Nevertheless, the speech of the Secretary of State cut deeply. Evarts represented an Administration which had removed Cornell that "the office may be properly and efficiently administered." Now, he endorsed him for governor, ridiculed Republicans that opposed him, and pointed unmistakably to Grant as the "strong man" who could best maintain the power of the people.[899]TheNationspoke of Evarts' appearance as "indecent."[900]Curtis was not less severe. "Both his appearance and his speech are excellent illustrations of the reason why the political influence of so able and excellent a man is so slight. Mr. Evarts, musing on the folly of voting in the air, may remember the arrow of which the poet sings, which was shot into the air and found in the heart of an oak. It is hearts of oak, not of bending reeds, that make and save parties."[901]
Talk of a secret alliance between Tammany and the Cornell managers began very early in the campaign. Perhaps the fulsome praise of John Kelly in Republican journals, the constant support of John F. Smyth by Tammany senators, and Kelly's avowed intention to defeat Robinson, were sufficient to arouse suspicion. Conkling's sudden silence as to the danger threatening free elections, of which he declaimed so warmly in April, seemedto indicate undue satisfaction with existing conditions. To several newspapers the action of two Republican police commissioners, who championed Tammany's right to its share of poll inspectors, pointed unmistakably to a bargain, since it gave Tammany and the Republicans power to select a chairman at each poll.[902]Evidence of a real alliance, however, was nebulous. The defeat of Robinson meant the election of Cornell, and Republicans naturally welcomed any effort to accomplish it. They greeted Kelly, during his tour of the State, with noise and music, crowded his meetings, and otherwise sought to dishearten Robinson's friends. Although Kelly's speeches did not compare in piquancy with his printed words, his references to Tilden as the "old humbug of Cipher Alley" and to Robinson as having "sore eyes" when signing bills, kept his hearers expectant and his enemies disturbed. TheWorldfollowed him, reporting his speeches as "failures" and his audiences as "rushing pell-mell from the building."[903]
Kelly did not mean to dish the whole Democratic ticket. He expected to elect the minor State officers. But he learned on the morning after election that he had entirely miscalculated the effect of his scheme, since every Democrat except the nephew of Horatio Seymour rested in the party morgue by the side of Lucius Robinson.[904]Inthe city Kelly also disappointed his followers. His own vote ran behind Robinson's, and all his friends were slaughtered. Indeed, when Tammany surrendered its regularity at Syracuse it lost its voting strength. Even Cornell whom it saved ran 20,000 behind his ticket. The election was, in fact, a triumph for nobody except Conkling. He had put into the highest State office a personal adherent, whom the Administration had stigmatised by dismissal; he had brought to New York his principal opponents in the Cabinet (Evarts and Sherman) to speak for his nominee and their dismissed servant; and he had induced the Administration to call for a "strong man" for the Presidency.[905]
WhileGeneral Grant made his tour around the world there was much speculation respecting his renomination for the Presidency. Very cautiously started on the ground of necessity because of the attitude of the Southerners in Congress, the third-term idea continued to strengthen until the widespread and deep interest in the great soldier's home-coming was used to create the belief that he was unmistakably the popular choice. Grant himself had said nothing publicly upon the subject except in China, and his proper and modest allusions to it then added to the people's respect. But during the welcome extended him at Philadelphia, the Mayor of that city disclosed a well-laid plan to make him a candidate. This frank declaration indicated also that Grant expected the nomination, if, indeed, he was not a party to the scheme for securing it.
The question of discrediting the traditions quickly became a serious one, and its discussion, stimulated by other aspirants for the Presidency, took a wide range. The opponents of a third term did not yield to any in their grateful remembrance and recognition of what Grant had done for the country, but they deemed it impolitic upon both public and party grounds. If the tradition of two terms be overthrown because of his distinguished service, they argued, his election for a fourth term, to which the Constitution offered no bar, could be urged for the same reason with still more cogency. Such apparently logical action would not only necessarily familiarise the public mind, already disturbed by the increasing depression to businesscaused by the turmoil incident to quadrennial elections, with the idea of a perpetual Presidency, but it would foster confidence in personal government, and encourage the feeling that approved experience, as in the case of trusted legislators, is necessary to the continuance of wise administration.
Party reasons also furnished effective opposition. German voters, especially in New York and Wisconsin, early disclosed an indisposition to accept Grant even if nominated, while the Independent or Scratcher voiced a greater hostility than the Cornell nomination had excited. Never before had so much attention been given to a political question by persons ordinarily indifferent to such speculation. Anti-Grant clubs, springing up in a night, joined the press in ridiculing the persistent talk about the need of "a strong man," and charged that the scheme was conceived by a coterie of United States senators, managed by former office-holders under President Grant, and supported by men who regarded the Hayes administration as an impertinence. Matthew Hale, in accepting the presidency of the Albany Club, declared the movement to be at war with American traditions and with the spirit of American institutions.[906]
Such acrimonious antagonism quickly uncovered the purpose of the Stalwarts, who now sought to control the nomination regardless of opposition. For this purpose unusually early conventions for the selection of delegates to the National Convention, to be held at Chicago on June 2, were called in Pennsylvania, New York, and other States. Pennsylvania's was fixed for February 4 at Harrisburg, and New York's for the 25th at Utica. Like methods obtained in the selection of delegates. At Albany John F. Smyth issued a call in the evening for primaries to be held the next day at noon, and furnished his followers with pink coloured tickets, headed "Grant." Smyth was already in bad odour. Governor Robinson had accused him of compelling illegal payments by insurance companies of a largesum of money, to which he replied that the act making it illegal was unconstitutional, although no court had so pronounced. His misdemeanour was confirmed in the public mind by the fact, elicited on the impeachment trial, that the money so obtained had been divided among agents of the Republican organisation. Indeed, theTimescharged, without reservation, that in one case the place of division was in none other than the house of Cornell himself.[907]Although the Senate of 1878 and of 1879 failed to remove Smyth, the Senate of 1880, notwithstanding his reappointment by Governor Cornell, refused to confirm him.[908]In the presence of such a sorry record the ostracised Albany Republicans were not surprised at his attempt to cheat them at the primaries, and their indignation at the shameless procedure resounded through the State. At the end of a week Charles Emory Smith, the gifted editor of the AlbanyJournal, who headed the delegation thus selected, deemed it expedient to withdraw. Five associates did likewise. Nevertheless, the opponents of a third term refused to participate in a second election, called to fill the vacancies, since it did not remove the taint from the majority who refused to resign.
