It so happened that I was in Washington when the trouble between Conkling and Garfield was at its height, over the appointment of Robertson. I called to see the President to pay my respects. He asked me if I knew what General Logan would do in reference to the nomination of Mr. Robertson. I told him I did not know, and he asked me if I could find out, and to come to breakfast with him next morning. I did find out that General Logan expected to stand by the President, and I so reported to him next morning.
I bade him good-bye and this was the last time that I ever saw him alive. I attended his funeral at Cleveland, and as I saw his body laid away, I thought of the strange caprice of fate. Was it premonition that made him so sad and castdown—so utterly crushed, as it seemed to me—when he became the Republican candidate for President before that great convention of 1880? Had he not been elected President, he would probably have enjoyed a long, useful, and highly creditable public career. He would have been one of the most distinguished representatives that Ohio ever had in the upper branch of Congress. He was to the most eminent degree fitted for a legislator. In the national halls of Congress his public life had been spent; there he was at home. He was not at all fitted for the position of Chief Executive of the United States. And I say this not in a spirit of hostility, but in the most kindly way, because I loved General Garfield as one of my earliest friends, in those days of long ago, when I served in the Thirty-ninth Congress.
There was no man in the Thirty-ninth Congress with whom I was afterwards so long and intimately associated as I was with the late Senator William B. Allison of Iowa, with whom I served in the Senate for a quarter of a century.
Senator Allison was quite a prominent member of the House when I entered Congress, and was serving then as a member of the important Ways and Means Committee. He was regarded as one of the ablest and most influential of the Western members.
From the very earliest time I knew him, Senator Allison was an authority on matters pertaining to finance. While he was in favor of a protective tariff, he was not particularly a high-tariff advocate; he, and the late General Logan who was then in the House, and I worked together on tariff matters, as against the high-tariff advocates, led by General Schenck.
On one occasion we defeated a high-tariff proposition that General Schenck was advocating. He was furious, and rising up in his place, declared:
"I might as well move to lay the bill on the table and to write as its epitaph—'nibbled to death by pismires!'"
The remark made General Logan terribly angry; but Senator Allison, who had a quiet, keen sense of humor, and I were very much amused, —as much at the fury of Logan as at the remark of Schenck.
As a member of the House, Senator Allison followed the more radical element against President Johnson. He was much more radical than I was in those days, and he attacked President Johnson repeatedly on the floor of the House, in tone and manner utterly unlike himself when later he served in the Senate.
In the upper body he was decidedly a conservative. He never committed himself until he was absolutely certain. He was always regarded as a wise man, and he exercised an extraordinary control over members, in settling troublesome questions and bringing about harmony in the Senate. He had powerful influence, not only with members of his own party, but with members of the opposition. Every one had confidence in him. His statements were accepted without question. He never attempted oratory, but by cool statement of facts he moulded the opinions of legislators. He was one of those even tempered, level-headed, sound, sensible men to whom we naturally turned when there were difficult questions to settle.