Fair, is opened by President Arthur, 162.
Garland, Augustus H., Attorney General, 181.
Garrett, John M., aids in the capture of John Wilkes Booth, 6.
Garrison, Lindley M., Secretary of War, 345;
resigns, 362.
Gatewood, Cadet, at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 293.
“Gath”--_see_ Townsend, George Alfred.
Geddes, Sir Auckland, at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Geneva arbitrators, award damages to the United States, 68.
Geronimo, at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 294.
Gibbons, Cardinal, transmits President Cleveland’s felicitations to
Pope Leo XIII, 194.
Goodhue, Grace A., her marriage to Calvin Coolidge, 407.
Gorgas, Dr. W. C., at Panama Canal, 290.
Gould, Jay, a partner of Abel R. Corbin, 73.
Grand Duke Alexis, of Russia, is welcomed at the White House, 67;
dinner in his honour, 117.
Grand Review of 1865, preparations completed by President Johnson and
Secretary Stanton, 18;
description, 19 _et seq._;
William McKinley participates, 250.
Grant, Colonel Frederick D., his marriage, 92.
Grant, Nellie, at the second inauguration ball, 80;
her marriage, 91.
Grant, Ulysses S., at the Grand Review, 22;
Secretary of War _ad interim_, 44;
elected President because of his military, not political record, 51;
his popularity, 51;
improves appearance of City of Washington, 56;
breaks irksome social precedents, 58;
his routine as President, 61, _et seq._;
his love of horses, 61;
his courtship, 64;
breaks power of the gold speculators, 73;
uses President Washington’s chair at his second inauguration, 78;
writes to General Badeau of his family, 93;
refuses a third nomination, 101;
his two-year trip abroad, 102;
fails to secure third nomination, 102;
writes autobiography, 103;
his death, 103, 183;
receives appeal for fair electoral count, 109;
present at Chester A. Arthur’s inauguration, 149;
is entertained by President Arthur, 159;
is retired with rank and pay of a general, 166.
Grant, Mrs. Ulysses S., at inaugural ball, 52;
a charming hostess, 58, 59;
at the second inaugural ball, 80;
gives informal luncheon for President Hayes, 105;
at McKinley’s inauguration, 245.
Gray, Justice, at President Cleveland’s second inaugural ball, 223.
Grayson, Dr. Cary T., receives charge from Mrs. Woodrow Wilson, 353;
describes Wilson’s elation at Hughes’s reported election, 360;
at Harding’s inauguration, 378.
Greeley, Horace, one of Jefferson Davis’s bondsmen, 4;
is nominated for President, 76.
Greenback Convention, nominates candidates for Presidency and Vice
Presidency, 175.
Greenwood, Grace, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69;
a resident of Washington, 195.
Gregory, Mrs., her war-time activities, 369.
Grenfell, Dr. Wilfred T., at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 347.
Gresham, Walter Q., Secretary of State, 225;
meets Princess Eulalie, 230.
Gray, Earl de, member of Joint High Commission, 66.
Griest, Representative W. W., at Coolidge’s inauguration, 419.
Griffing, Josephine, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69.
Guiteau, Charles J., follows Garfield to church, 139;
shoots Garfield, 140;
his trial, 144.
Hagner, Belle, Mrs. Roosevelt’s social secretary, 298.
“Half-breeds,” favour conciliation with the South, 127.
Hamilton, Gail, a resident of Washington, 195.
Hammond, Judge, Coolidge studies in his law office, 407.
Hanna, Marcus A., secures McKinley’s nomination, 253;
at McKinley’s second inauguration, 265;
tribute to McKinley, 269.
Harding, Warren G., his inauguration, 378 _et seq._;
during Mrs. Harding’s illness, 387, 388;
strain of his Alaska trip, 389;
his death, 390, 401;
his history, 391 _et seq._;
invites Coolidge to attend Cabinet meetings, 404.
Harding, Mrs. Warren G., at Harding’s inauguration, 378;
an efficient housekeeper, 380, 384;
her history, 381;
submits to handshaking ordeal, 385;
at her husband’s death, 390;
her death, 391.
Harmon, Judson, Governor of Ohio, 398.
Harper, Colonel R. M., inaugural chairman, 365.