In reward for his defence of Smyth, if not to express contempt for the Albany malcontents, Charles Emory Smith was made chairman of the Utica convention. This evidenced Conkling's complete control. Smith had lived in Albany since early boyhood. He passed from its Academy to Union College, thence back to the Academy as a teacher, and from that position to the editorship of theExpress. In a few years his clear, incisive English, always forcible, often eloquent, had advanced him to the editorship of theEvening Journal. Singularly attractive in person, with slender, agile form, sparkling eyes, and ruddy cheeks, headorned whatever place he held. Indeed, the beauty and strength of his character, coupled with the esteem in which Republican leaders held him as a counsellor, gave him in the seventies a position in the politics of the State somewhat akin to that held by Henry J. Raymond in the sixties. He did not then, if ever, belong in Raymond's class as a journalist or as an orator. Nor did he possess the vehement desire for office that distinguished the brilliant editor of theTimes. But Smith's admirable temper, his sweet disposition, and his rare faculty for saying things without offence, kept him, like Raymond, on friendly terms with all. His part was not always an easy one. Leaders changed and new issues appeared, yet his pen, though sometimes crafty, was never dipped in gall. While acting as secretary for Governor Fenton he enjoyed the esteem of Edwin D. Morgan, and if his change from the AlbanyExpressto the AlbanyJournalin 1870, and from theJournalto the PhiladelphiaPressin 1880, carried him from Fenton's confidence into Conkling's embrace and converted him from an ardent third-termer to a champion of Blaine, the bad impression of this prestidigitation was relieved, if not excused or forgotten, because of his journalistic promotion.
In State conventions, too, Smith played the part formerly assigned to Raymond, becoming by common consent chairman of the Committee on Resolutions. His ear went instinctively to the ground, and, aided by Carroll E. Smith of the SyracuseJournal, he wrote civil service reform into the platform of 1877, the principle of sound money into that of 1878, and carefully shaded important parts of other platforms in that eventful decade.[909]In like manner, although a pronounced champion of Conkling and the politics he represented, Smith encouraged moderate policies, urged frank recognition of the just claims of the minority, and sought to prevent the stalwart managers from too widely breaching the proprieties that should govern political organisations. If his efforts proved unavailing, it seemed that he had at least mastered the art of being regular without being bigoted, and of living on good terms with a machine whose methods he could not wholly approve. Nevertheless, there came a time when his associations, as in the career of Raymond, seriously injured him, since his toleration and ardent defence of John F. Smyth, besides grieving sincere friends and temporarily clouding his young life,[910]dissolved his relations with a journal that he loved, and which, under his direction, had reminded its readers of the forceful days of Thurlow Weed. Fortunately, the offer of the editorship of the PhiladelphiaPress, coming contemporaneously with his separation from the AlbanyJournal, gave him an honourable exit from New York, and opened not only a larger sphere of action but a more distinguished career.[911]
Having control of the convention Conkling boldly demanded the adoption of a resolution instructing "the delegates to use their most earnest and united efforts to secure the nomination of Ulysses S. Grant." The admirers of Blaine seemed unprepared for such a contest. The meagremajority given Grant at the Pennsylvania convention had greatly encouraged them, but the intervening three weeks afforded insufficient time to gather their strength. Besides, no one then suspected the overwhelming public sentiment against a third term which was soon to sweep the country. As it was no one seemed to have definite plans or a precise knowledge of how to proceed or what to do, while local leaders frittered away their strength in petty quarrels which had little bearing upon the question of Presidential candidates. Finally, an amendment simply endorsing the nominee of the Chicago convention was offered as a substitute for the Grant resolution.
The Stalwarts, with the steadiness of veterans conscious of their strength, deftly, almost delicately, in fact, silenced the minority. Only once, when the reader of the resolutions hesitated over an illegible word, did the dramatic happen. At that moment a thin voice in the gallery exclaimed, "Hurrah for Blaine!" Instantly the audience was on fire. The burst of applause brought out by Smith's opening reference to the "never vanquished hero of Appomattox" had been disappointing because it lacked spontaneity and enthusiasm, but the sound of the magic word "Blaine," like a spark flying to powder, threw the galleries into a flame of cheering which was obstinate in dying out. Conkling, in closing the debate on the resolution, showed his customary audacity by hurling bitter sarcasm at the people who had presumed to applaud. It was in this address that he recited Raleigh's famous line fromThe Silent Lover: "The shallows murmur but the deeps are dumb."[912]
Conkling's purpose was to put district delegates upon their honour to obey the convention's instructions regardless of the preference of their districts. He did it very adroitly, arguing that a delegate is an agent with a principal behind him, whom he represents if he is faithful."For what is this convention held?" he asked. "Is it merely to listen while the delegates from the several congressional districts inform the convention who the districts are going to send to the national convention? Is it for that five hundred men, the selected pride of the Republican party of this State, have come here to meet together? I think not. Common sense and the immemorial usages of both parties answer the question. What is the use of a delegate? Is it a man to go to a convention representing others, and then determine as he individually prefers what he will do? Let me say frankly that if any man, however much I respect him, were presented to this convention who would prove recreant to its judgment, I would never vote for him as a delegate to any convention."[913]
Earlier in the day Newton M. Curtis of St. Lawrence, the one-eyed hero of Fort Fisher, had insisted with much vehemence that district delegates represented the views of their immediate constituents and not those of the State convention. Others as stoutly maintained the same doctrine. But after Conkling had concluded no one ventured to repeat the claim.[914]Indeed, when the several districts reported their delegates, the Stalwarts openly called upon the suspected ones to say whether they submitted to the instructions. Woodin and Curtis voluntarily surrendered. Thus the Grant forces accomplished by indirection what prudence deterred them from doing boldly and with a strong hand.[915]
What the managers gained by indirection, however, they lost in prestige. If the Harrisburg convention punctured the assumption that the people demanded Grant's nomination, the Utica assembly destroyed it, since the majority of thirty-three indicated an entire absence of spontaneity. Moreover, the convention had scarcely adjourned before its work became a target. George William Curtis declared theassertion "audacious" and "ridiculous" that a district delegate was an agent of the State convention, claiming that when the latter relinquished the right to select it abandoned the right to instruct. Furthermore, the National Convention, the highest tribunal of the party, had decided, he said, that State instructions did not bind district delegates.[916]TheTribune, voicing the sentiment of the major part of the Republican press, thought the convention had clearly exceeded its power. "It was the right of the majority to instruct the delegates-at-large," it said, "but it had no right to compel district delegates to vote against their consciences and the known wishes of their constituents." This led to the more important question whether delegates, pledged without authority, ought to observe such instructions. "No man chosen to represent a Blaine district can vote for Grant and plead the convention's resolution in justification of his course," continued theTribune, which closed with serving notice upon delegates to correct their error as speedily as possible, "since a delegate who disobeys the instructions of his constituents will find himself instantly retired from public life."[917]
