Part 21

Mr. Julian was an Abolitionist in the days when nothing could be more disgraceful; when urchins, with boys of a larger growth, pelted the unfortunate advocate of such ideas with eggs no longer fresh laid. During the long bitter years of the rebellion Mr. Julian worked with untiring energy, not only in his seat on the floor of the House, but wherever he was needed he proved himself to be the soldier’s friend. He has served twelve years in Congress, and during all this time he has never been identified with any legislative measure except such as reflects credit on his judgment and the Republican party. If he has not achieved immortal renown during his last term as a member, it is because the Forty-first Congress has been in a mildewed condition from the beginning to the decline. Mr. Julian has just passed the noon of life, but the flush of morning still shines in his countenance, and on bright, sunny days he may be seen wending his way toward the Capitol, his fine face aglow with honest, kindly feeling, and his majestic form towering a whole head above the majority of his countrymen. Let the country he has so long and honorably served bid him a momentary adieu, with the expectation that he will respond at any future time when the services of a man are required who needs a reputation like that of Cæsar’s wife. The nation’s loss is Indiana’s gain, and if the benighted State is to be regenerated, the result will be brought about through the unremitting toil of such men as George W. Julian.

The Commonwealth of Ohio has recalled Judge Welker and Judge Lawrence, two of the soundest Republicans and safest men in the country. As one of the most prominent members of the Committee for the District of Columbia, Judge Welker has had no easy task to perform. All matters of importance pertaining to the District have been brought to his notice, and all complaints for which it was supposed that Congressional legislation could provide a remedy have been poured into his ears unsparingly. If any abuses were found to exist at the national lunatic asylum the presence of Judge Welker was instantly sought. This man has been six years in Congress, and during this time no man can show a better record. He has never been caught in the snares of the lobby, and he goes back to his constituents with clean, spotless hands. It is rumored that Ohio intends to make him a governor, and if the best material is needed for the sacrifice nothing better can be found. Judge Welker is a self-made man, and that may help to account for his firm, steel-like qualities. It would take the sum total of twenty-five ordinary Congressmen to make a man equal in every moral aspect to Judge Welker; and when it can be said that he is made of colors that will not wash, and that neither man, woman, nor child ever pinned their faith to him and was disappointed, nothing further is necessary descriptive of his character.

In figure this late Congressman is rather below the medium size, with a finely formed head, crowned with heavy luxuriant curls, in exchange for which a woman would almost sell her birthright. Now add a pair of deep, dark eyes, so transparent that you can often catch a glimpse of the soul within, and you have the leading points that indicate the man known as Judge Martin Welker.

Judge Lawrence has been a brave man on the floor of Congress, and no member has inspired the lobby with greater terror. He has always been the sworn foe of railroad schemes, ocean subsidies, corporations, and monopolies. How vigilantly he has watched the late appropriation bills; and he never seemed to realize that there was any difference between Uncle Sam’s pocket and his own. How thoroughly he has attended to the affairs of his constituents. If he has sometimes been accused of selfishness, Ohio has never had reason to complain, for if he has sinned in this respect it has all been done for her sake. Mr. Lincoln declared during the late rebellion that Massachusetts, Ohio, and Iowa controlled the destiny of this nation. If this is conceded, it is because of the strength of the Congressional delegation of these respective States. Ohio has been trying the experiment of “rotation in office,” and for the next two years the old Buckeye State will be out at sea on her trial trip. It is true some of the old officers are left at their posts, and if no storms arise the ship will probably return in safety.

Iowa, not content to let well enough alone, has recalled two-thirds of her late delegation. No longer will the eye of the gallery be dazzled by him who has been termed the handsomest man in Congress. Alas! alas! William B. Allison is no more in the seat he lately occupied. Never again will the large brown eyes be seen wandering uneasily from floor to ceiling, seeking some soft, receptive spot, whereon to languish and die. Mr. Allison’s Congressional reputation rests upon the fact that to all appearances he has been the bosom friend of Representative Hooper, of Boston. It is not known positively whether Mr. Allison will return to Iowa and resume the practice of law, or whether he intends to be stuffed and sent to Boston to occupy a conspicuous ornamental place in Mr. Hooper’s gorgeous library. As soon as a decision is reached the people shall be apprised.

Mr. Loughridge, of Iowa, also goes out. He will chiefly be remembered as favoring the minority report on the woman suffrage question in the Judiciary Committee. Judge Loughridge agrees with Mrs. Woodhull on the fourteenth and fifteenth amendments to the Constitution, and thinks women are already entitled to vote.

