As I Remember
During the War of 1812, Major Lomax was sent upon a mission to Canada by
the U.S. Government and, one day during his brief sojourn, dined in
company with some British officers. During the dinner a toast was
offered by one of the sons of John Bull: "To President Madison, dead or
alive." The responding toast by Major Lomax was: "To the Prince Regent,
drunk or sober." The British officer who had proposed the toast to
Madison immediately sprang to his feet and with much indignation
inquired: "Do you mean to insult me, sir?" The quick rejoinder was: "I
am responding to an insult!"
I met Charles Sumner soon after his first appearance in the United
States Senate as the successor of Daniel Webster, who had become
Secretary of State. He was a man of striking appearance and bore himself
with the dignity so characteristic of the statesmen of that period.
"Sumner is one of them literary fellows," was the facetious criticism of
the Hon. Zachariah Chandler of Michigan, who a few years later became
one of his colleagues in the Senate, and who in earlier life was
accumulating a large fortune while Mr. Sumner, in his Massachusetts
home, was engaged in those intellectual and scholarly pursuits which
eventually made him one of the ripest and most accomplished students in
the land. Chandler, however, in his own way, furnished a conspicuous
example to aspiring youths of the day, both by his earlier and
subsequent life, of what may be accomplished by determined application.
For a decade or more preceding the Civil War the political sentiment of
Washington, especially in reference to the violent anti-slavery
agitation then engrossing the thought of the country, was decidedly in
sympathy with the attitude of the South. It is not, therefore,
surprising that Sumner, whose radical views were known from Maine to
Texas, should have been received at first in Washington society with but
little cordiality. As the years passed along, he was rapidly forging
himself ahead to the leadership of his party in the Senate and, of
course, became strongly inimical to Buchanan's administration. He was
regarded with confidence and esteem by his own party, and, although
naturally both disliked and feared by his political opponents, it could
be truthfully said of him that he was
A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks,
and that no attempts to socially ostracize or to deride him for his
political views and his intense application to his sense of duty
deterred the great Massachusetts statesman from pursuing the "even tenor
of his way."
An anecdote went the rounds of the Capital to the effect that, one
morning when a gentleman called to see Sumner at his rooms on
Pennsylvania Avenue, a colored attendant answered the door and after
glancing at his card informed him that it would be impossible to disturb
his master, as he was rehearsing before a looking-glass a speech which
he expected to deliver the following morning. Whether this was
originally told by a friend or foe of Mr. Sumner is not known. Mr.
Sumner once requested me to take him to see a young Washington belle who
combined Parisian grace with Kentucky dash. I refer to Miss Sally
Strother, an acknowledged beauty of decidedly Southern views, who lived
on Seventh Street near F Street, now a commercial center. Mr. Sumner and
I walked to her house from my home on G Street and found several guests
in her drawing-room, where the topic of conversation, in the course of
the evening, drifted to the subject of spiritualism. It was announced
that at a recent _seance_ the spirit of Washington had appeared and
uttered the usual platitudes, whereupon Miss Strother, without a
moment's hesitation, remarked: "I wonder what General Washington would
say about Mr. Sumner?" Someone undertook to define Washington's views,
but Miss Strother interrupted and said: "I know just what he would
say--that he was a very intelligent, a very handsome, but a very bad
man." This remark was naturally productive of much mirth, but failed to
arouse any manifestation of feeling or disapprobation on the part of Mr.
Sumner. Later, as we were walking homeward he remarked: "I have
_l'esprit d'escalier_ and my retorts do not come until I am well-nigh
down the flight of stairs." Sally Strother went abroad, where she
married Baron Fahnenberg of Belgium, and shared a fate similar to that
of many of her country-women, as she was finally separated from her
husband. She cherished, however, a pride of title and bequeathed $60,000
to erect in Spa, Belgium, a handsome chapel as well as a vault to
contain the remains of her mother, brother and herself. Her Kentucky
relatives, however, including the family of Mrs. Basil Duke, succeeded
in breaking the will on the ground that her mother's will, through which
she had inherited her property, did not permit it to leave the family.
The chapel and vault, accordingly, were not built, and all her property
reverted to her relatives.
In addition to his commanding presence, nature bestowed upon Mr. Sumner
a clear and melodious voice, which rendered it quite unnecessary for him
to resort to Demosthenic methods of cultivation. For many years his
inspiring words could be heard upon the floor of the Senate in all of
the leading debates of the day, and his masterly orations will go down
to posterity as an important contribution to the history of many
national administrations.
I well remember Preston S. Brooks's cowardly assault upon Charles Sumner
in the Senate Chamber in the spring of 1856. Public indignation ran very
high, and his political opponents referred to him thereafter as "Bully
Brooks." Socially, as well as politically, he was popular. He possessed
a gentle and pleasing bearing and it would have been difficult for
anyone to associate him with such a cruel outrage. His uncle, Andrew P.
