the leading “hunkers” who had deputed him to state their case to me. After considerable conversation, which perhaps was not satisfactory to Mr. Cushing, he put this question to me, and with great emphasis: “What I wish to know, Governor, is whether this State is to be ‘shoemakerized’ or not?” With a laugh I said, “General, I cannot tell, whether it is to be ‘shoemakerized’ or not.” Upon this the general left. When he had had interviews with Greene and Hallett, he became anxious for Sumner’s defeat; when he was with the coalitionists he would become, in a measure, reconciled to his election. The truth was, Cushing was destitute of convictions. By his residence in the East he had lost faith in our religion, in our civilization, and, in a degree, in our political system. However, he had no stronger faith in any other system. His purposes were not bad, and his disposition to aid others was a charming feature of his character. He would oblige an associate whenever he could do so. As a legislator he would perfect bills that he did not approve, and his stores of knowledge were at the service of any one who chose to make requests of him. Indeed he often volunteered information and suggestions. His reading was so vast and his experience so great, that his professional arguments were often over-loaded. As a jurist his influence with courts was limited. He did not aid the judicial mind. It was seldom necessary for the court to either accept or answer his arguments. On one occasion, he commenced an argument to the Supreme Court of Massachusetts with the obscure philosophical observation: “An impossibility is the greatest possible fact.”
General Cushing was learned in many ways, but his faculties were not practical, and he was too much inclined to adhere to the existing powers, and consequently he was ready to change whenever a new party or a new set of men attained authority. As an official, he would obey instructions, and
