I replied $2,500 a quarter, and the Secretary said that would not be too much, and if the consul would make requisitions they would be honored.
I wrote my friend Cuniffe immediately.
This was before the days of “Retrenchment and Reform.”
Now came one of my hardest battles. My term of four years as collector of customs at El Paso, under Lincoln, was about to expire, and there was objection to my reappointment—there always is—but in this case there was a serious charge of misconduct in office to the effect that I had permitted the exportation of large quantities of arms and ammunition from my district into Mexico to be used against the French, in violation of the instructions from my own Government and the neutrality laws; and “on the face of the returns” the charge appeared to be true, and my enemies believed my defeat certain.
Andrew Johnson was President. When I called on him, with some friends, to make my formal application, we met, by an awkward accident, a delegation of my enemies, and we “had it out” then and there. I stated my own case, and though the President was noncommittal, I felt sure of reappointment, though my friends did not. A few days afterward, when Judge Watts was talking to the President on other subjects, the President said: “Judge, where is your young friend from Texas? Is this his appointment which I signed to-day?” When told that it was, he said: “I intended from the first to appoint him. I like that young man.”
In the Senate there was opposition to my confirmation. Senator Conness of California made a sensational speech against me in executive session, and presented what he called “proof.” I saw the Senator personally and made some explanations, which it is not necessary, or proper, to repeat here, and he withdrew his opposition and moved my confirmation, and I was unanimously confirmed.
In May, 1866, the President’s private secretary, Col. Henry Cooper, asked the Texas Republicans then in Washington to agree upon some Texan to be appointed “Visitor to West Point.”
These appointments are strictly Presidential, not requiring confirmation by the Senate, and are much desired and sought after, being considered a high honor and a special favor from the chief executive of the nation. We met and selected a very distinguished Texan, Judge George W. Paschal, and sent up his name.
A few days later Colonel Cooper said to one of our friends: “The President does not like the selection of Paschal. He says he is going to appoint Mills. Tell Mills to come and see him.” I called and thanked the President, and had some conversation with him, but later gave my brother, Capt. Anson Mills, a letter to the President, requesting him to substitute his name for mine, which was done.
I have known and conversed with four Presidents—Lincoln, Johnson, Grant and McKinley—and have held office under all of them; but I knew Andy Johnson best, and I liked the rugged, stubborn Southerner, who had stood firm as a rock against rebellion in his own section. If I had been older, or bolder, I am vain enough to believe I might possibly have been of service to him. He had inherited his Cabinet from Mr. Lincoln, and some of them were, from the start, not very devoted to him personally. He was being flattered and cajoled by his late enemies, and he had been fretted and angered by certain Republican leaders, “wise men of the East,” who believed that no good could come out of Nazareth, and he was about to make the mistake of his life—the break with his party. I was pleased when, years later, he came to the United States Senate, supported by the votes of his best and truest friends—the Union people of Tennessee.