As the campaign waxed warmer and the success of Grant seemed more certain if Pennsylvania and New York voted under the unit rule, the pressure to create a break in those States steadily increased. The Stalwarts rested their case upon the regularity of the procedure and the delegates' acceptance of the instructions after their election. "They accepted both commissions and instructions," said theTimes, "with every protestation that they were bound by their sacred honour to obey the voice of the people as expressed by the traditional and accepted methods."[918]On the other hand, the Blaine delegates relied upon the decision of the last National Convention, which held that where a State convention had instructed its delegation to vote as a unit, each delegate had the right to vote for his individualpreference. "My selection as a delegate," said Woodin, "was the act of the delegates representing my congressional district, and the State convention has ratified and certified that act to the National Convention. Our commissions secure the right to act, and our conventions guarantee freedom of choice without restraint or fetters."[919]
Woodin was the most courageous if not the ablest opponent of Conkling in the convention. He may not have been an organiser of the machine type, but he was a born ruler of men. Robust, alert, florid, with square forehead, heavy brows, and keen blue eyes, he looked determined and fearless. His courage, however, was not the rashness of an impetuous nature. It was rather the proud self-confidence of a rugged character which obstacles roused to a higher combative energy. He was not eloquent; not even ornate in diction. But his voice, his words, and his delivery were all adequate. Besides, he possessed the incomparable gift of reserved power. During his career of ten years in the State Senate he was unquestionably the strongest man in the Legislature and the designated as well as the real leader for more than half a decade. He was not intolerant, seldom disclosing his powers of sarcasm, or being betrayed, even when excited, into angry or bitter words. Yet he was extremely resolute and tenacious, and must have been the undisputed leader of the anti-Conkling forces save for the pitch that many said defiled him. If he yielded it was not proven. Nevertheless, it tended to mildew his influence.
It was evident from the speech of Woodin that the anti-Grant forces had the reasonableness of the argument, but the acceptance of the Utica instructions put delegates in a delicate position. To say that Conkling had "tricked" them into a pledge which the convention had no authority to exact,[920]did not explain how a personal pledge could be avoided. Finally, William H. Robertson, a delegate fromthe Twelfth District, who had not appeared at Utica, published a letter that he should vote for Blaine "because he is the choice of the Republicans of the district which I represent."[921]Two days afterwards John Birdsall of the First District and Loren B. Sessions of the Thirty-third announced on the floor of the Senate that they should do likewise. Woodin said that as he could not reconcile a vote for some candidate other than Grant with his attitude voluntarily taken at Utica he should let his alternate go to Chicago.[922]From time to time other delegates followed with declarations similar to Robertson's.
As expected, this disobedience drew a volley of anathemas upon the offending delegates, who became known as "Half-breeds."[923]TheTimesthought Robertson's "tardy revolt" dictated by "self-interest," because "the pliant politician from Westchester had chafed under a sense of disappointed ambition ever since the defeat of his nomination for governor in 1872."[924]
Upon Sessions and Woodin it was more severe. "We have never regarded State Senator Sessions as a type of all that is corrupt in politics at Albany," it said, "and we have steadily defended Mr. Woodin against the attacks made upon him on the testimony of Tweed. But if these recent accessions to the Blaine camp are half as bad as theTribunehas painted them in the past, that journal and its candidate must have two as disreputable allies as could be found outside of state prison."[925]Woodin's manner of avoiding his Utica pledge seemed to arouse more indignation than the mere breaking of it. TheTimescalled it "a sneaking fashion,"[926]and charged lack of courage. "He does not believe that he who performs an act through another is himself responsible for the act."[927]
At Chicago the principle of district representation became the important question. It involved the admission of many delegates, and after two days of debate the convention sustained it by a vote of 449 to 306.[928]To complete the overthrow of the unit-rule a resolution was also adopted providing that when any delegate excepted to the correctness of a vote as cast by the chairman of a delegation, the president of the convention should direct a roll-call of the delegation. This practically settled the result. Nevertheless, the belief obtained, so strong was the Stalwarts' faith in their success, that when the Blaine and Sherman forces broke to a compromise candidate, Grant would gain the needed additional seventy-four votes.
Conkling had never before attended a national convention. Indeed, he had never been seen at a great political gathering west of the Alleghanies. But he now became the central figure of the convention, with two-fifths of the delegates rallying under his leadership. His reception whenever he entered the hall was the remarkable feature of the great gathering. Nothing like it had occurred in previous national conventions. Distinguished men representing favourite candidates had been highly honoured, but never before did the people continue, day after day, to welcome one with such vociferous acclaim. It was not all for Grant. The quick spontaneous outburst of applause that shook the banners hanging from the girders far above, had in it much of admiration for the stalwart form, the dominant spirit, the iron-nerved boss, who led his forces with the arrogance of a gifted, courageous chieftain. His coming seemed planned for dramatic effect. He rarely appeared until the audience, settled into order by the opening prayer or by the transaction of business, might easily catch sight of him, and as he passed down the long aisle, moving steadily on with graceful stride and immobile face, a flush of pride tingedhis cheeks as cheer after cheer, rolling from one end of the amphitheatre to the other, rent the air. He sat in the front row on the centre aisle, and about him clustered Chester A. Arthur, Levi P. Morton, Benjamin F. Tracy, Edwards Pierrepont, George H. Sharpe, and the boyish figure of Charles E. Cornell, a pale, sandy, undersized youth, the son of the Governor, who was represented by an alternate.[929]
Conkling's presentation of Grant was largely relied upon to gain the needed votes. Prior to 1876 little importance attached to such speeches, but after the famous oration of Robert G. Ingersoll at Cincinnati, which became influential almost to the point of success, the solicitude exhibited in the selection of dominating speakers constituted a new phase in convention politics and added immeasurably to the popular interest. By common consent Conkling was named to present the Stalwarts' choice, and in most of the qualities desirable in such an address his was regarded the best of the day.