Harrison, Benjamin, takes oath of office, 199;
his history, 201 _et seq._;
is unanimously nominated, 205;
his dignity, 207, 212;
his speaking tour, 214;
his love of children, 215;
returns to his law office, 219;
member of Venezuela board of arbitration, 220;
his second marriage, 220;
his death, 220;
appoints Roosevelt Civil Service Commissioner, 312.
Harrison, Mrs. Benjamin, hopes to find privacy in the White
House, 200;
renovates the White House, 208;
first National President General of the Daughters of the American
Revolution, 210;
her illness and death, 216;
portrait by Daniel Huntington, 217.
Harts, Colonel W. W., at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 346.
Hastings, General Russell, marries Emily Platt, 120.
Hay, John, gives ring to Roosevelt, 293.
Hayes, Rutherford B., learns of his election en route to
Washington, 104;
twice takes the oath of office, 105;
his history, 107;
employs many scrapbooks, 118;
withdraws Federal troops from Southern states, 126;
his interest in preservation of historic places, 126;
his death, 127;
at Garfield’s inauguration, 128;
at Chester A. Arthur’s inauguration, 149.
Hayes, Mrs. Rutherford B., at the inauguration, 113;
forbids the use of wines at the White House, 114;
holds her first reception, 116;
silver wedding celebrated at the White House, 119;
her one piece of lobbying, 121;
her love of flowers, 124;
her portrait painted, 125;
her death, 125;
at Garfield’s inauguration, 128, 129.
Hayes, Webb, confidential secretary to President Hayes, 117, 118.
Hayes-Tilden electorial contest, Congress creates Electoral
Commission, 110;
decision in favor of Hayes, 112.
Hays, Will H., Postmaster General, 379.
Hazel, Judge John R., administers oath to Roosevelt, 277.
Henderson, John B., permanent chairman of Republican National
Convention, 175.
Hendricks, Thomas A., Democratic nominee for Vice-President, 108, 175;
takes oath of office, 171;
his death, 183.
Henry, Colonel Guy V., commands cavalry escort of Princess
Eulalie, 230.
Henry, Mrs. Joseph, signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Henry, William Wirt, speaks at centenary of laying of Capitol
cornerstone, 234.
Herbert, Hilary A., Secretary of the Navy, 225.
Herndon, Ellen Lewis, marriage to Chester A. Arthur, 150.
Herold, David E. surrenders, 8;
executed, 16.
Herrick, Myron T., Governor of Ohio, 398.
Herron, Nellie, her marriage to William H. Taft, 326.
Hill, David B., is not a Cleveland man, 206.
Hoar, Ebenezer Rockwood, Attorney General, 55;
member of Joint High Commission, 66.
Hoar, George F., member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
Hobart, Garret A., is nominated for Vice President, 254;
his death, 263.
Honore, Ida Marie, her marriage to Colonel Frederick D. Grant, 92.
Hopkins, Archibald, recites poem at Admiral Dewey dinner, 259.
Hopkins, Mrs. Archibald, works to eliminate Washington’s slums, 349.
Hooker, Major General Joseph, praises Colonel Benjamin Harrison, 204.
Hooker, Isabelle Beecher, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69.
Hoover, Herbert, early experience as food administrator, 368;
Secretary of Commerce, 379.
Hoover, Mrs. Herbert, her war-time activities, 368.
Horax, Dr. Gilbert, at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 346.
Houston, David F., Secretary of Agriculture, 345.
Howard, Major-General Oliver O., in the Grand Review, 20.
Howard, General, at McKinley’s inauguration, 245.
Hoxie, Vinnie Ream, sculptor of Farragut statue, 136;
his history, 136;
decorates Hall of Representatives for bazaar, 162.
Hughes, Charles Evans, is reported elected President, 360;
Secretary of State, 379;
presides at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Hughes, Charles Evans, Jr., at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 346.
Hunt, William H., Secretary of the Navy, 135;
signs announcement of President Garfield’s death, 148.
Hunter, W., temporary Secretary of State, 3.
Huntington, Daniel, paints Mrs. R. B. Hayes’s portrait, 125;
portrait of Mrs. Benjamin Harrison presented to the White
House, 217.
Hunton, Eppa, member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
Indian chiefs, at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 294.
Ingersoll, Robert, his speech nominating Blaine for the
Presidency, 108.
Ishii, Viscount, at the White House, 370.
Jaffray, Mrs. Jane, White House housekeeper, 331.
