CHAPTER XIX. HARRISON'S ONE MONTH OF POWER.
Government officials at Washington, nearly all of whom had received their positions as rewards for political services, and many of whom had displaced worthy men whose only fault was that they belonged to a different party, were somewhat encouraged by the declarations of President Harrison touching the position of office-holders. It was known from a speech of his at Baltimore, prior to his inauguration, that he intended to protect the right of individual opinion from official interference, and in a few days after he became President his celebrated civil-service circular was issued by Daniel Webster, as Secretary of State. It was addressed to the heads of the Executive Departments, and it commenced thus:
"SIR:—The President is of the opinion that it is a great abuse to bring the patronage of the General Government into conflict with the freedom of elections; and that this abuse ought to be corrected wherever it may have been permitted to exist, and to be prevented for the future."
It would have been fortunate for the country if these views of President Harrison, so clearly stated by Daniel Webster in this circular, could have been honestly carried out; but the horde of hungry politicians that had congregated at Washington, with racoon- tails in their hats and packages of recommendations in their pockets, clamored for the wholesale action of the political guillotine, that they might fill the vacancies thereby created. Whigs and Federalists, National Republicans and strict constructionists, bank and anti- bank men had coalesced under the motto of "Union of the Whigs for the Whigs for the sake of the Union," but they had really united "for the sake of office." The Administration found itself forced to make removals that places might be found for this hungry horde, and to disregard its high position on civil service. Virginia was especially clamorous for places, and Vice-President Tyler became the champion of hundreds who belonged to the first families, but who were impecunious.
Direct conflict soon arose between the President and his Cabinet, he asserting his right to make appointments and removals, while they took the ground that it was simply his duty to take such action as they chose to dictate. The Cabinet were sustained by the opinion of Attorney-General John C. Crittenden, and they also under his advice claimed the right to review the President's nominations before they were sent to the Senate. To the President, who had as Governor and as General been in the habit of exercising autocratic command, these attempts to hamper his action were very annoying, and at times he "kicked over the traces."
One day, after a rather stormy Cabinet meeting, Mr. Webster asked the President to appoint one of his political supporters, General James Wilson, of New Hampshire, Governor of the Territory of Iowa. President Harrison replied that it would give him pleasure to do so had he not promised the place to Colonel John Chambers, of Kentucky, his former aid-de-camp, who had been acting as his private secretary. The next day Colonel Chambers had occasion to visit the Department of State, and Mr. Webster asked him if the President had offered to appoint him Governor of Iowa. "Yes, sir," was the reply. "Well, sir," said Mr. Webster with sour sternness, a cloud gathering on his massive brow, while his unfathomable eyes glowed with anger, "you must not take that position, for I have promised it to my friend, General Wilson." Colonel Chambers, who had been a member of Congress, and was older than Mr. Webster, was not intimidated, but replied, "Mr. Webster, I shall accept the place, and I tell you, sir, not to undertake to dragoon me!" He then left the room, and not long afterward Mr. Webster received from the President a peremptory order to commission John Chambers, of Kentucky, as Governor of the Territory of Iowa, which was complied with.
Mr. Clay undertook to insist upon some removals, that personal friends of his might be appointed to the offices thus vacated, and he used such dictatorial language that after he had left the White House President Harrison wrote him a formal note, requesting that he would make any further suggestions he might desire to submit in writing. Mr. Clay was very much annoyed, and Mr. King, of Alabama, making some remarks in the Senate soon afterward which might be construed as personally offensive, the great Commoner opened his batteries upon him, saying in conclusion that the assertions of the Senator from Alabama were "false, untrue, and cowardly."
Mr. King immediately rose and left the Senate Chamber. Mr. Levin, of Missouri, was called out, and soon returned, bringing a note, which he handed to Mr. Clay, who read it, and then handed it to Mr. Archer. Messrs. Levin and Archer immediately engaged in an earnest conversation, and it was soon known that a challenge had passed, and they as seconds were endeavoring amicably to arrange the affair. After four days of negotiation, Mr. Preston, of South Carolina, and other Senators, acting as mediators, the affair was honorably adjusted. Mr. King withdrew his challenge, Mr. Clay declared every epithet derogatory to the honor of the Senator from Alabama to be withdrawn, and Mr. Preston expressed his satisfaction at the happy termination of the misunderstanding between the Senators. While Mr. Preston was speaking Mr. Clay rose, walked to the opposite side of the Senate Chamber, and stopping in front of the desk of the Senator from Alabama, said, in a pleasant tone, "King, give us a pinch of your snuff?" Mr. King, springing to his feet, held out his hand, which was grasped by Mr. Clay and cordially shaken, the Senators and spectators applauding the pacific demonstration.