The lines of Private Miles O'Reilly,[930]suggested to the Senator on the evening before he spoke, caught the convention as quickly as did Ingersoll's opening sentences in 1876, and all that followed, save his sarcasm and flashes of scorn, held the closest attention. "His unmatched eloquence," said Brandegee of Connecticut.[931]This was the judgment of an opponent. "It had the warmth of eulogy,the finish of a poem, the force and fire of a philippic," said theInter-Ocean.[932]This was the judgment of a friend. All the art of which he was master found expression in every sentence, polished and balanced with rhetorical skill, and delivered with the emphasis and inflection of a great orator. One critic thought it a revelation to find a man who could be eloquent with studied composure, who could be fervid without wildness, and who could hold imagery and metaphor to the steady place of relentless logic without detracting from their special and peculiar character.
Not content with reciting the achievements of his own candidate, Conkling seriously weakened his oration as a vote-making speech by launching shafts of irony first into Sherman and then into Blaine. "Nobody is really worried about a third term," he said in conclusion, "except those hopelessly longing for a first term. Without patronage, without telegraph wires running from his house to this convention, without election contrivances, his name is on the country's lips. Without bureaus, committees, officers, or emissaries to manufacture sentiment in his favour, without intrigue or effort, Grant is the candidate whose supporters stand by the creed of the party, holding the right of the majority as the very essence of their faith, and meaning to uphold that faith against the charlatans and guerillas, who, from time to time, deploy and forage between the lines."[933]As these sabre-cuts, dealt with the emphasis of gesture and inflection, flashed upon the galleries, already charmed with the accomplishment of his speech and the grace of his sentiment, loud hisses, mingled with distracting exclamations of banter and dissent, proclaimed that the spell of his magic was broken.
Balloting for a candidate began on the fifth day. Many rumours preceded Conkling's method of announcing New York's vote, but when his turn came, he explained that although he possessed full instructions concerning the truecondition of the vote, he thought it better to call the roll, since several of the delegates preferred to speak for themselves. This plan, so adroitly submitted, made it impossible to conceal one's vote behind an anonymous total, and compelled John Birdsall, the Queens County senator, to lead in the disagreeable duty of disobeying the instructions of the State convention. Birdsall rose with hesitation, and, after voting for Blaine in a subdued voice, dropped quickly into his seat as if anxious to avoid publicity. Then the convention, having listened in perfect silence, ratified his work with a chorus of hisses and applause. Gradually the anti-third termers exhibited more courage, and after Robertson and Husted had called out their candidate with an emphasis that indicated pride and defiance, the applause drowned the hisses. Woodin's conduct contrasted sharply with his usual courage. He was an aggressive member of the opposition, but at this moment, when brave hearts, unflinching resolve, and unruffled temper were needed, he stood at the rear of the hall, while Leander Fitts, his alternate, upon whom he cast the responsibility of violating a solemnly uttered pledge, feebly pronounced the name "Blaine." The result of the roll-call gave Grant 51, Blaine 17, and Sherman 2.[934]On the seventeenth ballot Dennis McCarthy, a State senator from Onondaga, changed his vote from Grant to Blaine. Thus modified the New York vote continued until the thirty-sixth ballot, when the Blaine and Sherman delegates united, recording twenty votes for Garfield to fifty for Grant. On this roll-call Grant received 306 votes to 399 for Garfield.[935]Thus by a strange coincidence theStalwarts registered the fateful number that marked their strength when the unit rule was defeated. During the thirty-six roll-calls Grant's vote varied from 302 to 313, but in the stampede, when two hundred and fifteen Blaine men and ninety-six supporters of Sherman rushed into line for Garfield, the faithful 306 went down in defeat together. These figures justly became an insignia for the heroic.[936]
After Garfield's nomination the Stalwarts of the New York delegation did not conceal their disappointment. When everybody else was cheering they kept their seats, and while others displayed Garfield badges, they sullenly sought their headquarters to arrange for the Vice-Presidency. Leaders of the Garfield movement, now eager to strengthen the ticket, looked to them for a candidate. New York belonged in the list of doubtful States, and to enlist the men who seemed to control its destiny they instinctively turned to the defeated faction. William M. Dennison, a former governor of Ohio, promptly made their wishes known, confidently counting upon Conkling's coöperation, since the Senator had been the first on his feet to make Garfield's nomination unanimous. In doing so he expressed the hope that the zeal and fervour of the convention would characterise its members "in bearing the banner and carrying the lances of the Republican party into the ranks of the enemy."
