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It is less than four miles from Harvard Square to Boston City Hall, a building rather exceptional for its fine architecture among public edifices, but the change in 1865 was like the change from one sphere of human thought and activity to another.
In Boston politics was everything, and literature, art, philosophy nothing, or next to nothing.
There was mercantile life, of course, and careworn merchants anxiously waiting about the gold-board; but there were no tally-ho coaches; there was no golf or polo, and very little yachting.
Fashionable society was also at a low ebb, and as
Wendell Phillips remarked in 1866, the only parties were boys' and girls' dancing-parties.
A large proportion of the finest young men in the city had, like the Lowells, shed their blood for the
Republic.
The young people danced, but their elders looked grave.
At this time the political centre of
Massachusetts and, to a certain extent of
New England, was the
Bird Club, which met every Saturday afternoon at Young's Hotel to dine and discuss the affairs of the nation.
Its membership counted both
Senators, the
Governor, a number of ex-Governors and four or five members of
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Congress.
They were a strong team when they were all harnessed together.
Francis William Bird, the original organizer of the club, was born in
Dedham, October 22, 1809, and the only remarkable fact concerning his ancestry would seem to be that his great-grandmother was a Hawthorne, of the same family as
Nathaniel Hawthorne; but there was no trace of that strongly-marked lineage in his composition.
As a boy he was quick at mathematics, but not much of a student, so that he was full eighteen years of age before he entered Brown University.
His college course also left him in a depleted physical condition, and it was several years later when he commenced the actual labor of life.
His father had intended him for the law; but this did not agree with his health, and his physician advised a more active employment.
Accordingly we find him in 1835 engaged in the manufacture of paper at East Walpole, an occupation in which he continued until 1892,--always suffering from dyspepsia, but always equal to whatever occasion demanded of him. He was a tall, thin, wiry-looking man, with a determined expression, but of kind and friendly manners.
He must have been a skilful man of business, for all the great financial storms of the half century, in which he lived and worked, rolled over him without causing him any serious embarrassment.
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His note was always good, and his word was as good as his note.
He always seemed to have money enough for what he wanted to do. In prosperous times he spent generously, although habitually practising a kind of stoical severity in regard to his private affairs.
He considered luxury the bane of wealth, and continually admonished his children to avoid it. He was an old-fashioned
Puritan with liberal and progressive ideas.
After his marriage in 1843 to
Miss Abigail Frances Newell, of
Boston, he built a commodious house in a fine grove of chestnuts on a hill-side at East Walpole; and there he brought up his children like Greeks and Amazons.
Chestnut woods are commonly infested with hornets, but he directed us boys not to molest them, for he wished them to learn that hornets would not sting unless they were interfered with; an excellent principle in human nature.
Mrs. Bird resembled her husband so closely in face and figure, that they might have been mistaken for brother and sister.
She was an excellent
New England woman of the old style, and well adapted to make her husband comfortable and happy.
The connection between manufacturing and politics is a direct and natural one.
A man who employs thirty or forty workmen, and treats them fairly, can easily obtain an election to the
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Legislature without exercising any direct influence over them; but
Frank Bird's workmen felt that he had a personal interest in each one of them.
He never was troubled with strikes.
When hard times came his employees submitted to a reduction of wages without murmuring, and when business was good they shared again in the general prosperity.
As a consequence
Mr. Bird could go to the Legislature as often as he desired; and when he changed from the
Republican to the Democratic party, in 1872, they still continued to vote for him, until at the age of seventy-one he finally retired from public life.
On one election day he is said to have called his men together, and to have told them: “You will have two hours this afternoon to cast your votes in. The mill will close at 4 o'clock, and I expect every man to vote as I do. Now I am going to vote just as I please, and I hope you will all do the same; but if any one of my men does not vote just as he wants to, and I find it out, I will discharge him to-morrow.”
One can imagine
Abraham Lincoln making a speech like this, on a similar occasion.
Frank W. Bird, like
J. B. Sargent, of New Haven, was a rare instance of an American manufacturer who believed in free-trade.
This was one reason why he joined the Democratic party in 1872.
He considered that protection encouraged sleazy and fraudulent work, and
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placed honest manufacturers at a disadvantage; though he obtained these ideas rather from reading English magazines than from any serious study of his own. He was naturally much more of a Democrat than a Whig, or Federalist, but he opposed the doctrine of State Rights, declaring that it was much more responsible for the
Civil War than the antislavery agitation was.
The same political exigency which roused
James Russell Lowell also brought
Francis William Bird before the public.
In company with
Charles Francis Adams he attended the
Buffalo convention, in 1848, and helped to nominate
Martin Van Buren for the Presidency.
He was, however, doing more effective work by assisting
Elizur Wright in publishing the
Chronotype (the most vigorous of all the anti-slavery papers), both with money and writing; and in a written argument there were few who could equal him. He appears to have been the only person at that time who gave
Elizur Wright much support and encouragement.