The leading Washington correspondent at that time was Dr. Francis Bacon, brother of the Rev. Dr. Leonard Bacon, of New Haven, Connecticut. He wrote for the New York American, then edited by Charles King, signing his articles R. M. T. H.—Regular Member Third House. Dr. Bacon wielded a powerful pen, and when he chose so to do could condense a column of denunciation, satire, and sarcasm in to a single paragraph. He was a fine scholar, fearless censor, and terse writer, giving his many readers a clear idea of what was transpiring at the Federal metropolis.
A new-comer among the correspondents during the Harrison Administration was Mr. Nathan Sargent, whose correspondence to the Philadelphia United States Gazette, over the signature of "Oliver Oldschool," soon became noted. His carefully written letters gave a continuous narrative of important events as they occurred, and he was one who aided in making the Whig party, like the Federal party, which had preceded it, eminently respectable.
Washington correspondents, up to this time, had been the mediums through which a large portion of the citizens of the United States obtained their information concerning national affairs. The only reports of the debates in Congress appeared in the Washington newspapers often several weeks after their delivery. James Gordon Bennett, who had then become proprietor of the New York Herald, after publishing President Harrison's call for an extra session of Congress in advance of his contemporaries, determined to have the proceedings and debates reported for and promptly published in his own columns. To superintend the reporting, he engaged Robert Sutton, who organized a corps of phonographers, which was the nucleus of the present able body of official reporters of the debates. Sutton was a short, stout, pragmatical Englishman, whose desire to obtain extra allowances prompted him to revise, correct, and polish up reports which should have been verbatim, and thus to take the initiative in depriving official reports of debates of a large share of their value. Since then, Senators and Representatives address their constituents through the reports, instead of debating questions among themselves.
The diplomatic representative of Great Britain, during the greater part of the Jackson Administration, was the Right Honorable Charles Richard Vaughan, who was a great favorite among Congressmen and citizens at Washington, many of whom were his guests at the Decatur Mansion, then the British Legation. He was a well-educated and well-informed gentleman, with the courteous manners of the old school. When recalled after ten years' service at Washington, he was a jovial bachelor of fifty, fond of old Madeira wine and a quiet rubber of whist.
A good story is told of General Roger Weightman, when Mayor of the city, who sent by mistake an invitation to Sir Charles Vaughan to attend a Fourth-of-July dinner, at which speeches were invariably made abusive of the British and their Vandalism in the recent war. Sir Charles, who was a finished diplomat, might have construed the invitation into an insult, but he wrote a very polite response, saying that he thought he should be "indisposed" on the Fourth of July.
Russia was then represented by the Baron de Krudener, who resided in a large house built by Thomas Swann, a wealthy Baltimorean. Amicable relations with "our ancient ally," France, had been interrupted by the brusque demand of General Jackson for the payment of the indemnity. Monsieur Serruvier was recalled, leaving the Legation in charge of Alphonso Pageot, the Secretary. He also was recalled, but after the Jackson Administration was sent back as Chargè.
It was expected that the session of the Twenty-sixth Congress, which terminated on the day of the inauguration of General Harrison, would have been followed by a duel between Mr. Edward Stanley, of North Carolina, and Mr. Francis W. Pickens, of South Carolina. Mr. Stanley had been criticised in debate by Mr. Pickens, and he retorted mercilessly. "The gentleman," said he, "compares my speech to the attempt of a 'savage shooting at the sun.' It may be so, sir. But the Committee will remember that in the remarks I made I did not address myself to the gentleman who has so unnecessarily interposed in this debate. And why did I not, sir? Not because I thought I should be as powerless as he describes me, but because I had seen him so often so unmercifully kicked and cuffed and knocked about, so often run over on this floor, that I thought he was beneath my notice, and utterly insignificant. Sir, the gentleman says he is reminded by my speech of the 'nursery rhyme,'
'Who shot Cock Robin?
"I," said the Sparrow,
"With my bow and arrow,
I shot Cock Robin."'
Well, sir, I am willing to be the sparrow for this cock robin, this chivalrous gentleman; and let me tell the gentleman, if he will not deem me vain, I feel fully able, with my bow and arrow, to run through a 'cowpen full' of such cock robins as he is. In conclusion, I have only to say, sir, to the gentleman from South Carolina, that though my arm may be 'pigmy,' though I may be but a sparrow in the estimation of one 'born insensible to fear,' I am able, sir, anywhere, as a sparrow from North Carolina, to put down a dozen such cock robins as he is. 'Come one, come all,' ye South Carolina cock robins, if you dare; I am ready for you." Mr. Pickens wrote a challenge, but friends interposed, and the difficulty was honorably arranged.
When Mr. Webster became Secretary of State, under President Harrison, his friends in Boston and New York raised a purse to enable him to purchase the Swann House, facing Lafayette Square. Mr. Webster preferred, however, to purchase land at Marshfield, and after he had occupied the house during the negotiations of the Ashburton Treaty, the property passed into the hands of Mr. W. W. Corcoran, who has since resided there.