Conkling's treatment of Dennison's request has been variously reported. One version is that he demanded the nomination of Chester A. Arthur; another, that he sternly refused to make any suggestion. Contemporary press reports confirm the first, basing it upon his desire to vindicateArthur and humiliate Sherman; the second is supported by Alfred R. Conkling's biography of his uncle.[937]But neither report is correct. Conkling bitterly resented Garfield's nomination, predicted his defeat at the polls, and did not hesitate to dissuade friends from accepting the nomination for Vice-President. "The convention has nominated a candidate, but not a President," he said to Stewart L. Woodford. "Since the nomination I have heard from an influential friend at Albany, who declares that Garfield cannot carry New York. Now, the question is, whom shall we place upon the altar as a vicarious sacrifice? Mr. Morton has declined. Perhaps you would like the nomination for Vice-President?" Being assured that Woodford would accept it if tendered to him, Conkling added: "I hope no sincere friend of mine will accept it."[938]
In the event of Grant's nomination Levi P. Morton had been prominently mentioned as a proper candidate for Vice-President. He was then fifty-six years of age, and had achieved high reputation in banking and financial circles. Though not eloquent according to the canons of oratory, he spoke with clearness, was widely intelligent, and had given careful attention to public questions. Conservative in his nature and sturdy in his principles, he always advised against rashness and counselled firmness. A single session in Congress had proven his zeal in the performance of public duty, and his fitness for Vice-President was recognised then as it was eight years later when he became the running mate of Benjamin Harrison. Upon his nomination, therefore, Garfield, before the convention had recessed, sent word by Dennison that he desired Morton nominated for second place. Morton, answering that his nomination must not be made without previous consultation with hisassociates, immediately informed Conkling of Garfield's desire. Conkling replied, "If you think the ticket will be elected; if you think you will be happy in the association, accept." To this Morton answered, "I have more confidence in your judgment than in my own." Conkling then added: "Governor Boutwell of Massachusetts is a great friend of yours. Why don't you talk with him?" Acting upon this suggestion Morton sought Boutwell, who advised against it. Morton acquiesced and refused the use of his name.[939]
After returning to their headquarters at the hotel the Stalwarts, upon the suggestion and insistence of George H. Sharpe, quickly agreed upon Chester A. Arthur, who gave an affirmative response to their appeal. Conkling was not present at the time, but subsequently in Arthur's room, where Howard Carroll and several other delegates lingered, he bitterly opposed placing a Stalwart upon the ticket and expressed in unmeasured terms his disapprobation of Arthur's acceptance.[940]On their way to the convention Sharpe told Woodford of the pungent flavour of Conkling's invective, and of Arthur's calm assertion of the propriety of his action. At the wigwam Conkling refused Sharpe's request to place Arthur in nomination.[941]
Upon the reassembling of the convention California presented Elihu B. Washburne for Vice-President, a nomination which Dennis McCarthy of New York, amidst cordial and hearty applause from the galleries, seconded in a forceful speech. This indicated that Arthur waspersona non gratato the anti-Grant delegates of the Empire State. Jewell of Connecticut, Ferry of Michigan, Settle of North Carolina, and Maynard of Tennessee, were likewise presented. As the call of States proceeded New York made no response in its turn, but when Woodford subsequently proposed the name of Arthur, Dennison responded with aspirited second, followed by delegates from New Jersey, Illinois, Mississippi, Maryland, Missouri, Kentucky, and Pennsylvania. This array of backing brought McCarthy to his feet, who withdrew his second to Washburne and moved that Arthur's nomination, under a suspension of the rules, be made by acclamation. This required a two-thirds vote and was lost. Then Campbell of West Virginia, amidst the loudest cheers of the evening, seconded the nomination of Washburne. "Let us not do a rash thing." he said. "The convention has passed a resolution favouring civil service reform. Let us not stultify ourselves before the country."[942]
At first Arthur's strength was confined to the Grant delegation, twenty-five States showing an increase of only seventy votes, thirty of which came from the South. But as the roll-call proceeded New York, Ohio, and Pennsylvania brought other States into line, the ballot giving Arthur 468, Washburne 193, and other favourite sons 90.
Arthur's nomination was a distinct disappointment. To many it was an offence. Within the State leading Republican journals resented it by silence, while others were conspicuously cold; without the State it encountered even greater disadvantages, since his dismissal as collector of customs had advertised him as the enemy of reform, the apostle of bossism, and the friend of whatever was objectionable in politics.[943]Yet his friends found a creditable record. He had successfully opposed the well-known action of Jonathan Lemmon, who sought to recover eight slaves which he incautiously brought into New York on his way from Virginia to Texas; he had established the right of coloured people to ride in the street-cars; and he had rendered valuable service in the early years of the war as engineer-in-chief and quartermaster-general on the staff of GovernorMorgan. He possessed, too, an inherited instinct for keeping faith with men. In his relations with politicians of high or low degree there was not a trace of dissimulation or double-dealing. His career is a study of the evolution of character. It is not strange, perhaps, that in the days of custom-house investigations and bitter partisan strife, when he was known as an henchman of Conkling, there was a lack of public appreciation of the potentialities of a unique personality, but the Arthur heritage included then as afterward absolute truthfulness, shrewdness of judgment, high-minded patriotism, and consciousness of moral obligation.[944]
Thedefeat of Governor Robinson did not apparently change party sentiment respecting Tilden's renomination for the Presidency. No other candidate was seriously discussed. Indeed, the Democratic press continued to treat it as a matter of course, coupling with it the alleged subversion of an election, transcending in importance all questions of administration, and involving the vital principle of self-government through elections by the people. This new issue, dwarfing all other policies, had been for three years the cornerstone of every Democratic platform in state, county, or congressional convention. No argument seemed to weaken it, no event could destroy it. The Republican claim that the vote of three Southern States, as declared at the polls, was the result of terrorism and did not in any sense represent an honest expression of the popular will, made no impression upon it. The well-known fact that Congress, because of the confusion of the situation, had wisely sought a remedy in the Electoral Commission, which was passed by Democratic rather than Republican votes, in nowise weakened the force of its appeal. Not even did the disclosure that Tilden's house had become the headquarter of confidential agents, who sought to corrupt the electors, produce any change in it. The one declaration, patiently and persistently kept before the people, was that Tilden had been elected by the popular vote and defrauded by a false count of the electoral vote, and that the supreme issue in 1880 must be whether "this shall be a government by the sovereign people through elections, or a governmentby discarded servants holding over by force and fraud."[945]The reiteration of this proposition made Tilden, it was claimed, the necessary and inevitable candidate of the Cincinnati convention, called to meet on June 22. The party seemed to believe, what Tilden himself had announced from his doorstep three years before, that the country would "never condone fraud," and it did not propose to sacrifice a winning issue.[946]
Nevertheless, many New York Democrats disliked Tilden. Their number, which the cipher disclosures materially increased, grew into threatening proportions after Kelly's dissatisfaction had settled into a relentless feud. This condition made Tilden's chances of carrying the State uncertain if not absolutely nil, and encouraged his critics to magnify his weaknesses until the belief generally obtained that serious, perhaps fatal opposition would array itself at the State convention on April 20. Statements as to Tilden's ill-health likewise found currency. When not displaying evidence of unimpaired mental vigour in the courtroom, he was said to be on the verge of total paralysis.[947]To his burdens the government also added another by pursuing his income tax. This suit, commenced in January, 1877, and destined to drag through five years until dismissed by the prosecution without costs to either party, was fixed for the April term in 1880, although the United States attorney admitted his unpreparedness for trial.[948]"Thus was he persecuted with unrelenting virulence by the Administration," says his biographer, "and by the Republican press, which neglected no opportunity of refreshing the memory of its readers in regard to his imputed capacities for wickedness."[949]
Meanwhile, to escape interruptions to which Gramercy Park exposed him, Tilden settled in the summer of 1879 at Greystone on the Hudson, three miles beyond the northernmost limit of the city, on the highest ground south of the Highlands. Here he brought a portion of his library; here he mingled with his flocks and herds; and here in the seclusion of a noble estate, with the comforts of a palatial stone dwelling, he discoursed with friends, who came from every part of the country to assure him that he alone could keep the party together. Ever silent as to his own intentions Tilden talked of the crime of 1876 until his visitors, imbued with his own spirit, left him thoroughly impressed with the importance of his renomination.
