MAKE A SPEECH—LECTURE ON IRELAND—POLITICS—PERSONAL ATTACKS—BECOME A SENATOR—THE "FIFTEEN-GALLON LAW"—A PAMPHLET IN ITS FAVOR—"MY NEIGHBOR SMITH"—A POLITICAL CAREER UNPROFITABLE.
The first public speech I ever made was at St. Albans, in England, in the year 1832, at a grand celebration of the passing of the Reform Bill; having accompanied thither Sir Francis Vincent, the representative in Parliament of that ancient borough. More than three thousand people, men, women, and children, gathered from the town and the vicinity, were feasted at a long table, set out in the principal street of the place. After this feast there were various sports, such as donkey-races, climbing a greased pole, and the like. At six o'clock, about one hundred and fifty of the gentry and leading tradesmen and mechanics sat down to a dinner, Sir Francis presiding. The President of the United States was toasted, and I was called upon to respond. Entirely taken by surprise, for not a word had been said to me upon the subject, I made a speech. I could never recall what I said: all I remember is a whirl of thoughts and emotions as I rose, occasional cries of "Hear, hear!" as I went on, and a generous clapping of hands as I concluded. Whether this last was because I really made a good hit, or from another principle—
"The best of Graham's speeches was his last"—
I am totally unable to say.
My next public appearance was in a lecture at the Tremont Temple, in Boston; my subject being "Ireland and the Irish." Although my discourse was written, and pretty well committed to memory, yet for several days before the time appointed for its delivery arrived, when I thought of my engagement, my heart failed me. When the hour came I went to the door of the room, but on seeing the throng of persons collected I felt that my senses were deserting me: turning on my heel, I went out, and going to an apothecary's, fortified myself with some peppermint lozenges. When I got back, the house was waiting with impatience. I was immediately introduced to the audience by Dr. Walter Channing, and stepping upon the platform, began. After the first sentence, I was perfectly at my ease. I afterwards delivered this lecture more than forty times.
In the autumn of 1836 there was a large evening party at Jamaica Plain, at the house of Mrs. G——, the lady-patroness of the village. Among the notable men present was Daniel Webster, whom I had frequently seen, but to whom I was now introduced for the first time. He spoke to me of many things, and at last of politics, suggesting that the impending presidential election involved most important questions, and he deemed it the duty of every man to reflect upon the subject, and to exert his influence as his conscience might dictate.
Since my residence in Massachusetts, a period of nearly eight years, I had been engrossed in my business, and had never even voted. Just at this time I was appointed, without any suggestion of my own, one of the delegates to the Whig Convention to nominate a person to represent us, the Ninth Congressional District, in Congress. This was to take place at Medway, at the upper end of the district. I went accordingly, and on the first ballot was the highest candidate, save one—Mr. Hastings, of Mendon. I declined, of course, and he was unanimously nominated.
The canvass that ensued was a very animated one, Mr. Van Buren being the democratic candidate for the presidency. He was considered as the heir-apparent of the policy of Gen. Jackson, and had, indeed, promised, if elected, to walk in the footsteps of his illustrious predecessor. Without the personal popularity of that remarkable man, he became the target for all the hostility which his measures had excited. He was, however, elected, but to be overwhelmed with a whirlwind of discontent and opposition four years after.
The candidate for Congress in our district, in opposition to Mr. Hastings, was Alexander H. Everett, who had been hitherto a conspicuous Whig, and who had signalized himself by the ability and bitterness of his attacks on General Jackson and his administration. He had singled out Mr. Van Buren, for especial vehemence of reproach, because, being Secretary of State at the time, Mr. Everett was superseded as Minister to Spain without the customary courtesy of an official note advising him of the appointment of his successor. To the amazement of the public in general, and his friends in particular, on the 8th of January, 1836, Mr. Everett delivered an oration before the democracy of Salem, in which—ignoring the most prominent portion of his political life—he came out with the warmest eulogies upon General Jackson and his administration! About the first of May, the precise period when it was necessary, in order to render him eligible to Congress in the Ninth District, he took up his residence within its precincts, and, as was easily foreseen, was the democratic candidate for Congress.
The Whig District Committee, of which I was one, and Charles Bowen (Mr. Everett's publisher), another, issued a pamphlet, collating and contrasting Mr. Everett's two opinions of General Jackson's policy, and especially of Mr. Van Buren—the one flatly contradicting the other, and, in point of date, being but two or three years apart. This was circulated over the towns of the district. It was a terrible document, and Mr. Everett felt its force. One of them was left at his own door in the general distribution. This he took as a personal insult, and meeting Bowen, knocked him over the head with his umbrella. Bowen clutched him by the throat, and would have strangled him but for the timely interference of a bystander.