Jagger, Bishop, officiates at Emily Platt’s wedding, 121.
James, Thomas L., Postmaster General, 135;
signs announcement of President Garfield’s death, 148.
Jay Cooke & Co., its failure precipitates the panic of 1873, 89.
Jefferson, Joseph, hunts and fishes with Cleveland, 242.
Joffre, Marshal, at the White House, 370.
Johnson, Andrew, plans to follow Lincoln’s policies, 2, 25, 37;
offers reward for arrest of Lincoln’s assassins, 3;
orders certified copy of John Wilkes Booth’s diary, 14;
orders executions of Lincoln assassination conspirators, 16;
completes preparations for the Grand Review, 18;
compared to Lincoln, 25;
his history, 27 _et seq._;
routine as President, 36;
appoints provisional governors for eight southern states, 37, 38;
threatens Maximilian in Mexico, 39;
his steps toward reconstruction repudiated by Congress, 40;
opposes immediate enfranchisement of the Negroes, 41;
makes a three-weeks’ speaking tour, 42;
demands Secretary Stanton’s resignation, 44, 45;
tried by impeachment court, 46;
acquitted, 47;
issues his last Amnesty proclamation, 48;
receives Jefferson Davis’s coffee set, 48;
leaves the White House, 48;
elected Senator, 49;
death, 49.
Johnson, Mrs. Andrew, her marriage, 29;
her illness, 31, 33, 34;
arrives at the White House, 33.
Johnson, Colonel Robert, secretary to Andrew Johnson, 33.
Jones, “General” Rosalie, in woman suffrage parade, 341.
Jusserand, Ambassador J. J., at Washington disarmament
conference, 399.
Kaiulani, her visit to America, 228.
Kerman, Senator Francis, member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
Key, David M., Postmaster General, 106.
Kirkwood, Samuel J., Secretary of the Interior, 135;
signs announcement of President Garfield’s death, 148.
Kling, Florence, her marriage to Mr. De Wolff, 382.
Kniep, Josephine, White House housekeeper, 231.
Knox, Senator Philander, at Taft’s inauguration, 319.
Lamar, Lucius Quintus Curtius, Secretary of the Interior, 181.
Lamont, Daniel S., private secretary to President Cleveland, 181;
Secretary of War, 225.
Lane, Franklin K., Secretary of the Interior, 345.
Lansing, Robert, Secretary of State, 366.
Lansing, Mrs. Robert, her war-time activities, 368.
Lawrence, William, presents impeachment charges to the Senate, 46.
Lee, Alice, her marriage to Roosevelt, 311.
Leiter, Mrs. Levi, gives party in honour of Ethel Roosevelt, 310.
Lemly, Samuel C., Judge-Advocate in Santiago Court of Inquiry, 262.
Leo XIII, receives felicitations from President Cleveland, 193.
Li Hung Chang, is received by President Cleveland, 238.
Lincoln, Robert Todd, denies escape of John Wilkes Booth, 13;
Secretary of War, 135, 156.
Lockwood, Mrs. Belva Ann, is nominated for Presidency, 175, 176;
her career as lawyer and peace apostle, 176.
Lockwood, Mrs. Mary, protests against women’s exclusion from Sons of
the American Revolution, 211.
Lockwood, Mary S., a resident of Washington, 196.
Lodge, Senator Henry Cabot, at Taft’s inauguration, 319;
at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Loeb, William, sees Roosevelt off after Taft’s inauguration, 315.
Logan, Major-General John A., in the Grand Review, 19;
presents impeachment charges to the Senate, 46;
at Grant’s second inauguration, 78;
is nominated for Vice Presidency, 175.
Logan, Mary S., a resident of Washington, 196.
Longworth, Nicholas, marries Alice Roosevelt, 308.
Longworth, Mrs. Nicholas, her war-time activities, 369.
Lord, Mrs., her death, 213.
Lorimer, Mrs. George Horace, her letter from Mrs. Coolidge, 415.
Lynch, John R., temporary chairman of Republican National
Convention, 175.
M’Comb, Henry S., quarrels with Oakes Ames, 87.
McAdoo, William G., Secretary of the Treasury, 345;
marriage to Eleanor Wilson, 352.
McAdoo, Mrs. William G., her war-time activities, 369.
McCabe, Professor L. D., officiates at Rutherford B. Hayes’s
wedding, 107.