But Tilden did not trust the result to sentiment. Throughout New York Daniel E. Manning and other lieutenants held a tight rein, and when the Syracuse convention assembled an early roll-call, on a resolution to determine the character of the Committee on Credentials, showed 295 votes for Tilden to 80 against him. If this overwhelming majority shocked the dissenters, it was not less a surprise to the regulars. In the convention of 1876 Tilden mustered, including Tammany, only 201 out of 375; now, after his enemies had exhausted their opposition, he proved stronger than in the closing months of his famous career as a reform governor. The result of this vote settled all controversies, leaving the convention free to appoint electors and to select delegates to Cincinnati.[950]It was not to adjourn, however, until it had shown a serene and polite contempt for John Kelly. During the morning John B. Haskin, on behalf of the Tammany convention, had presented a resolution expressing a desire for the union of the party and asking the appointment of a harmony committee. Ignoring the assembly from which he came, the convention treated the resolution as a personal communication fromHaskin, whom it assured, after politely reciprocating his desire for the union of the Democratic party, "that the deliberative wisdom of the national convention will result in such action as will secure the triumph of the Democratic party in the ensuing election."[951]This bitter rebuff, coupled with the overwhelming majority for Tilden, indicated a conscious strength which deeply impressed the party in other States, and greatly aided in demoralising opposition in New York.
Nor did the convention adjourn until its Committee on Resolutions sprung a further surprise. The delegates anticipated and applauded an elaborate statement of the fraud issue, but the presentation of Tilden as a candidate for President came with the suddenness of his unexpected majority. Manning did not intend to go so far. His courage came with his strength. Proof of this, if any were needed, existed in the fact that the endorsement was in manuscript, while the rest of the platform was read from a printed slip. To define the situation more clearly the committee submitted a unit rule, declaring "that in case any attempt is made to dismember or divide the delegation by contesting the seats of a portion of the delegates, or if delegates countenance such an attempt by assuming to act separately from the majority, or fail to coöperate with such majority, the seats of such delegates shall be deemed to be vacated."[952]Never did convention adopt a more drastic rule. The reading of these ball and chain provisions provoked hisses and widened the chasm between Tilden's convention and John Kelly's side-show.
Kelly's bolt in 1879 had proved his power to destroy; yet to his friends, if not to himself, it must have been deeply humiliating to see the fierce light of public interest turned entirely on Tilden. Kelly also realised the more poignant fact that jealousy, distrust, and accumulated resentment lined the way he had marked out for himself. Nevertheless, he walked on apparently heedless of the signs of conflict. Sincethe regular Democratic convention would not admit him, he threateningly assembled one of his own in Shakespeare Hall, to be used, if the party did not yield, in knocking at the door of the Cincinnati convention. William Dorsheimer acted as its temporary chairman. Dorsheimer had become a political changeling. Within a decade he had been a Republican, a Liberal, and a Democrat, and it was whispered that he was already tired of being a Kellyite. His appeal for Horatio Seymour indicated his restlessness. The feuds of Tilden and Church and Kernan and Kelly and Robinson had left Seymour the one Democrat who received universal homage from his party, and it became the fashion of Tilden's enemies to refer to the Oneidan as the only one who could unite the party and carry the State. It did not matter to Dorsheimer that Seymour, having retired from active politics in 1868, was placidly meditating at Deerfield, devoted to agricultural and historical interests. Nor did his clamour cease after the bucolic statesman had declared that if he must choose between a funeral and a nomination he would take the first,[953]since the mention of Seymour's name always waked an audience into cheers. Later in the day Amasa J. Parker, on taking the chair as president, artfully made use of the same ruse to arouse interest.
It was not an enthusiastic convention. Many delegates had lost heart. Kelly himself left the train unnoticed, and to some the blue badges, exploiting the purpose of their presence, indicated a fool's errand. In the previous September they had refused to support Robinson, and having defeated him they now returned to the same hall to threaten Tilden with similar treatment. This was their only mission. Humiliation did not possess them, however, until John B. Haskin reported that the regulars refused to recognise their existence. Then John Kelly threw off his muzzle, and with the Celtic-English of a Tammany brave exhibited a violent and revolutionary spirit. "Tilden was elected by the votes of the people," said Kelly, "and he had not sufficient courage after he was elected to go forward, as a brave man should have gone forward, and said to the people of the country, 'I have been elected by the votes of the people, and you see to it that I am inaugurated.' Nothing of the like did Mr. Tilden."[954]
In other words, Kelly thought Tilden an unfit candidate because he did not decide for himself that he had been elected and proceed to take his seat at the cost of a tremendous civil convulsion. Perhaps it was this policy more than Kelly's personality which had begun to alienate Dorsheimer. One who had been brought up in the bosom of culture and conservatism could have little confidence in such a man. The platform, though bitter, avoided this revolutionary sentiment. It protested against the total surrender of the party to one man, who has "cunning" and "unknown resources of wealth," and who "attempts to forestall public opinion, to preoccupy the situation, to overrule the majority, and to force himself upon the party to its ruin." It declared that "Tildenism is personalism, which is false to Democracy and dangerous to the Republic," and it pronounced "Tilden unfit for President" because "his political career has been marked with selfishness, treachery, and dishonour, and his name irretrievably connected with the scandals brought to light by the cipher despatches."[955]Haskin proposed a more compact statement, declaring that "the Democratic party does not want any such money-grabber, railroad wrecker, and paralytic hypocrite at the helm of State."[956]
After the two conventions adjourned the question of chiefest interest was, would Tilden seek the nomination at Cincinnati? The action of the convention demonstrated that the regular party organisation was unaffected by theKelly bolt, that Tilden controlled the party in the State, and that his nomination was a part of the programme. Moreover, it showed that the New York Democracy did not intend asking support upon any principle other than the issue of fraud. But intimations of Tilden's purpose to decline a nomination found expression in the speech and acts of men presumedly informed. Lester B. Faulkner's statement, in calling the convention to order, that he did not know whether the Governor would accept a renomination, coupled with the convention's reply to Haskin, expressing confidence that the action at Cincinnati would result in the Democracy's carrying New York, had made a deep impression. To many these insinuations indicated that because of his health or for some unknown cause he was not seriously a candidate. Others found reason for similar belief in the indisposition of prominent delegates to resent such a suggestion. One veteran journalist, skilled in reading the words and actions of political leaders, asserted with confidence that he would not be a candidate. To him Tilden's name concealed a strategic movement, which, in the end, would enable his friends to control the nomination for another.[957]
Such interpretation found hosts of doubters. Without Tilden, it was said, the fraud issue would lose its influence. Besides, if he intended to withdraw, why did Kelly assemble his convention? Surely some one, said they, would have given him an inkling in time to save him from the contempt and humiliation to which he had subjected himself. There was much force in this reasoning, and as the date of the national convention approached the mystery deepened.
