Life of James Buchanan, Fifteenth President of the United States. v. 2 (of 2)

by George Ticknor Curtis

It surprises me very much to read insinuations to the effect that he was not the President. I knew quite intimately nearly all the members of his cabinet, and heard a good deal of their conversation, and I know with what respect they spoke of him, and that the whole tone of their conversation was that he was the master.

There was a peculiarity of his mind which may possibly account to some extent for this mistaken impression. It very often happened that when some new idea or proposition was suggested to him, he would, at the first blush, entirely disapprove of it, so that any one not well acquainted with him, might think the case was hopeless. When he had time, however, to think about it, and if some one would quietly give him the points of the case, and draw his attention more particularly to it, he would sometimes make up his mind in quite an opposite way from that which he had at first intended. After, however, he had once definitely and positively come to a decision, he was unchangeable. What he considered to be right he did, and no fear of consequences could alter his purpose. And the value of this quality to him will be understood when we remember that after his return home from Washington he did not seem to regret his course while there. I never heard him say that he wished he had acted differently in the troublous times through which he had passed. He knew that the steps he had taken had been with the single earnest aim and desire of preserving the country from disunion and war; and that being the case, his having failed in his endeavor did not trouble his conscience at all. “I acted for some time as a breakwater,” he said, “between the North and the South, both surging with all their force against me.”

I say did not touch his conscience. His heart was greatly distressed. I remember the morning on which the news came of the ships being sent to the relief of Fort Sumter. “I fear Governor Chase is bringing war upon his country,” was his sad exclamation, and from that time until peace was declared, his true and loyal heart grieved over the distress and misery of his country.

I remember an incident early in his administration, which shows his integrity in the matter of his duty. A young man was sentenced to be hung in Washington for murder, who had, for some reason, enlisted great interest for himself among members of his church (Roman Catholic), and not only the mother of the condemned man, but several clergymen and Sisters of Charity, also, waited upon my uncle to importune him for a pardon. My uncle’s feelings were greatly enlisted, and I heard him say that he had gone over the case three times, in order that, if possible, he might find some reason that would make it right to grant a pardon. But finding, as he did at last, that there absolutely was no such reason, he said the law must have its way, and the young man was executed.

Another great characteristic of my uncle was his independence of spirit. He would not be under obligation, for gifts, to any one while he was in office, and in fact he did not like to be so at any time. I remember the ——’s were very anxious to present a grand piano to my cousin, soon after she went to Washington, but my uncle positively declined allowing her to accept it. When the Japanese commissioners came, bringing with them curious and costly gifts, some of which were intended for the President, he sent them all to the Patent Office, as the property of the country. He even went so far as to insist, at all times, upon paying his fare whenever he travelled, never receiving a pass, even when he was out of office. He would have been horrified at the idea of travelling free while he was President. I have often heard him say, “I will pay my way while I can afford it. When I cannot afford to pay I will stay at home.” The salary of the President during my uncle’s administration was $25,000. So far from being made any richer by his office, he was obliged to supplement some of his own private means each year, in order that the becoming hospitality and mode of living might be kept up at the White House.

As long as I can remember my uncle, he was a religious man, becoming more and more so as his life drew near its close. His knowledge of the scriptures was very thorough, and whatever doubts he may have had in his earlier life, had been dissipated by the rays of the Sun of Righteousness. He was, certainly, during the latter years of his life, a strong and firm believer in Jesus Christ as his Saviour. It was his constant habit, after his return from Washington, to read daily in the New Testament, and a large part of Sunday he spent in studying that and books founded upon its teachings. A devotional book, Jay’s Morning and Evening Exercises, was his constant companion, and he read a great deal in the sermons of the great French preacher, Massillon, a French copy of which he had and often quoted. He conversed much about the Gospel and its teachings, and one could easily tell that he was deeply interested in the subject.

It was his practice, during all his life, to attend church on Sunday morning, and some effect of his early teaching, which very strongly inculcated the hallowing of the Lord’s day, was shown when he was in St. Petersburg. It was the custom there for even the most devout, after they had attended service through the day, to go to balls and festivities in the evening of Sunday. My uncle thought that he could not be excused from attending the Emperor’s balls, but made it a rule never to dance on Sunday evening, and so caused great surprise to some of his friends there, especially when he explained to them that in America the manner prevalent in Russia of spending Sunday evening would be thought quite shocking.

To show how my uncle respected the religious sense of the community, I will mention, that when the Prince of Wales was visiting him in Washington, and when a large company had been invited to do the Prince honor, my uncle would not consent to having any dancing at it. He took this position, not that he disapproved himself of dancing, but he thought that it would cause scandal to the religious people of the country if there were to be a dance there in the White House. “I am the servant of the people,” was his motto, and with this feeling in his mind he toiled, he lived and acted, always trying to prevent anything from being done which would give offence to that people.

I remember dining with him, in company with a lady who seemed to be a thoroughly worldly woman, one whose life had been spent in public and among worldly people. I do not remember the whole conversation, or how my uncle came to say it, but I remember his remark, “I say my prayers every day of my life.” The lady looked up at him in surprise, and questioned, thinking he was jesting. “No,” said my uncle, “I am not jesting, I have always said my prayers.” I will only add, while on this subject, that not only did my uncle attend church constantly on Sundays, but he was very particular to omit his ordinary avocations, and to make it a day of rest, through all his life.

There was one thing very noticeable in my uncle’s conversation during those years which he spent at Wheatland, after his return from Washington. He conversed very little on the political matters of the day, and, particularly, he showed remarkably little bitterness towards those whose indifference and even hatred towards himself showed themselves so strongly when power and influence had passed out of his hands. Occasionally, certainly, he could not help speaking his mind about one or two particularly flagrant cases, but as a general thing he passed over their conduct in silence. He was not fond of picking people to pieces, and his inclination was rather to speak and think kindly of his neighbors.