I have often said that Senator Platt was capable in more ways than any other man in the Senate of doing what the exigencies of the day from time to time put upon him. He was always at his post of duty, always watchful in caring for the interests of the country, always just and fair to all alike, and ever careful and conservative in determining what his duty should be in the disposition of any public question; and I regarded his judgment as a little more exactly right than that of any other Senator.
General Joseph R. Hawley, of Connecticut, was quite a figure in the Senate when I entered it, and was regarded as one of the leaders, especially on military matters. He was a man of fine ability and address, brave as a lion and enjoyed an enviable Civil War record. He was president of the Centennial at Philadelphia and permanent President of the Republican Convention of 1868, which nominated General Grant. He was a very ambitious man, and wanted to be President; several times the delegation from his State presented his name to national conventions. He had no mean idea of his own merits; and his colleague, Senator Platt, told me once in a jocular way that if the Queen of England should announce her purpose of giving a banquet to one of the most distinguished citizens from each nation, and General Hawley should be invited as the most distinguished citizen of the United States, he would take it as a matter of course.
Senator F. M. Cockrell and Senator George Vest represented Missouri in the United States Senate for very many years.
Senator Cockrell was one of the most faithful and useful legislators I ever knew. I served with him for years on the Committee on Appropriations. That committee never had a better member. He kept close track of the business of the Senate, and when the calendar was called, no measure was passed without his close scrutiny, especially any measure carrying an appropriation. He was a Democrat all his life, but never allowed partisanship to enter into his action on legislation. It was said of him that he used to make one fiery Democratic speech at each Congress, and then not think of partisanship again. He was not given much to talking about violating the Constitution, because he knew he had been in the Confederate Army himself and that he had violated it.
One day Senator George, who was, by the way, a very able Senator from the South, was making a long constitutional argument against a bill, extending over two or three days. I happened to be conversing with Cockrell at the time, and he remarked: "Just listen to George talk. He don't seem to realize that for four years he was violating the Constitution himself." Senator Cockrell retired from the Senate in 1905, his State for the first time in its history having elected a Republican Legislature.
President Roosevelt had the very highest regard for him, and as soon as it was known he could not be re-elected, he wired Senator Cockrell, tendering him a place on either the Interstate Commerce Commission or the Panama Canal Commission. He accepted the former, serving thereon for one term. He gave the duties of this position the same attention and study that he did when a member of the Senate.
Senator Vest was an entirely different style of man. He did not pay the close attention to the routine work of the Senate that Senator Cockrell did, but he was honest and faithful to his duty, and an able man as well. He was a great orator, and I have heard him make on occasion as beautiful speeches as were ever delivered in the Senate. At the time of his death he was the last surviving member of the Confederate Senate.
He told me a rather interesting story once about how he came to quit drinking whiskey. He said he came home to Missouri after the war, found little to do, and being almost without means, took to drinking whiskey pretty hard. He awoke one night and thought he saw a cat sitting on the end of his bed. He reached down, took up his boot-jack and threw it at the cat, as he supposed. Instead, a pitcher was smashed to atoms. Needless to add there was no cat at all, which he realized, and he never took another drink of liquor.
Senator Vest was not a very old man, but he was in poor health and feeble for his years. One day he looked particularly forlorn, sitting at his desk and leaning his head on his hands. I noticed his dejected attitude, and said to Senator Morrill, who was then eighty-five or eighty-six years old: "Go over and cheer up Vest." Morrill did so in these words: "Vest, what is the matter? Cheer up! Why, you are nothing but a boy."
Senator Vest retired from the Senate, and shortly thereafter died at his home in Washington.