In 1850
Bird was elected to the State Legislature and worked vigorously for the election of
Sumner the ensuing winter.
His chief associates during the past two years had been
Charles Francis Adams, the most distinguished of American diplomats since
Benjamin Franklin,
John A. Andrew, then a struggling lawyer,
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and
Henry L. Pierce, afterwards
Mayor of
Boston.
Now a greater name was added to them; for
Sumner was not only an eloquent orator, perhaps second to
Webster, but he had a worldwide reputation as a legal authority.
Adams, however, failed to recognize that like his grandfather he was living in a revolutionary epoch, and after the
Kansas struggle commenced he became continually more conservative — if that is the word for it-and finally in his Congressional speech in the winter of 1861 he made the fatal statement that personally he would be “in favor of permitting the
Southern States to secede,” although he could not see that there was any legal right for it. This acted as a divider between him and his former associates, until in 1876 he found himself again in the same party with
Frank W. Bird.
During the administration of
Governor Banks, that is, between 1857 and 1860,
Bird served on the
Governor's council, although generally in opposition to
Banks himself.
He went as a delegate to the Chicago Convention of 1860, where he voted at first for
Seward, and afterwards for
Lincoln.
From that time forward, until 1880, he was always to be found at the
State House, and devoted so much time to public affairs that it is a wonder his business of paper manufacturing did not suffer from it. Yet he always seemed to have plenty of time, and was never so
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much absorbed in what he was doing but that he could give a cordial greeting to any of his numerous friends.
His face would beam with pleasure at the sight of an old acquaintance, and I have known him to dash across the street like a school-boy in order to intercept a former member of the Legislature who was passing by on the other side.
Such a man has a good heart.
Frank Bird's abilities fitted him for higher positions than he ever occupied; but he was so serviceable in the Legislature that all his friends felt that he ought to remain there.
He was inexorable in his demand for honest government, and when he rose to speak all the guilty consciences in the house began to tremble.
He was the terror of the lobbyist, and of the legislative log-roller.
This made him many enemies, but he expected it and knew how to meet them.
He was especially feared while
Andrew was Governor, for every one knew that he had consulted with
Andrew before making his motion.
He was the
Governor's man of business.
He came to know the character of every politician in the
State,--what his opinions were, and how far he could be depended on. In this way he also became of great service to
Sumner and
Wilson, who wished to know what was taking place behind their backs while they were absent at
Washington.
Sumner did not trouble
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himself much as to public opinion, but this was of great importance to
Wilson, who depended on politics for his daily bread.
Both, however, wanted to know the condition of affairs in their own State, and they found that
Frank Bird's information was always trustworthy,--for he had no ulterior object of his own.
Thus he acquired much greater influence in public affairs than most of the members of Congress.
When
Mr. Baldwin, who represented his district, retired in 1868,
Frank Bird became a candidate for the National Legislature, but he suffered from the disadvantage of living at the small end of the district, and the prize was carried off by
George F. Hoar, afterwards
United States Senator; but going to Congress in the seventies was not what it had been in the fifties and sixties, when the halls of the
Capitol resounded with the most impressive oratory of the nineteenth century.
Frank Bird did not pretend to be an orator.
His speeches were frank, methodical and directly to the point; and very effective with those who could be influenced by reason, without appeals to personal prejudice.
He hated flattery in all its forms, and honestly confessed that the temptation of public speakers to cajole their audiences was the one great demon of a democratic government.
He liked
Wendell Phillips on account of the manly way in which
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he fought against his audiences, and strove to bring them round to his own opinion.
He was as single-minded as
Emerson or
Lincoln.
In November, 1862,
Emerson said to me: “I came from
Springfield the other day in the train with your father's friend,
Frank Bird, and I like him very much.
I often see his name signed to newspaper letters, and in future I shall always read them.”
Strangely enough, a few days later I was dining with
Mr. Bird and he referred to the same incident.
When I informed him that
Emerson had also spoken of it he seemed very much pleased.
If any one paid him a compliment or expressed gratitude for some act of kindness, he would hesitate and become silent for a moment, as if he were reflecting whether he deserved it or not; and then would go on to some other subject.
His acts of kindness were almost numberless.
He assisted those whom others would not assist; and if he suspected that a small officeholder was being tyrannized over, he would take no rest until he had satisfied himself of the truth of the case.
In February, 1870, he learned that a high official in the Boston Post-office, who was supported in his position by the
Governor of the
State, was taking advantage of this to levy a blackmail on his subordinates, compelling them to pay him a commission in order to retain
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their places.
Frank Bird was furious with honest indignation.
He said: “I will go to
Washington and have that man turned out if I have to see
Grant himself for it” ; and so he did.