Pennsylvania has made a great clearing in the ranks of her Representatives. One-half of the late members of the Forty-first Congress are re-elected. But this includes the late Hon. John Covode. According to the record, eleven of the old members are in their seats and thirteen new men are to try their hands at the raw work of legislation. The most prominent men who retire are Charles O’Neill, of Philadelphia, and Daniel J. Morrell, of Johnstown, both able men on the floor. Mr. O’Neill has been in Congress eight years, winning fresh honors with every succeeding year, and just at the present time, when he has attained the zenith of Congressional usefulness, he slips back into the calm waters of private life. If Philadelphia can stand the affliction there is no one else to complain. Hon. Charles O’Neill looks as if he had just laid aside all care and trouble and was about to commence the world again.

Chicago recalls the stately Mr. Judd, one of the most courtly and elegant men in Congress. Few men are stronger than he is in legislative matters; but a man of polished manners is remarkable because the House of Representatives is not noted for its laws of genteel propriety. And then it is so strange that Chicago should be distinguished for its grace or courtly qualities.

The Hon. Shelby M. Cullom goes also, but then it is said that he will return next winter as Congressman for the State at large. The greatest wit in Congress, Proctor Knott, retires to the shades of Lebanon, Kentucky. Who will forget his memorable speech on the railroad to Duluth and the paving of Pennsylvania avenue? We know nothing about his qualities as a legislator, but blessings be on the head of a man that can make us laugh.

Rogers, of Arkansas, actually yields up the legislative ghost. Rogers, the man who wanted all the women of the Treasury blown out exactly as the flame of a lamp is served. “Poor Rogers,” Susan B. Anthony calls him. If the delectable Susan meant poor in flesh, she was right, for Rogers resembles a bear immediately upon waking up after taking its long delicious winter snooze.

This letter comes to an end because no more ex-Congressmen to-day can step across the vestibule of our mind.

OLIVIA.

THE BLACK MAN IN CONGRESS.

SKETCHES OF A NUMBER OF SOLONS OF AFRICAN DESCENT.

WASHINGTON, _March 11, 1871_.

At the third session of the Fortieth Congress appeared the first colored man on the floor of the United States Congress. The name of this man was Willis Menard, and he hailed from New Orleans, La. Mr. Menard came to Washington as a contestant for a seat in the House, but his rival gained the victory. This man was allowed the floor in order to make his defence, and awarded $2,500 with which to pay the damages. Mr. Menard’s maiden speech reflected great credit upon himself and the newspaper with which he was connected, but it failed of the desired effect, and he soon after took his departure for more sunny climes. Mr. Menard was a handsome quadroon, and it is said that he derived a certain smooth, sinuous voice from his Creole ancestors.

The next candidates for Congressional fame were Jefferson F. Long and Joseph H. Rainey. These were the first colored men who obtained a foothold in the House. These men came from their respective States armed with the proper documents, and without further notice or trouble slipped into their seats in the outside row, the farthest from the Speaker. It is not known whether by design or accident it happened that their seats were chosen so very near the door. At any rate they were in the very best position that could be obtained to flee in case the wily Logan should attempt capitol moving, or the fiery eloquence of a Butler or Banks should communicate flames to the nervous surroundings. How quaint these two strange youthful faces appeared by the side of wrinkles, frost and snow. Black men? No! White men? No! But tinted a shade the Eternal knows how to mix. Jefferson F. Long, of Macon, was born in Crawford County, Georgia. With great difficulty he obtained the rudiments of an education. He was engaged in the business of a merchant tailor when he was elected, and his term of office closed with the Forty-first Congress. It always takes the first two years to learn the trade of a member, consequently Mr. Long could not accomplish much during his apprenticeship, but he proved himself as apt at the business as the average white man, and he gained the respect and good-will of his fellow workmen. He will be remembered as one of the first two colored men elected to Congress; and the Forty-first Congress will be famous only because, for the first time in the country’s history, a race which forms an integral part of the nation had a hearing through their own people. The Forty-first Congress is scored in history by a colored mark which will deepen and broaden as the Republic runs its course.

Joseph H. Rainey was born in Georgetown, S. C. His parents were natives of the same city, but by their industry obtained their freedom. He was never allowed to attend school, but in some way he managed to gather the rudiments of an education. This knowledge was vastly augmented and improved by travel in the West Indies and elsewhere. During the war he was obliged to work on the rebel fortifications, but he managed to escape and did not come back until the close of the war, and then he returned to Georgetown. He was elected a delegate to the State constitutional convention in 1868, and was a member of the State Senate in 1870, which position he resigned to fill the vacancy caused by the resignation of B. F. Whittemore, of cadet fame.

