carried
them sometimes farther, in my judgment, than a scrupulous
sense of honor would warrant, or than was consistent with
the noble, frank, lofty behavior which Massachusetts and the
American people expect of their statesmen. The most conspicuous
instance of this was his joining the Know Nothing Party, in
whose intolerance he had no belief.

But it was done as an instrument for destroying the existing
political parties, which were an obstacle to freedom, and
clearing the field for a new one. This object was successfully
accomplished, and in its accomplishment Wilson had a large
share. But it was, in my judgment, doing evil that good may
come. Wilson freely admitted this before he died, and said--
I have no doubt with absolute sincerity--that he would give
ten years of his life if he could blot out that one transaction.

He was a very valuable legislator. He was the author of many
important measures in the war, during which he was chairman
of the Committee on Military Affairs of the Senate, and showed
much ability in the way of practical and constructive statesmanship.
I do not believe any man in the Senate in his time, not even
Sumner, had more influence over his colleagues than he.

There was not a drop of bigotry, intolerance, or personal
hatred in him. As you would expect from a man who raised
himself from the humblest to the loftiest place in the republic,
he was a believer in pure manhood, without respect of persons
or conditions.

He was a powerful stump orator. He never made speeches that
were quoted as models of eloquence or wisdom. But he knew
what the farmer and the mechanic and the workman at his bench
were thinking of, and addressed himself always to their best
and highest thought. He was a great vote-making speaker.
When Mechanics Hall, in Worcester, or the City Hall was filled
to hear Henry Wilson in a close campaign, many men who entered
the hall undecided or against him, went away to take earnest
part on his side.

He had a good many angry political strifes. But he never
bore malice or seemed to keep angry over night. General Butler
once wrote him a letter pouring out on his head the invective
of which he was so conspicuous a master. Wilson brought the
letter into the office of a dear friend of mine in Boston
when I happened to be there, handed it to us to read, and
observed: "That is a cussed mean letter." I do not think
he ever spoke of it or scarcely thought of it again.

Bu