One evening at
Walpole a poor woman came to him in distress, because her only son had been induced to enlist in the Navy, and was already on board a man-of-war at the
Boston Navy-yard.
Mr. Bird knew the youth, and was aware that he was very slightly feeble-minded.
The vessel would sail in three days, and there was no time to be lost.
He telegraphed the facts as briefly as possible to
Senator Wilson, and in twenty-four hours received an order to have the widow's son discharged.
Then he would not trust the order to the commandant, who might have delayed its execution, but sent it to an agent of his own in the
Navy-yard, who saw that the thing was done.
Frank Bird's most distinguished achievement in politics was the nomination of
Andrew for Governor in 1860.
Governor Banks was not favorable to
Andrew and his friends, and used what influence he possessed for the benefit of
Henry L. Dawes.
An organization for the nomination of
Dawes had already been secretly formed before
Frank Bird was acquainted with
Banks's retirement from the field.
Bird and
Henry L. Pierce were at
Plymouth when they first heard of it, about the middle of July, and
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they immediately returned to
Boston, started a bureau, opened a subscription-list, and with the cooperation of the
Bird Club carried the movement through.
It would have made a marked difference in public affairs during the
War for the
Union if
Dawes had been Governor instead of
Andrew.
1
Frank Bird had this peculiarity, that the more kindly he felt to those who were unfortunate in life, the more antagonistic he seemed to those who were exceptionally prosperous.
He appeared to have a sort of spite against handsome men and women, as if nature had been over-partial to them in comparison with others.
He was not a pedantic moralist, but at the same time rather exacting in his requirements of others, as he was of himself.
The Bird Club was evolved out of the conditions of its times, like a natural growth.
Its nucleus was formed in the campaign of 1848, when
Bird,
Andrew,
Henry L. Pierce, and
William S. Robinson fell into the habit of dining together and discussing public affairs every Saturday afternoon. It was not long before they were joined by
Elizur Wright and
Henry Wilson.
Sumner came to dine with them, when
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he was not in
Washington, and
Dr. S. G. Howe came with him. The Kansas excitement brought in
George L. Stearns and
Frank B. Sanborn,one the president and the other the secretary of the
Kansas Aid Society.
In 1860 the club had from thirty to forty members, and during the whole course of its existence it had more than sixty members; but it never had any regular organization.
A member could bring a friend with him, and if the friend was liked,
Mr. Bird would invite him to come again.
No vote ever appears to have been taken.
Mr. Bird sat at the head of the table, and if he was late or absent his place would be supplied by
George L. Stearns.
At his right hand sat
Governor Andrew, and either
Sumner or
Stearns on his left.
Doctor Howe and
Wilson sat next to them, and were balanced on the opposite side by
Sanborn,
Governor Washburn, and two or three members of Congress.
However, there was no systematic arrangement of the guests at this feast, although the more important members of the club naturally clustered about
Mr. Bird.
N. P. Banks never appeared there, either as Governor or General; and from this it was argued that he was ambitious to become
Senator; or it may have been owing to his differences with
Bird, while the latter was on the
Governor's Council.
In this way the
Bird Club became the test of a man's political opinion, and
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prominent politicians who absented themselves from it were looked upon with more or less distrust.
The discussions at the club were frank, manly, and unreserved.
Members who talked from the point were likely to be corrected without ceremony, and sometimes received pretty hard knocks.
On one occasion
General B. F. Butler, who had come into the club soon after his celebrated contraband-of-war order, was complaining that the
New York Republicans had nominated
General Francis C. Barlow for
Secretary of State, and that
General Barlow had not been long enough in the Republican party to deserve it, when
Robinson replied to him that
Barlow had been a Republican longer than some of those present, and
Frank Bird remarked that he was as good a Republican as any that were going.
Butler looked as if he had swallowed a pill.
William S. Robinson was at once the wit and scribe of the club, and the only newswriter that was permitted to come to the table.
He enjoyed the advantage of confidential talk and authentic information, which no other writer of that time possessed, and his letters to the Springfield
Republican, extending over a period of fifteen years, come next in value to the authentic documents of that important period.
They possessed the rare merit of a keen impartiality,
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and though sometimes rather sharp, were never far from the mark.
He not only criticised
Grant and the political bosses of that time, but his personal friends,
Sumner,
Wilson, and
Frank Bird himself.
In 1872
Emerson said to a member of the club: “I do not like
William Robinson.
His hand is against every man” ; but it is doubtful if
Robinson ever published so hard a criticism of any person, and certainly none so unjust.
Emerson without being aware of it was strongly influenced by a cabal for the overthrow of
Robinson, in which
General Butler took a leading hand.
Robinson was clerk of the State Senate, and could not afford to lose his position; afterwards, when he did lose it, he fell sick and died.
