“My party associates here have twice conferred upon me the highest honor in their power to bestow and have given me generous and constant proofs of their hearty good will, and I can look back over the last four years and through the heated debates and exciting contests without being able to call to mind a single word or act on the part of any Republican senator indicating the slightest ill will.
“So, Mr. President, my chief, if not my only regret, in leaving this distinguished company is because it involves a separation from friends who have grown very dear to me. These friends, thank God, are on both sides of the center aisle; and the memory of these friendships will cheer and comfort me during the remaining years of my life.
“Mr. President, every man who engages in political or other contests hopes for success, and defeat under any circumstances is usually attended by feelings of disappointment if not humiliation; but the man who is not prepared to accept defeat with apparent cheerfulness and in a manly way would do well to avoid the arenas of political conflict.
“In my case the sting of defeat in the late election was greatly mitigated by the fact that my successful opponent is my neighbor, and more than a third of a century has been my warm personal friend; so that my pride in his promotion largely compensates for the natural regret at my own defeat. I stated after the election and repeat it in this presence, that if I had been permitted or required to choose a Republican successor I would, without hesitation, have named the Hon. Harry S. New. He is a splendid gentleman, a high-minded, patriotic American citizen who will wear the robes of office with modesty and dignity. It is a matter of very great satisfaction to me to know that the splendid commonwealth of Indiana will be represented by two of her native sons, who, I am sure, will serve their state and country with honor and distinction.
“In conclusion permit me to repeat that I shall leave here happy that I shall be free from burdens often onerous and oppressive, rich in the friendship of my fellow senators, which I shall always cherish as among my dearest possessions, sorrowing only because the companionships which have given me so much delight and so many hours of happiness must be severed.
“May God bless you, every one.”
Because of the sincerity with which he spoke, and the personal affection felt for him by the majority of senators of both parties he struck a chord which responded instantly when Senator Henry Cabot Lodge of Massachusetts rose on the Republican side of the center aisle. Nothing could have given greater pleasure to Senator Kern. While differing widely on most public questions of a political nature, the Massachusetts senator being a conservative Republican and Kern a radical Democrat, there was much in the character and career of the brilliant historian, orator and statesman that made a strong appeal to the Indiana senator. Aside from a personal fondness for the Republican leader, a profound admiration for his gifts, the career of Lodge in its continuity and security appealed to Kern as the ideal one for a public man. It was precisely the career he would have liked. This, a little side-light on Kern’s real nature: in the summer of 1915, after reading the last page of Lodge’s “Early Memories,” and expressing the hope that the author would continue his recollections through his congressional career, he laid the book down with the comment:
“I know of no man in public life whose career I envy more than that of Lodge.”
Senator Lodge said:
“Mr. President, among the trials, the cares, the labors, and sometimes the bitterness that public life brings there are rewards. They are neither so many nor so delightful as the outside world may suppose, but there are some very real rewards. One of them, the chiefest, perhaps, is to be found in the friendships and associations which men closely associated together as we are in this chamber are certain to form, but like most happinesses and rewards in this world, they have their inevitable penalty connected with them. The penalty comes in the severance of the friendships, by the partings that must occur. These partings come to us here every two years. They bring sorrow, not the ‘sweet sorrow’ of Shakespeare’s immortal lovers, but a very real sorrow which grows more serious and more grim as the years pass by and age advances.