McCardle, Eliza, marries Andrew Johnson, 29.
McCrary, G. W., Secretary of War, 106.
McCulloch, Mrs. Hugh, signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
McElroy, Mrs. Mary Arthur, acts as hostess for President Arthur, 154;
leaves Washington, 164;
institutes formal White House supper, 334.
McKee, Mary Dodge, christened at the White House, 207.
McKee, Mrs. James Robert, assists Mrs. Benjamin Harrison, 211.
McKinley, William, takes oath of office, 243;
his history, 247 _et seq._;
campaigns for Harrison, 253;
is nominated on first ballot, 253;
tries to avert war with Spain, 255;
his Philippine policy, 257;
is renominated, 263;
re-elected, 264;
is shot by an anarchist, 267;
his death, 269;
tribute of Mark Hanna, 269;
appoints Roosevelt Assistant Secretary of the Navy, 312.
McKinley, Mrs. William, at McKinley’s inauguration, 243;
at inaugural ball, 246;
has premonition of her husband’s death, 255;
at her husband’s bedside, 268;
her death, 276.
McLean, John R., fails to secure vice presidential nomination, 254;
host to the Longworths, 309.
McReynolds, James, Attorney General, 345.
MacVeagh, Wayne, Attorney General, 135;
signs announcement of President Garfield’s death, 148.
MacDonald, Sir John, member of Joint High Commission, 66.
_Maine_, the, its fate makes certain the war with Spain, 256.
Manning, Daniel, Secretary of the Treasury, 180.
Marconi, Guglielmo, at the White House, 370.
Marsh, Cabel, shares profits with Secretary Belknap, 98.
Marshall, Thomas R., takes oath of office, 342;
refuses to assume presidential duties, 374;
inducts Coolidge into vice presidency, 379;
“the official diner out,” 411.
Marshall, Mrs. Thomas R., at Woodrow Wilson’s second
inauguration, 364;
her home and official life, 367.
Meade, General George A., in the Grand Review, 19.
Meeker, Ezra, a visitor at the White House, 315.
Melah, steward of the White House, 57.
Mendelssohn Glee Club of New York, at Mrs. Arthur’s funeral, 153.
Mexico, Andrew Johnson threatens Maximilian, 39.
Milburn, John G., host to Mrs. McKinley, 267.
Miles, Sherman, at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 292.
Milholland, Inez, herald for woman suffrage parade, 340.
Miller, Joaquin, a resident of Washington, 195.
Miller, Justice, member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
Miller, George F., presents impeachment charges to the Senate, 46.
Miller, William H. H., Attorney General, 201.
Mills, Clark, instructs Vinnie Ream Hoxie, 137.
Mills, Major General, reports to President Cleveland on Pullman
strike, 235.
Moody, Rev. Granville, prays with Andrew Johnson, 32.
Morris, Mrs. C. V., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Morton, Julius Sterling, Secretary of Agriculture, 225.
Morton, Levi P., is sworn in as Vice President, 199;
his history, 201.
Morton, Governor O., advises Benjamin Harrison regarding the Civil
War, 203.
Morton, Senator Oliver P., member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
Mudd, Samuel, imprisoned, 16.
Murlin, Lemuel H., confers honorary degree on Mrs. Coolidge, 415.
National Civic Federation, works to eliminate Washington’s slums, 349.
_National Republican_, prints John Wilkes Booth’s diary, 14.
Nelson, Justice Samuel, member of Joint High Commission, 66.
Newman, Bishop, at McKinley’s inauguration, 245.
New York _American_, interview with Mrs. Taft, 332.
New York _World_, account of capture and death of John Wilkes
Booth, 4 _et seq._;
account of Mike Donovan’s interview with President Roosevelt, 287.
Nicolay, Helen, describes Mrs. Cleveland’s receptions, 239;
describes a Roosevelt luncheon at the White House, 299.
Nilsson, Christine, is entertained by President Arthur, 159.
Noble, John W., Secretary of the Interior, 201.
Northcote, Sir Stafford, member of Joint High Commission, 66.
Oklahoma, is opened by President Harrison’s proclamation, 218.
O’Laughlin, Michael, imprisoned, 16.
Olney, Richard, Attorney General, 225.
O’Rorke, Mother Superior, receives letter from Cleveland, 173.
Palmer, John M., is nominated for the presidency, 254.