He preferred truth-telling and poverty to a compromising prosperity, and left no one to fill his place.
Frank B. Sanborn was for a time editor of the Boston
Commonwealth, and afterwards of the Springfield
Republican; but he was better known as the efficient
Secretary of the Board of State Charities, a position to which he was appointed by
Governor Andrew, and from which he was unjustly removed by
Governor Ames, twenty years later.
He was an indefatigable worker, and during that time there was not an almshouse or other institution, public or private, in the
State for the benefit of the
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unfortunate portion of mankind where he was not either feared or respected — a man whose active principle was the conscientious performance of duty.
He was also noted for his fidelity to his friends.
He cared for the family of
John Brown and watched over their interests as if they had been his own family; he made a home for the poet
Channing in his old age, and was equally devoted to the Alcotts and others, who could not altogether help themselves.
He was himself a charitable institution.
Henry Wilson is also worth a passing notice, for the strange resemblance of his life to
President Lincoln's, if for no other reason.
His name was originally
Colbath, and he was reputed to have been born under a barbery-bush in one of the green lanes of
New Hampshire.
The name is an exceptional one, and the family would seem to have been of the same roving Bedouin-like sort as that of
Lincoln's ancestors.
He began life as a shoemaker, was wholly selfeducated, and changed his name to escape from his early associations.
He would seem to have absorbed all the virtue in his family for several generations.
No sooner had he entered into politics than he was recognized to have a master hand.
He rose rapidly to the highest position in the gift of his State, and finally to be VicePresident.
If his health had not given way in 1873 he might even have become
President in the
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place of
Hayes; for he was a person whom every man felt that he could trust.
His loyalty to
Sumner bordered on veneration, and was the finest trait in his character.
There was no pretense in
Henry Wilson's patriotism; everyone felt that he would have died for his country.
In 1870
General Butler disappeared from the club, to the great relief of
Sumner and his immediate friends.
He had already shown the cloven foot by attacking the financial credit of the government; and the question was, what would he do next?
He had found the club an obstacle to his further advancement in politics, and when in the autumn campaign
Wendell Phillips made a series of attacks on the character of the club, and especially on
Bird himself, the hand of
Butler was immediately recognized in it, and his plans for the future were easily calculated.
It is probable that
Phillips supposed he was doing the public a service in this, but the methods he pursued were not much to his credit.
Phillips learned that the president of the
Hartford and Erie Railroad had recently given
Mr. Bird an Alderney bull-calf, and as he could not find anything else against
Bird's character he made the most of this.
He spoke of it as of the nature of a legislative bribe, and in an oration delivered in the
Boston Music Hall he called it “a thousand dollars in blood.”
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“Who,” he asked of his audience, “would think of exchanging a
bird for a bull?”
This was unfortunate for the calf, which lost its life in consequence; but it was not worth more than ten dollars, and the contrast between the respective reputations of
General Butler and
Mr. Bird made
Wendell Phillips appear in rather a ridiculous light.
The following year, 1871, as the
Bird Club expected,
General Butler made a strong fight for the gubernatorial nomination, and the club opposed him in a solid body.
Sanborn at this time was editing the Springfield
Republican, and he exposed
Butler's past political course in an unsparing manner.
Butler made speeches in all the cities and larger towns of the
State, and when he came to
Springfield he singled out
Sanborn, whom he recognized in the audience, for a direct personal attack.
Sanborn rose to reply to him, and the contrast between the two men was like that between
Lincoln and
Douglas;
Sanborn six feet four inches in height, and
Butler much shorter, but very thick-set.
The altercation became a warm one, and
Butler must have been very angry, for he grew red in the face and danced about the platform as if the boards were hot under his feet.
The audience greeted both speakers with applause and hisses.
It was a decided advantage for
General Butler that there were three other candidates in the
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field; but both
Sumner and
Wilson brought their influence to bear against him, and this, with
Sanborn's telling editorials, would seem to have decided his defeat; for when the final struggle came at the
Worcester Convention the vote was a very close one and a small matter might have changed it in his favor.
The difference between
Sumner and the administration, in 1872, on the
San Domingo question accomplished what
Phillips and
Butler were unable to effect.
Frank Bird and
Sumner's more independent friends left the club, which was then dining at Young's Hotel, and seceded to the
Parker House, where
Sumner joined them not long afterwards.
Senator Wilson and the more deep-rooted Republicans formed a new organization called the
Massachusetts Club, which still existed in the year 1900.
The great days of the
Bird Club were over.
With the death of
Sumner, in 1874, its political importance came to an end, and although its members continued to meet for five or six years longer, it ceased to attract public attention.
At the age of eighty
Frank W. Bird still directed the financial affairs of his paper business, but he looked back on his life as a “wretched failure.”
No matter how much he accomplished, it seemed to him as nothing compared with what he had wished to do. Would there were more such failures!