Tilden was not a paralytic, as Haskin proclaimed. He could not even be called an invalid. His attention to vexatious litigation evidenced unimpaired mental power, and his open life at Greystone proved that his physical condition did not hide him from men. He undoubtedly required regular rest and sleep. His nervous system did not resistexcitement as readily as in the days of his battle with Tweed and the Canal ring. It is possible, too, that early symptoms of a confirmed disease had then appeared, and that prudence dictated hygienic precautions. Once, in December, 1879, when contemplating the strain of the campaign of 1876, he questioned his ability to go through another. Again, in the early spring of 1880, after prolonged intellectual effort, he remarked in rather a querulous tone, "If I am no longer fit to prepare a case for trial, I am not fit to be President of the United States." Such casual remarks, usually made to a confidential friend, seemed to limit his references to his health.[958]He doubtless felt disinclined, as have many stronger men, to meet the strain that comes when in pursuit of high public office, but there is no evidence that ill-health, if it really entered into his calculations, was the determining factor of his action. Conditions in the Republican party had changed in the Empire State since the nomination of Garfield. Besides, the cipher disclosures had lost him the independent vote which he received in 1876. This left only the regulation party strength, minus the Kelly vote. In 1876 Tilden's majority was 26,568, and in 1879 Kelly polled 77,566. If Kelly's bolt in 1880, therefore, should carry one-half or only one-quarter of the votes it did in 1879, Tilden must necessarily lose New York which meant the loss of the election. These were conditions, not theories, that confronted this hard-headed man of affairs, who, without sentiment, never failed to understand the inexorable logic of facts. Nevertheless, Tilden wanted the endorsement of a renomination. This would open the way for a graceful retreat. Yet, to shield him from possible defeat, he secretly gave Manning a letter, apparently declining to run again, which could be used if needed.
On reaching Cincinnati Manning found that a multiplicity of candidates made it difficult to determine Tilden's strength. The ranks of the opposition, based on cipher disclosures and Kelly's threats, rapidly strengthened, and although many friends of other candidates thought it less hazardous to nominate him than to repudiate him, ominous warnings piled up like thunder clouds on a summer day. Meantime New York's active canvass for Henry B. Payne of Ohio seemed to conflict with Tilden's candidacy, while Tilden's remarks, spoken in moments of physical discouragement, added to the impression that he did not seek the nomination. But why did he not say so? Manning, supposing he was the sole possessor of the letter and believing the time not yet ripe for producing it, kept his own counsels. Tilden, however, had given a duplicate to his brother Henry, who now announced through the press that Tilden had forwarded a communication. This reached Cincinnati on the eve of the convention.
It was long and characteristic. He recalled his services as a private citizen in overthrowing the Tweed ring and purifying the judiciary, and as governor of the State in breaking up the Canal ring, reducing the taxes, and reforming the administration. He told the familiar story of the "count out"; maintained that he could, if he pleased, have bought "proof of the fraud" from the Southern returning boards; and accused Congress of "abdicating its duty" in referring the count to the Electoral Commission. Since 1876, he said, he had been "denied the immunities of private life without the powers conferred by public station," but he had done all in his power to keep before the people "the supreme issue" raised by the events of that year. Now, however, he felt unequal to "a new engagement which involves four years of ceaseless toil. Such a work of renovation after many years of misrule, such a reform of systems and policies, to which I would cheerfully have sacrificed all that remained to me of health and life, is now, I fear, beyond my strength."[959]
Tilden did not intend this to be a letter of withdrawal. With the hope of stimulating loyalty he sought to impressupon the delegates his vicarious sacrifice and the need of holding to the fraud issue. This was the interpretation quickly given it by his enemies. Kelly declared it a direct bid for the nomination. But a majority of the New York delegation regretfully accepted it as final. Nevertheless, many ardent Tilden men, believing the letter had strengthened him, insisted upon his nomination. The meeting of the delegation proved a stormy one. Bold charges of infidelity to Tilden reacted against Payne, and to escape controversy Manning indiscreetly asked if he might yield to the pressure which his letter had stimulated. To this Tilden could make but one reply: "My action is irrevocable. No friend must cast a doubt on my sincerity."[960]
There is something pathetic in this passing of Tilden, but there seems no reason for surprise. Tilden was essentially an opportunist. He attacked the Tweed ring after its exposure; he made war upon the Canal ring after its record had become notorious; and he reduced the State taxes after the war debt had been paid. Upon these reforms he rode into power, and upon the cry of fraud he hoped to ride again to success. He was much too acute not to know that the cipher disclosures had robbed him of the rôle of reformer, but he seems to have been blind to the obvious fact that every one else was also aware of it. Besides, he lacked boldness and was at times the victim of indecision. He was singularly unfortunate, moreover, in failing to attract a circle of admirers such as usually surround public men of great prominence. Nevertheless, the opinion then obtained, and a quarter of a century perhaps has not changed it, that had Manning, when he reached the convention city, boldly and promptly demanded Tilden's nomination it could have been secured. Whether, if tendered him, he would have accepted it, "no one," says Bigelow, "is competent to affirm or deny. He probably did not know himself."[961]
Meanwhile, New York lost whatever prestige it had inherited through him. Payne had the support of barely amajority of the delegation,[962]Samuel J. Randall of Pennsylvania, who had relied upon it, was angry, and the first roll-call showed that Winfield S. Hancock and Thomas F. Bayard held the leading places.[963]This contrasted sharply with its early success. George Hoadley of Ohio, Tilden's devoted friend, had been made temporary chairman; Kelly, rising to address the convention, had felt most keenly the absence of a friend in the chair; and a two-thirds majority excluded the Shakespeare Hall delegation. Such influence, however, was at an end. The delegation affected control when Rufus H. Peckham declared from the platform that as Tilden had renounced all claims New York would support Randall; but the convention failed to join in the excited cheers of the Philadelphians, while the roll-call soon disclosed Hancock as the favourite. Before the result was announced officially Wisconsin asked permission to change its twenty votes to the soldier, and in the twinkling of an eye the stampede began. At the conclusion of the changes Hancock had received all the votes cast save 33.[964]William H. English of Indiana, a rich man, who had served four terms in Congress during the administrations of Presidents Pierce and Buchanan, was nominated for Vice-President. The platform favoured a tariff for revenue only, exploited the election fraud, demanded honest money of coin or paper convertible into coin, and stoutly opposed Chinese immigration.