Mr. Rainey is one of the five colored members of the Forty-second Congress. In features and complexion he is far more like an Asiatic than an African. In size he has attained sufficient height for exceeding grace, and then he has a voice like a flute, and the smooth, soft velvet ways of the Orientals. It is true, he has kind of an innocent habit of putting his hands in the place where a revolver or bowie knife is usually kept; but then he says, “We all have to go armed in the South, ready at a moment’s warning to sell our lives if it is necessary. No Republican of any prominence is safe.” Perhaps no man in the country has had so strange and eventful a history as Mr. Rainey. Born a slave, though early free, reared amidst the degradation of this despotism, debarred from the light of learning, yet he takes his seat in Congress before a line indicative of age has marked his countenance, representing the town and district in which he was born. He seems to have fallen into his seat as noiselessly as a snowflake touches the earth. He sits by General Butler. _Contraband! Contraband!_ The problem is solved.

Josiah T. Walls, the member from Florida, was born in North Carolina, of free parents, and looks as if he were about 28 years of age. He was educated in Philadelphia, and served in the Union Army, leaving school to fight the battles of his country. After the war Florida became his home, and he was first chosen to the house and afterwards to the senate of the State. He resigned his seat in the State senate in order to come to Congress. It is said that Mr. Walls is of Indian extraction, but in appearance he resembles a bright mulatto, of good features and average height. In personal raiment he is not eclipsed by any Congressman, and he may be seen in his seat, clad in polished broadcloth, spotless linen, and dainty blue necktie. A snowy handkerchief of pineapple origin, peeping from his pocket, photographs the taste of an exquisite gentleman. General Butler being absent from the House when the seats were chosen, Mr. Walls, fortunate in the choice of a good one, tendered it to the warrior, by whom it was accepted.

Robert C. De Large, of the Charleston district, is here in place of the Hon. C. C. Bowen, whose numerous wives are becoming as famous as Brigham Young’s. He presents an aspect of as much intellectual strength in his personal appearance as nine-tenths of the members on the floor. Mr. De Large was born free in South Carolina, received the scanty rudiments of an education, but being a man of great force of character, he knew how to make the most of his advantages. During the war he worked on the rebel fortifications. He has always taken an active part in politics, and was appointed clerk in the Freedmen’s Bureau. He was also a member of the constitutional convention, and subsequently a member of the legislature, where he was chairman of the committee on ways and means. Mr. De Large has acquired distinction as a parliamentarian. In person this Congressman bears very little resemblance to the African race. His mother was a Haytien, and he inherits a rich olive skin. In stature he is rather below the medium size, and his exceeding grace of manner might be imitated to the advantage of more experienced Congressmen. Mr. De Large is 28 years old.

Benjamin S. Turner, of Alabama, was born in North Carolina, in 1825, but removed to the State he represents in 1830. He was born a slave and remained so until the proclamation of Abraham Lincoln. Under the most trying and difficult circumstances he learned to read. His master’s children taught him to repeat the letters of the alphabet, but it was a long time afterwards before he knew the relation between the name and the printed character. He says he was mostly educated by reading the New York _Herald_, though occasionally, once in a very long time, he managed to get hold of a New York _Tribune_. Mr. Turner was first elected tax gatherer of Dallas County, where he was required to furnish a bond of $45,000. This he was enabled to do, but he did not enjoy the office, and so he resigned. He was then elected a member of the city council of Selma, and carried his district by over 5,000 majority. Soon after he was elected to Congress. In person Mr. Turner is above the average height, with all indications of immense muscular power. His figure might answer for a handsome statue of Hercules cast in bronze. If a man must have dark blood in his veins, it is well to be stained in the bright color of this Southern member. If the human eye is the window of the soul, what a defiant spirit crouches behind the fierce, sharp orbs of Mr. Turner. Then he has a way of biting off his words and spitting them out, as if they had a bitter instead of savory taste. Although a slave, it is easy to see that he was never made to kiss the rod. Coming to the stationery room of the House the first day of the Forty-second Congress, he requested that certain sundries be sent to his rooms, at the same time offering to pay for them. He was told that members were allowed a certain amount, which was charged to them; all over this was paid for. Said he, “I am well aware of that. If the Government allows me anything I will get it at the right time, but I’ll pay for what I have; I keep no open accounts with any man.” And the jaws closed with all the force produced by two hundred years of bondage. Mr. Turner is a strong man in his way, but whether his qualities are such as will give him distinction in Congress time alone must decide.

