"From what I hear, I think Mr. Chase is about one hundred and fifty to any other man's hundred."
On the Saturday next but one, preceding the 4th of March, we called upon Mr. Buchanan at about eleven o'clock in the morning. He said that he should prefer to see us in the evening. In the evening we found him alone. He at once commenced conversation, which he continued with but slight interruptions on our part. His chief thought seemed to be to avert bloodshed during his administration. Next, he thought he had been wronged by both sections. Said he:
"When I rebuked the North for their personal-liberty bills, the South applauded; but when I condemned the secession movement, then they turned against me."
He referred to the Charleston Mercury as having been very unjust, and then putting his feet together, and with his head on one shoulder, he said:
"I am like a man on a narrow isthmus, without a friend on either side."
Within a few days of this interview, we called upon General Cass, who was then living in a house that is now annexed to the Arlington Hotel. He had retired from the Cabinet of Mr. Buchanan, and he had regained something of his standing in the North, but he had been so long the advocate of compromises and the servant of the slave power, that he was unable to place himself in line with the movement that was destined to destroy slavery. The slave power had more vitality than slavery itself; and after a third of a century its poison still disturbs the politics of the country. The call was made in the forenoon. General Cass sat at a small, plain table, engaged in writing. He was in a large room, from which the furniture, including the carpets, had been removed. He said that he had been kept in Washington by the illness of his daughter, and that upon her improvement he should leave for Michigan. He was dressed in a much worn suit of black—his shirt had seen more than one day's service—he had not been shaved recently, and his russet-colored wig was on awry. The room had an aspect of desolation, and General Cass appeared like a man to whom life had nothing of interest. As soon as the ceremony of introduction was over, he commenced walking and talking, while the tears ran down his wan and worn cheeks. He gave us an account of his early life, of his residence in Virginia, and then he said:
"I crossed the Ohio with only a dollar in my pocket. I went to Michigan. I was four times Governor of the Territory, and on more than one occasion I was confirmed by the Senate without a single dissenting vote. I have been a Senator, and Minister to France; and I am going home to Michigan to die. If I wanted the office of constable, there isn't a town in the State that would elect me."
He reminded me of Cardinal Wolsey, rather than of the Senator, Minister to France, and Secretary of the Department of State that he had been. He spoke of his course in politics, the substance of which was that he had always opposed secession and nullification, although he had maintained the right of the States to hold slaves if they chose to tolerate the institution.
General Cass was the last of the statesmen of the middle period of our history whom it was my fortune to meet. As a whole, and as individuals their fortunes were unenviable. They struggled against the order of things. They accomplished nothing, unless it may be said of them, that they kept the ship afloat. Their memories deserve commiseration, possibly gratitude. No effort of theirs could have secured the abolition of slavery. Any vigorous movement in that direction would have ended in the destruction of the government. From John Adams to Lincoln, only three important measures remain: The acquisition of Louisiana, the acquisition of California, and the Independent Treasury Bill. The war of 1812 was unwise, and in conduct it was weak. The policy of that middle period in regard to paper money, to internal improvements, in regard to the protection of domestic industry, and in regard to slavery has been set aside or overthrown by the better judgment of recent years. Yet so much are statesmen and parties the servants or victims of events, that our opinions should be tolerant of the men who kept the system in motion. Slavery was an inheritance, and time was required for its destruction.
I returned to Massachusetts without waiting for the inauguration.