After Hancock's nomination Kelly's inning began. Theconvention had treated him coldly. On the first day, when New York was called, desiring to protest against seating a member of the regular delegation, he sought recognition from a seat among the alternates, but Hoadley, without the slightest sign of seeing or hearing him, ordered the roll-call to proceed. The overwhelming rejection of his delegation was not less crushing. The vote combined a compliment to Tilden and an official utterance against the action of his great enemy, and as the States, answering promptly and sharply, dealt death to bolting and paralysis to Tammany it became evident to the blindest that Tilden possessed the confidence of his party. In spite of the friendly relations between Hendricks and Kelly, Indiana voted a solid No. Nine other States, including Kentucky, Louisiana, and North Carolina, did likewise. Indeed, nearly two-thirds of the Southern delegates ranged themselves against the Boss. To add to the public proof of Kelly's weakness New York asked to be excused from voting.[965]
Nevertheless, Kelly had his friends. They were not as strong in numbers or in voice as those who cheered Conkling at Chicago, but in the absence of a master-mind the galleries seized upon the Tammany leader and cheered whenever he appeared. To give greater spectacular effect to his first greeting, Wade Hampton of South Carolina got upon his crutches and stumped down the aisle to shake him solemnly by the hand. Kelly, however, did not reach the culminating point of his picturesque rôle until Hancock's nomination. After Randall, Hampton, and others had spoken, cries for Kelly brought to the platform a delegation of Tammany leaders walking arm in arm, with John Kelly, Augustus Schell, Amasa J. Parker, and George C. Green in front. The convention, save the New York delegation, leaped to its feet, and when Kelly declared that hereafter whoever alluded to the differences which had heretoforeexisted in the New York Democracy should be considered a "traitor to his party," the great enthusiasm forced cheers from one-half of the New York delegation. To make the love-feast complete, John R. Fellows, finally responding to impatient calls from all parts of the hall, also took the platform.
Fellows, still in his forties, had had a varied, perhaps a brilliant career. Born in Troy he found his way in early boyhood to Arkansas, joined the Confederate army, fought at Shiloh, escaped from Vicksburg, surrendered at Port Hudson, and remained a prisoner of war until June, 1865. Returning to Arkansas he served in the State Senate, and in 1868 came to New York, where he secured an appointment in the office of the District Attorney. Public attention became instantly fixed on the attractive figure of the intrepid young assistant. He leaped into renown. He soon became the principal Democratic speaker in the city, and from the first followed the fortunes of the pale, eager form of the distinguished reform Governor. At Cincinnati he represented the conservative Tilden men, and although upon reaching the platform he faced a man of greater force, he betrayed no docile character, ready to receive passively whatever the Boss might allot. His speech was cleverly framed. He expressed no desire that Tilden Democrats be forgiven for the political sins which their opponents had committed; neither did he mar the good feeling of the occasion. But when, at the conclusion of his remarks, John Kelly stepped forward, seized his hand, and began working it up and down like a handle, Fellows stood stiffly and passionlessly as a pump, neither rejecting nor accepting the olive branches thrust upon him. Thus ended the great scene of the reconciliation of the New York Democracy.
When plucked the fruit of this reunion was found not to be very toothsome. Returning to New York, Tammany held a ratification meeting (July 1) in which the regulars would not unite. Subsequently the regulars held a meeting (July 28) at which Tilden presided, and which Tammany did notattend. Similar discord manifested itself respecting the choice of a chief judge for the Court of Appeals. The Republican State Committee had chosen Charles J. Folger, but when the regulars advocated the same method of selection Kelly defiantly issued a call (August 14) for a State convention. Such bossism, the product of a strange, fitful career, was only less dramatic than that of Tweed. At a subsequent conference Kelly submitted a letter stating that if a convention were regularly summoned and Tammany given its full share of delegates and committeemen, his call would be withdrawn.[966]To this the regulars finally yielded, and a State convention, held at Saratoga on September 28, made Kelly its head and front. His advent evoked the loudest cheers, his demand for five members of the State committee met little resistance, and Dorsheimer, besides serving as chairman of the Committee on Resolutions, presented the name of Charles J. Rapallo, who became the nominee for chief judge of Appeals. Thus within a few months Kelly had defeated Robinson for governor, prevented Tilden's nomination for President, and imposed his will upon the regular organisation.
In the selection of municipal candidates he was not less successful. Irving Hall insisted upon naming the mayor, and for many weeks the bickering and bargaining of conference committees resulted in nothing. Finally, Kelly proposed that the regulars select several satisfactory persons from whom he would choose. Among those submitted was the name of William Russell Grace, a respected merchant, a native of Ireland, a Roman Catholic in religion, and a man of large wealth, but without official experience of any kind. This was better, it was said, than official experience of the wrong kind. Irving Hall included his name with considerable reluctance. It distrusted his loyalty, since a rumour, too well founded not to cause alarm, revealed Kelly's interest in him. But Kelly's cunning equalled his audacity. He had secured the nomination of Rapallo by voting forWilliam C. Ruger of Onondaga, and he now caused it to be understood that under no circumstances would Grace be acceptable. The merchant's name once upon the list, however, the Boss snapped it up with avidity, while the Germans muttered because three of the five city candidates were Irishmen. Thus the campaign opened badly for the Democrats.