Pan-American Exposition, is attended by President McKinley, 266.
Panic of 1873, its causes, 88.
Parker, Judge Alton B., his campaign charges, 291.
Patterson, James W., is threatened with expulsion from the Senate, 84.
Patterson, Mrs. David, acts as hostess for Mrs. Andrew
Johnson, 34, 35;
is proud of her dairy, 35.
Payne, Harry B., member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
Payne, Lewis, executed, 16.
Pendleton, Senator and Mrs., give reception for Mrs. McElroy, 164.
Pezet, Minister and Mme., present rug to President Wilson, 346.
Philippine Islands, significance of their acquisition, 257.
Pierpoint, Francis H., appointed Governor of Virginia, 37.
Platt, Emily, her marriage, 120.
Platt, Senator Thomas C., resigns in protest, 135
Poland, Mr., chairman of House committee to investigate Crédit
Mobilier charges, 88.
Poland, Mrs. Luke E., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Poore, Ben Perley, account of trial of Lincoln assassination
conspirators, 16;
describes attempt to corner the gold market, 72;
recounts history of the Crédit Mobilier, 84 _et seq._;
describes decision of Electoral Commission, 110.
Porter, Secretary, at McKinley’s inauguration, 243.
Potomac Park, Washington, its beauty largely due to Mrs. Taft, 337.
Presidential Succession Act, its provisions, 183.
Prince Arthur, of England, is entertained at the White House, 58, 60.
Proctor, Redfield, Secretary of War, 201.
Prohibition convention, nominates candidates for presidency and vice
presidency, 175.
Pullman strike, is broken by President Cleveland’s action, 235.
Randall, Samuel J., withdraws in favour of Cleveland’s
nomination, 175.
Randall, Mrs. Samuel J., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Rankin, Miss, member of Congress, 379.
Rankin, Mrs., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Rawlins, General John A., at Grant’s inauguration, 51;
Secretary of War, 54.
Redfield, William C., Secretary of Commerce, 345.
Robertson, Alice, is elected to Congress, 379.
Robertson, W. H., Collector of the Port of New York, 135.
Rockwell, Colonel, rehabilitates White House, 155.
Rogers, W. K., private secretary to President Hayes, 126.
Rollins, Samuel G., present when Chester A. Arthur takes oath of
office, 149.
Roosevelt, Alice, is introduced to society, 279;
christens Prince Henry’s yacht, 286;
is invited to coronation of Edward VII, 307;
her trip to the Far East, 307;
her marriage, 308.
Roosevelt, Ethel, her coming-out party, 309;
Mrs. Levi Leiter’s party in her honour, 310.
Roosevelt, Theodore, appointed Collector of the Port of New York, 152;
in the Spanish-American War, 258;
is nominated for the vice presidency, 263;
takes oath of office, 277;
pledges himself to continue McKinley’s policies, 278;
accident during New England tour, 280;
reception at Sagamore Hill, 281 _et seq._;
his wide range of interests, 285, 289, 298, 301, 305;
is nominated for the presidency, 290;
his plea for “square deal,” 291;
his election, 291;
his inauguration 292;
his history, 310;
leaves Washington, 315;
his year abroad, 316;
trip to South America, 317;
his death, 317;
at Taft’s inauguration, 319.
Roosevelt, Mrs. Theodore, avoids handshaking, 279;
fears her husband’s assassination, 282;
at inaugural ball, 295;
as White House hostess 297 _et seq._
Root, Elihu, present when Chester A. Arthur takes oath of office, 149;
pays tribute to President Arthur, 169;
at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Rose, Sir John, supports President Grant’s plan for a Joint High
Commission, 66.
Ross, Mrs. Nellie, at Coolidge’s inauguration, 419.
Rudolph, Lucretia, goes to school with James A. Garfield, 131;
marriage, 132.
“Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion,” its unexpected effect, 177.
Rusk, Jeremiah M., Secretary of Agriculture. 201.
St. John, ex-Governor, is nominated for presidency, 175.
Salmond, Sir John, at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Sampson, Mrs., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Sanders, George N., reward offered for his arrest, 3.
Sarrault, Albert, at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Sartoris, Algernon Frederick, marries Nellie Grant, 91.
Satterlee, Bishop, officiates at Alice Roosevelt’s wedding, 308.
Saxton, Ida, her marriage to William McKinley, 251.
