The Grover Cleveland Period—President Arthur and Mr. Blaine—John
Chamberlin—The Decrees of Destiny
I
What may be called the Grover Cleveland period of American politics
began with the election of that extraordinary person—another man of
destiny—to the governorship of New York. Nominated, as it were, by
chance, he carried the State by an unprecedented majority. That was not
because of his popularity, but that an incredible number of Republican
voters refused to support their party ticket and stayed away from the
polls. The Blaine-Conkling feud, inflamed by the murder of Garfield,
had rent the party of Lincoln and Grant asunder. Arthur, a Conkling
leader, had succeeded to the presidency.
If any human agency could have sealed the breach he might have done it.
No man, however, can achieve the impossible. The case was hopeless.
Arthur was a man of surpassing sweetness and grace. As handsome as
Pierce, as affable as McKinley, he was a more experienced and dextrous
politician than either. He had been put on the ticket with Garfield to
placate Conkling. All sorts of stories to his discredit were told
during the ensuing campaign. The Democrats made him out a tricky and
typical “New York politician.” In point of fact he was a many-sided,
accomplished man who had a taking way of adjusting all conditions and
adapting himself to all companies.
With a sister as charming and tactful as he for head of his domestic
fabric, the White House bloomed again. He possessed the knack of
surrounding himself with all sorts of agreeable people. Frederick
Frelinghuysen was Secretary of State and Robert Lincoln, continued from
the Garfield Cabinet, Secretary of War. Then there were three
irresistibles: Walter Gresham, Frank Hatton and “Ben” Brewster. His
home contingent—“Clint” Wheeler, “Steve” French, and “Jake”
Hess—pictured as “ward heelers”—were, in reality, efficient and
all-around, companionable men, capable and loyal.
I was sent by the Associated Press to Washington on a fool’s
errand—that is, to get an act of Congress extending copyright to the
news of the association—and, remaining the entire session, my business
to meet the official great and to make myself acceptable, I came into a
certain intimacy with the Administration circle, having long had
friendly relations with the President. In all my life I have never
passed so delightful and useless a winter.
Very early in the action I found that my mission involved a serious and
vexed question—nothing less than the creation of a new property—and I
proceeded warily. Through my uncle, Stanley Matthews, I interested the
members of the Supreme Court. The Attorney General, a great lawyer and
an old Philadelphia friend, was at my call and elbow. The Joint Library
Committee of Congress, to which the measure must go, was with me. Yet
somehow the scheme lagged.
I could not account for this. One evening at a dinner Mr. Blaine
enlightened me. We sat together at table and suddenly he turned and
said: “How are you getting on with your bill?” And my reply being
rather halting, he continued, “You won’t get a vote in either House,”
and he proceeded very humorously to improvise the average member’s
argument against it as a dangerous power, a perquisite to the great
newspapers and an imposition upon the little ones. To my mind this was
something more than the post-prandial levity it was meant to be.
Not long after a learned but dissolute old lawyer said to me, “You need
no act of Congress to protect your news service. There are at least
two, and I think four or five, English rulings that cover the case. Let
me show them to you.” He did so and I went no further with the
business, quite agreeing with Mr. Blaine, and nothing further came of
it. To a recent date the Associated Press has relied on these decisions
under the common law of England. Curiously enough, quite a number of
newspapers in whose actual service I was engaged, opened fire upon me
and roundly abused me.