Mr. Webster was his own purveyor, and was a regular attendant at the Marsh Market on market mornings. He almost invariably wore a large, broad-brimmed, soft felt hat, with his favorite blue coat and bright buttons, a buff cassimere waistcoat, and black trousers. Going from stall to stall, followed by a servant bearing a large basket in which purchases were carried home, he would joke with the butchers, fish-mongers, and green-grocers with a grave drollery of which his biographers, in their anxiety to deify him, have made no mention. He always liked to have a friend of two at his dinner- table, and in inviting them, sans ceremonie, he would say, in his deep, cheery voice, "Come and dine with me to-morrow. I purchased a noble saddle of Valley of Virginia mutton in market last week, and I think you will enjoy it." Or, "I received some fine cod-fish from Boston to-day, sir; will you dine with me at five o'clock and taste them?" Or, "I found a famous possum in market this morning, sir, and left orders with Monica, my cook, to have it baked in the real old Virginia style, with stuffing of chestnuts and surrounded by baked sweet potatoes. It will be a dish fit for the gods. Come and taste it."
President Harrison, who was an early riser, used to go to market, and he invariably refused to wear an overcoat, although the spring was cold and stormy. One morning, having gone to the market thus thinly attired, he was overtaken by a slight shower and got wet, but refused to change his clothes. The following day he felt symptoms of indisposition, which were followed by pneumonia. At his Ohio home he had lived plainly and enjoyed sleep, but at Washington he had, while rising early, rarely retired before one o'clock in the morning, and his physical powers, enfeebled by age, had been overtaxed. At the same time, the President's mental powers had undergone a severe strain, as was evident when he became somewhat delirious. Sometimes he would say, "My dear madam, I did not direct that your husband should be turned out. I did not know it. I tried to prevent it." On other occasions he would say, in broken sentences, "It is wrong—I won't consent—'tis unjust!" "These applications—will they never cease!" The last time that he spoke was about three hours before his death, when his physicians and attendants were standing over him. Clearing his throat, as if desiring to speak audibly, and as though he fancied himself addressing his successor, or some official associate in the Government, he said: "Sir, I wish you to understand the true principles of the Government. I wish them carried out. I ask nothing more."
"One little month" after President Harrison's inauguration multitudes again assembled to attend his funeral. Minute-guns were fired during the day, flags were displayed at half staff, and Washington was crowded with strangers at an early hour. The buildings of either side of Pennsylvania Avenue, with scarcely an exception, and many houses on the contiguous streets, were hung with festoons and streamers of black. Almost every private dwelling had crape upon its door, and many of the very humblest abodes displayed some spontaneous signal of the general sorrow. The stores and places of business, even such as were too frequently seen open on the Sabbath, were all closed.
Funeral services were performed in the Executive Mansion, which, for the first time, was shrouded in mourning. The coffin rested on a temporary catafalque in the centre of the East Room. It was covered with black velvet, trimmed with gold lace, and over it was thrown a velvet pall with a deep golden fringe. On this lay the sword of Justice and the sword of State, surmounted by the scroll of the Constitution, bound together by a funeral wreath, formed of the yew and the cypress. Around the coffin stood in a circle the new President, John Tyler, the venerable ex-President, John Quincy Adams, Secretary Webster, and the other members of the Cabinet. The next circle contained the Diplomatic Corps, in their richly decorated court-suits, with a number of members of both houses of Congress, and the relatives of the deceased President. Beyond this circle a vast assemblage of ladies and gentlemen filled up the room. Silence, deep and undisturbed, even by a whisper, prevailed. When, at the appointed hour, the officiating clergyman said, "I am the resurrection and the life," the entire audience rose, and joined in the burial service of the Episcopalian Church.
After the services the coffin was carried to a large funeral car drawn by six white horses, each having at its head a black groom dressed in white, with white turban and sash. Outside of the grooms walked the pall-bearers, dressed in black, with black scarves. The contrast made by this slowly moving body of white and black, so opposite to the strong colors of the military around it, struck the eye even from the greatest distance.
The funeral procession, with its military escort, was two miles in length, and eclipsed the inauguration pageant which had so recently preceded it. The remains were escorted to the Congressional Burying- Ground, where they were temporarily deposited in the receiving- vault, to be taken subsequently to the banks of the Ohio, and there placed in an unmarked and neglected grave. The troops present all fired their volleys in such a ludicrously straggling manner as to recall the dying request of Robert Burns that the awkward squad might not fire over his grave. Then the drums and fifes struck up merry strains, the military marched away, and only the scene of the public bereavement remained.
[Facsimile] T. Ewing THOMAS EWING was born near West Liberty, Virginia, December 28th, 1779; was United States Senator from Ohio, December 5th, 1831, to March 3d, 1837; was Secretary of the Treasury under President Harrison, March 5th, 1841, to September 13th, 1841; was Secretary of the Interior under President Taylor, March 7th, 1849, to July 25th, 1850; was again Senator from Ohio, July 27th, 1850, to March 3d, 1851, and died at Lancaster, Ohio, October 26th, 1871.