Sayre, Francis Bowes, his marriage to Jessie Woodrow Wilson, 346.
Sayre, Rev. John Nevin, at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 347.
Schanzer, Senator, at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Schenck, General Robert C., member of Joint High Commission, 66.
Schofield, General, at President Cleveland’s second inaugural
ball, 223.
Schurz, Carl, Secretary of the Interior, 106.
Scott, Adeline Mitchell, at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 346.
Scott, Caroline Lavinia, becomes engaged to Benjamin Harrison, 202;
her marriage, 203.
Scott, Dr. John W. H., his death, 217.
Scott, Rev. Dr., Christens Mary Dodge McKee, 207.
Scott, Mrs., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Selby, James J., offers reward for return of Andrew Johnson, 28.
Sewall, Arthur, is nominated for the vice presidency, 254.
Seward, William H., vainly seeks unbiassed hearing for Andrew
Johnson’s reconstruction policy, 40;
abused for purchase of Alaska, 47.
Shepherd, Alexander R., Governor of District of Columbia, 56;
chairman of Public Works, City of Washington, 56.
Sherman, John, Secretary of the Treasury, 106;
requests Chester A. Arthur’s resignation, 152.
Sherman, General William T., in the Grand Review, 20;
receives appeal for fair electoral count, 109.
Sherman, General, arranges parade at Garfield’s inauguration, 129.
Sherman, James Schoolcraft, is sworn in as Vice President, 319.
Sherman, Mrs. James S., at Taft’s inauguration, 319;
at Taft inaugural ball, 323.
Sherman, Mrs. W. T., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Sherman, Mrs., signs anti-suffrage petition, 71.
Slocum, Major General Henry D., in the Grand Review, 19.
Smith, Eli, comes from Alaska to Washington by dog-sled, 315.
Smith, Hoke, Secretary of the Interior, 225.
Smith, Rev. Herbert Scott, officiates at Woodrow Wilson’s second
wedding, 355.
Sons of the American Revolution, excludes women from membership, 211.
Sousa, John Philip, directs Marine Band at President Cleveland’s
inaugural ball, 174.
Southworth, Mrs. E. D. E. N., a resident of Washington, 195.
Spangler, Edward, imprisoned, 16.
Sprague, Mrs. Kate Chase, is divorced, 82.
“Stalwarts,” oppose President Hayes’s policy toward the South, 127.
Stanbury, Henry, resigns as Attorney General to defend Andrew
Johnson, 46.
Stanton, Edwin M., his description of Andrew Johnson, 2, 43;
offers reward for arrest of Lincoln’s assassins, 4;
commits Booth’s body to Colonel Baker, 12;
completes preparations for the Grand Review, 18;
refuses to resign, 44;
Justice of the Supreme Court, 54;
mystery surrounding his death, 54.
Stanton, Elizabeth Cady, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69.
Star Route contractors, are acquitted, 166.
Stewart, A. T., his nomination as Secretary of the Treasury objected
to, 53.
Stevens, Thaddeus, attacks Andrew Johnson’s reconstruction policy, 40;
presents impeachment charges to the Senate, 46.
Stevenson, Adlai, is nominated for vice presidency in 1900, 264.
Stevenson, Mrs. A. E., at President Cleveland’s second inaugural
ball, 223.
Stover, Mrs., acts as hostess for Mrs. Andrew Johnson, 34.
Straight, Mrs. Willard, daughter of Secretary Whitney, 185.
Strong, Justice, member of the Electoral Commission, 110.
Stuart, Ellen Douglass, her portraits of Judge and Mrs. William H.
Bolling, 356.
Sumner, Charles, his State Suicide theory, 40;
objects to A. T. Stewart’s nomination for the Treasury, 53;
is removed as Chairman of the Senate Committee on Foreign
Relations, 68.
Sunderland, Rev. Byron, calls on Rose Cleveland, 182;
officiates at President Cleveland’s wedding, 189.
Surratt, John, evades capture for two years, 18;
released after civil court trial, 18;
his case dismissed, 48.
Surratt, Mrs. Mary E., executed, 16;
unsuccessful efforts in her behalf, 16.
Swaim, Adjutant General, prepares Garfield Memorial Fair, 161.
Taft, Helen, at Bryn Mawr, 335.