Butler, who was in the U.S. Senate from South Carolina at the same time,
was a fine-looking and venerable gentleman, but he was one of the class
then designated as "fire-eaters."
There existed between Mr. Sumner and Henry W. Longfellow a strong
friendship which was contracted in early life. I have often heard the
Massachusetts statesman recite some of his friend's poetical lines,
which seemed to me additionally beautiful when rendered in his deep and
sonorous voice. In the latter years of his life he resided in the house
which is now the Arlington Hotel Annex, where he surrounded himself with
his remarkable collection of books and articles of _virtu_ which he
exhibited with pride to his guests. I especially recall an old clock
presented to him by Henry Sanford, Minister to Belgium, as an artistic
work of exceptional beauty. Mr. Sumner, by the way, was an accomplished
connoisseur in art. I have heard him strongly denounce Clark Mills's
equestrian statue of General Andrew Jackson, now standing in the center
of Lafayette Square. He told me that on one occasion he was conducting a
party of Englishmen through the streets of the National Capital and, as
they were driving along Pennsylvania Avenue, he seated himself in such a
position as to entirely obstruct the view of what he called this
"grotesque statue," calling the attention of his guests, meanwhile, to
the White House on the other side of the street.
I felt honored in calling Charles Sumner my friend, and I take especial
pleasure in repeating the encomium that "to the wisdom of the statesman
and the learning of the scholar he joined the consecration of a patriot,
the honor of a knight and the sincerity of a Christian." George Sumner,
his brother, did not appear in the land of his birth as a celebrity, but
he had a remarkable career abroad. He hobnobbed with royalty throughout
the European continent and was highly regarded for his profound
learning. He studied at the Universities of Heidelberg and Berlin and
traveled extensively through Europe, Asia and Africa. He never tarried
long in his "native heath," and furnished conspicuous evidence that "a
prophet is not without honor save in his own country." Alexander von
Humboldt praised the accuracy of his researches and Alexis de
Tocqueville referred to him as being better acquainted with European
politics than any European with whom he was acquainted.
While Sumner was in the Senate, George T. Davis of Greenfield,
Massachusetts, was a member of the House of Representatives. I knew him
very well and he was a constant visitor at our home. He was celebrated
for his flashes of wit, which sometimes stimulated undeveloped powers in
others, and I have often seen dull perceptions considerably sharpened at
his approach. Oliver Wendell Holmes speaks of his witty sayings in the
"Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," and his conversational powers were so
brilliant that they won the admiration of Thackeray. Robert Rantoul,
also from Massachusetts, and a colleague of Davis, was a "Webster Whig"
and a powerful exponent of the "Free-Soil" faith. Davis, who was so
bright and clever in the drawing-room, could not, however, compete with
Rantoul on the floor of the House in parliamentary debate. The epitaph
on Rantoul's monument says that "He died at his post in Congress, and
his last words were a protest in the name of Democracy against the
Fugitive-Slave Law." One of the verses of Whittier's poem, entitled
"Rantoul," reads as follows:--
Through him we hoped to speak the word
Which wins the freedom of a land;
And lift, for human right, the sword
Which dropped from Hampden's dying hand.
I first met the eccentric Count Adam Gurowski at the convivial tea table
of Miss Emily Harper in Newport, upon one of those balmy summer evenings
so indelibly impressed upon my memory. He was, perhaps, in many
respects, one of the most remarkable characters that Washington has ever
known. He was a son of Count Ladislas Gurowski, an ardent admirer of
Kosciusko, and was active in revolutionary projects in Poland in
consequence of which he was condemned to death by the Russian
authorities. He managed, however, to escape and in 1835 published a work
entitled "La Verite sur la Russie," in which he advocated a union of the
various branches of the Slavic race. This book was so favorably regarded
in Russia that its author was recalled and employed in the civil
service. He came to this country in 1849, and, after being employed on
the staff of _The New York Tribune_, came to Washington, where his
linguistic attainments and the aid of Charles Sumner secured for him a
position as translator in the State Department, which he held from 1861
to 1863.
The Count was a medley of strange whims and idiosyncrasies that almost
baffle description. Together with his strong individuality, he possessed
a trait which made many enemies and ultimately proved his undoing. I
refer to his uncontrollable desire to contradict and to antagonize. It
was simply impossible to find a subject upon which he and anyone else
could agree. There were, however, extenuating circumstances. "Chill
penury," forced upon him by the state of his financial affairs, had much
to do with his cynical and acrimonious spirit. Prosperity is certainly
conducive to an amiable bearing, and I believe that Gurowski would have
been more conciliatory if adversity had not so persistently attended
his pathway. It is highly probable, too, that Gurowski would have
retained his position under the government indefinitely but for his
unfortunate disposition. He wrote a diary from 1861 to 1863 which he was
so indiscreet as to keep in his desk in the State Department; and,
unknown at first to him, some of its pages were brought to the attention
of certain officials of the government. They contained anything but
complimentary references to his chief, William H. Seward, Secretary of
State, and he was discharged. Meanwhile he had antagonized his