Robert B. Elliot, the colored man who represents the proud capital of the late hot-bed of secession, differs in many ways from the other tawny members. He is not only a genuine African, without a drop of white blood to lessen the darkness, but he is a carpetbagger of the Massachusetts persuasion. The first gun fired at Sumter opened the way for this most astonishing spectacle of the nineteenth century. Oh, the long, bitter, savage struggle between Massachusetts and South Carolina! The Palmetto State flung down the glove when her guns opened on Sumter. As fast as steam could travel Massachusetts had her soldiers in Washington to pick it up. Cotton and rice went under. Codfish and mackerel prevailed, whilst one man in the inky covering of Robert B. Elliot represents both Massachusetts and South Carolina on the floor of Congress. A shadowy halo of romance surrounds this man, and it is very hard to sift the truth from the hundred tales that are afloat concerning his origin and history. It is said that he was educated in England and that he is familiar with many languages, but none, so far, as we can understand, have heard him converse in anything but his supposed mother tongue. Mr. Elliot has been a resident of South Carolina since the war. He has a fine English education, and is a lawyer by profession. At one time he was editor of the _South Carolina Leader_, which he conducted with ability and considerable eclat. It is thought by a great many that he will lead the colored men in Congress. This may be so, but it is well to remember that the fiery blood of the South flows in Mr. Turner’s veins, and the probabilities are that the feuds between Massachusetts and South Carolina will not be allowed to die for the want of proper material to feed the flame. Mr. Elliot was a member of the Republican convention, also a member of the legislature, where he was chairman of the committee on railroads. At the present time the subject of railroads is of vast importance to the people of South Carolina. There is no possible way of making a thing of beauty and a joy forever out of Mr. Elliot. If he were a British commissioner or an African prince it would be all the same. Nature has fixed him up according to her best ideas of a man, and it is evident that she did not consult him or any other mortal in the matter. The New York _Tribune_ says he is very fine looking “when his face lights up.” If this is so, there is nothing to prevent him from procuring a patent illuminator and becoming the handsomest man in Congress, unless General Butler steals a march on him and appropriates everything of the kind to be found for his own use. Mr. Elliot is reputed to be a man of considerable wealth and much refinement; but you can no more judge of his age than you could that of a porcelain egg.

OLIVIA.

BY THE GRACE OF THE QUEEN.

HER MAJESTY’S REPRESENTATIVES ON THE JOINT HIGH COMMISSION.

WASHINGTON, _March 17, 1871_.

To the modest suburban building temporarily occupied by the State Department the eye of the country is directed. A cozy suite of rooms are set apart in this same pile of brick and mortar, where a body of men called the joint high commission meet in order to discuss the little “unpleasantnesses” which have occurred from time to time between two governments which have both pretended to be united to each other by the most natural and fraternal ties. It is not the object of this letter to disclose any of the secrets that are caressed and embraced within those awful doors, vigilantly guarded by locks and keys, but some of the ceremonies and forms observed, as well as the dress and bearings of those in authority, may not come amiss to the general reader.

As early as 10 in the morning carriages are seen rapidly approaching the State Department. After depositing the distinguished human freight the carriages disappear. We have the joint high commission within the building. It may be thought that these men all enter the same room, consult and measure red tape together. Far from any such nonsense. The British commissioners go into a room by themselves; the American commissioners betake themselves to another; and each country talks to itself some two hours, more or less. Then the commissioners of both countries adjourn to a room in the same building, where a modest lunch of crackers and cheese is spread.

Then the joint high commission throat is deluged with the choicest wines that have outlived the perils of an ocean voyage. This performance safely over, the commissioners of both countries adjourn to the same room, where Earl de Grey discourses for the British lion, and Secretary Fish speaks in behalf of the American eagle, while the remainder of the joint high commissioners keep “whist” as hunters in search of the flying game. It will readily be seen that the English commissioners have simply their instructions to carry out. There is no free discussion between the members of both sides. Each side is heard through its mouthpiece, and it is safe to say that no fault can be found with the awful dignity of the joint high commission.

Somewhere between the hours of 4 and 5 in the afternoon this distinguished assembly adjourns, and every evening in the week a dinner party is waiting somewhere for the Englishmen. The writer heard Sir Stafford Northcote say that the “social duties of the commission were becoming the hardest part of the work.” Just as the Hon. Reverdy Johnson was wined and dined in England, the royal scions of nobility are treated here. One evening they are invited to General Sherman’s to see the Supreme Judges; another evening we have some other great and mighty man to show. Washington is determined to astonish these men, if excellent dinners will do it; besides it sounds well to point out to a morning visitor the very chair upon which some of the bluest blood of England has graciously reclined. Just as Queen Elizabeth used to select the right man for the right position, her Majesty’s Government has made choice of the right material for the right place. Like a wise woman, Victoria did not trouble herself about beauty, but chose her men as the mother advised her daughter when selecting a husband--for qualities that would wear. In the first place, she looked around for a great lawyer on international affairs, and selected her famous subject, Sir Montague Bernard, the present professor of international law at Oxford. Sir Montague Bernard has written a great many pamphlets on international law, besides a lecture on diplomacy, and the history of British neutrality during the late civil war. If by any sort of alchemy a man could be evolved from that immaterial something that goes to make English law, Mr. Bernard is the man. There seems to be just enough body about him to confine his international matter, with nothing left to love, hope, or die with. With a firm set mouth and peculiar voice! How one longs to lift up the lids of his mind and see the click and play of the awful machinery!