Taft, William H., president of Philippine commission, 257;
takes oath of office, 319;
at inaugural ball, 322;
Governor General of the Philippines, 326 _et seq._;
at Wilson’s inauguration, 342;
administers oath to Coolidge, 419.
Taft, Mrs. William H., at inauguration, 319;
at inaugural ball, 322;
believes in higher education for women, 323;
her history, 324;
favors suffrage but not office-holding for women, 329;
as White House hostess, 332 _et seq._;
institutes informal White House supper, 334;
accepts cherry trees for Potomac Park, 338;
writes autobiography, 339.
Takamine, Dr. Jakichi, obtains cherry trees for Potomac Park, 338.
Tammany Hall, uses “Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion,” 177;
is antagonized by President Cleveland’s independence, 206.
Tariff, is the vital issue, in the 1888 election, 205.
Taylor, Lieutenant, at Mrs. Harding’s reception, 388.
Taylor, Rev. James H., officiates at Woodrow Wilson’s second
wedding, 355.
“Tea Table Cabinet,” its members, 106.
Tenterden, Lord, banquet in his honour, 67.
Thomas, General B. Lorenzo, Secretary of War _ad interim_, 45.
Thompson, Jacob, reward offered for his arrest, 3.
Thompson, Richard W., Secretary of the Navy, 106.
Thornton, Sir Edward, member of Joint High Commission, 66.
Thurman, Senator Allen G., member of the Electoral Commission, 110;
is nominated for vice presidency, 205.
Tiffany, Dr. O. H., officiates at Nellie Grant’s wedding, 92.
Tilden, Samuel J., attorney for Union Pacific Railway, 85;
quickly nominated, 108.
Titus, Calvin P., at Roosevelt’s inauguration, 293.
Tokugawa, Prince, at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Townsend, George Alfred, account of capture and death of John Wilkes
Booth, 4 _et seq._
Townsend, Rachel Moore, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69.
Tracy, Benjamin F., Secretary of the Navy, 201.
Tracy, Mrs. Benjamin F., her death, 213.
Tucker, Beverly, reward offered for his arrest, 3.
Tumulty, Josephy P., at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 347;
at Harding’s inauguration, 378.
Udine, Prince, at the White House, 370.
Underwood, G. Pearce, at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Vanderbilt, William H., restores General Grant’s swords to
Mrs. Grant, 167.
Vesnitch, M., at the White House, 370.
Victoria, Queen, sends message of congratulation to President
Cleveland, 190.
Vilas, Mr., Postmaster General, 181.
Villard Excursion party, is joined by President Arthur, 165.
Viviani, René, at the White House, 370;
at Washington disarmament conference, 399.
Wade, Senator Ben, obtains Stanton’s appointment as Justice of the
Supreme Court, 54.
Waite, Morrison R., American counsel before Geneva arbitration
tribunal, 68;
administers oath to President-elect Hayes, 105;
administers oath to President-elect Garfield, 129;
administers oath to Chester A. Arthur, 149;
administers oath to Cleveland, 171.
Walker, Dr. Mary E., at President Arthur’s reception, 157;
her history, 157.
Wallace, Henry C., Secretary of Agriculture, 379.
Walworth, Mrs. Ellen Hardin, helps found the Daughters of the
American Revolution, 211.
Wanamaker, John, Postmaster General, 201;
gives farewell reception for President Harrison, 224.
Washburne, Elihu B., Secretary of State, 53;
Minister to France, 53.
Washington, Booker T., is invited to luncheon at the White House, 299.
Washington, City of, offers reward for arrest of Lincoln’s
assassins, 4;
condition in 1865, 18;
condition after the Civil War, 55;
is improved by President Grant, 56;
the lap-dog craze, 163;
at Cleveland’s inauguration, 170 _et seq._;
home of many authors, 195;
at Benjamin Harrison’s inauguration, 198 _et seq._;
blizzard at Taft’s inauguration, 320;
during the World War, 366.
Washington, Eugenia, helps found the Daughters of the American
Revolution, 211.
Washington disarmament conference, its members, 399-400
Washington Monument, construction resumed, 126;
is completed and dedicated, 168.
Washington _Star_, description of Centennial Tea Party, 94.
Watson, Thomas E., is nominated for the vice presidency, 254.
Watterson, Colonel Henry, temporary chairman of Democratic National
Convention, 108.
Webb, Miss Lucy, her marriage to Rutherford B. Hayes, 107.
Weeks, John W., Secretary of War, 379.
West, A. M., is nominated for vice presidency, 175.
Whisky Ring, its history, 95 _et seq._
White, Chief Justice Edward D., administers oath to Woodrow
Wilson, 342;
administers oath to Warren G. Harding, 379.
White, Mary G., at Jessie Woodrow Wilson’s wedding, 346.
White House, changes made by President Arthur, 155;
is rid of rats, 207;
its first Christmas tree, 212;
is enlarged and renovated by President Roosevelt, 280;
condition during the Great War, 366, 371.
Whitney, William C., Secretary of the Navy, 181;
his home life, 184.
Wilbour, Charlotte, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69.
Wiley, Judge Andrew, signs writ of habeas corpus for Mrs. Surratt’s
release, 17.
Williams, General George H., member of Joint High Commission, 66.
Williams, William, presents impeachment charges to the Senate, 46.
Wilson, Eleanor R., at her sister’s wedding, 346;
her marriage to William G. McAdoo, 352.
Wilson, Henry, advises President Grant to forgive opponents, 75.
Wilson, James F., presents impeachment charges to the Senate, 46.
Wilson, Jessie Woodrow, her marriage to Francis B. Sayre, 346.
Wilson, Joseph, gives dinner in honour of President-elect Wilson, 340.
Wilson, Colonel J. M., meets Princess Eulalie, 230.
Wilson, Margaret, at her sister’s wedding, 346, 347;
sings at library of the blind, 350.
Wilson, Woodrow, his inauguration, 342 _et seq._;
is opposed to inaugural ball, 343;
his disregard of precedent, 344, 364, 372, 376;
his love of children, 345;
marriage to Mrs. Galt, 354;
estimated cost of honeymoon, 357;
is elated at report of Hughes’s election, 360;
problems of his first Administration, 361;
declares against neutrality, 363;
his second inauguration, 364 _et seq._;
proclaims war with Germany, 366;
loses power to relax, 370;
his first trip to Europe, 372;
his second trip, 373;
his tour of the country, 373;
his illness, 374;
at Harding’s inauguration, 375, 378;
his faith in his principles, 377;
his death, 377.
Wilson, Mrs. Woodrow, as White House hostess, 348;
studies painting, 349;
works to eliminate Washington’s slums, 349;
procures rest rooms for government employees, 351;
her death, 353.
Wilson, Mrs. Woodrow Galt, at President Wilson’s second
inauguration, 364;
her war-time activities, 366, 371;
accompanies President Wilson abroad, 372;
on his tour of the country, 373;
during his illness, 374;
at Harding’s inauguration, 378.
Wilson, William, Secretary of Labour, 345.
Windom, William, Secretary of the Treasury in Garfield’s Cabinet, 135;
signs announcement of President Garfield’s death, 148;
Secretary of the Treasury in Harrison’s Cabinet, 201.
Winter, Mrs. Thomas G., member of advisory council, Washington
disarmament conference, 400.
Winthrop, Robert, delivers oration at dedication of Washington
Monument, 168.
Woman’s Equal Rights Party, nominates Mrs. Lockwood for
Presidency, 175.
Woman Suffragists, convention of 1871, 69;
present petition to Congress, 70;
1913 parade, 340 _et seq._
Wood, General Leonard, engages in exercises with President
Roosevelt, 289.
Wood, Sarah, engagement to Andrew Johnson broken, 29.
Woodell, Mrs. William C. H., loans President Washington’s chair for
Grant’s second inauguration, 78.
Woodhull, Victoria, at 1871 woman suffrage convention, 69;
nominated for President, 69;
abandons politics, 70;
presents memorial to Congress, 70.
Woodruff, Henry H., describes McKinley as a soldier, 248.
World’s Columbian Exposition, is opened by President Cleveland, 226.
Yale class of 1878, dinner in honour of President Taft, 321.
Yorihato Komatsu, Prince, is received by President Cleveland, 233.
Yoshida, Madame, discards Japanese dress for American garments, 116.
Transcriber's Notes:
The line on page 45 that reads "Johnson let the matter rest
until February 21, 1863," is inaccurate as Lincoln was president on
that date.
The death of Mrs Hayes on page 125 has been corrected from June 25,
1880 to June 25, 1889.
Italics are shown thus: _sloping_.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.
Perceived typographical errors have been changed.
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