CHAPTER II

NEW PARTY ALIGNMENTS

1861

The battle of Bull Run fomented mutterings, freighted with antagonism

to the war. Certain journals violently resented the suspension of the

writ of _habeas corpus_, while the Act of Congress, approved August 3,

providing for the freedom of slaves employed in any military or naval

service, called forth such extreme denunciations that the United

States grand jury for the Southern District of New York asked the

Court if the authors were subject to indictment. "These

newspapers,"[788] said the foreman, "are in the frequent practice of

encouraging the rebels now in arms against the Federal Government by

expressing sympathy and agreement with them, the duty of acceding to

their demands, and dissatisfaction with the employment of force to

overcome them. Their conduct is, of course, condemned and abhorred by

all loyal men, but the grand jury will be glad to learn from the Court

that they are also subject to indictment and condign punishment." The

Postmaster-General's order excluding such journals from the mails

intensified the bitterness. The arrests of persons charged with giving

aid and comfort to the enemy also furnished partisans an opportunity

to make people distrustful of such summary methods by magnifying the

danger to personal liberty. In a word, the Bull Run disaster had

become a peg upon which to hang sympathy for the South.[789]

[Footnote 788: New York _Journal of Commerce_, _News_, _Day-Book_,

_Freeman's Journal_, Brooklyn _Eagle_.--Appleton's _Cyclopædia_, 1861,

p. 329.]

[Footnote 789: "I have had a conversation this morning with a prominent

Democrat, who is entirely devoted to sustaining the government in the

present struggle. He informs me that the leaders of that party are

opposed to the war and sympathise with the South; that they keep quiet

because it will not advance their views to move just now." Letter of

William Gray, dated September 4, to Secretary Chase.--Chase Papers,

MS.]

Differences likewise appeared among Republicans. The Weed and

anti-Weed factions still existed, but these divisions now grew out of

differences far deeper than patronage. After the bombardment of Fort

Sumter, Thurlow Weed desired the conflict conducted on lines that

would unite the North into one party responding to the cry of "Union,

now and forever." He believed this might be done and that rebellion

could thus be confined to the extreme cotton region, if the loyal

element in the Border States was cherished and representatives of all

parties were permitted to participate in civil as well as military

affairs. To this end he sought to avoid the question of emancipation,

cordially approving the President's course in modifying Fremont's

proclamation of the preceding August, which liberated the slaves of

traitorous owners in Missouri. Weed pushed his contention to the

extreme. Following the spirit of his rejected compromise he insisted

that every act of the Government should strengthen and encourage the

Union men of the Border States, among which he included North Carolina

and Tennessee, and he bitterly resented the policy of urging the army,

hastily and without due preparation, to fight "political battles" like

that of Bull Run. On the other hand, the radical anti-slavery element

of the country, led by Secretary Chase in the Cabinet, by Senator

Sumner in Congress, and backed by Horace Greeley in the _Tribune_,

disliked the President's policy of trying to conciliate Kentucky and

other Border States by listening to the demands of slavery. This

factional difference became doubly pronounced after Lincoln's

modification of the Fremont proclamation.

Notwithstanding Democratic criticisms and Republican differences,

however, the supporters of Lincoln, anxious to teach the seceding

States an object lesson in patriotism, desired to unite both parties

into one Union organisation, pledged to the vigorous prosecution of

the war and the execution of the laws in all parts of the country. To

Republicans this plan looked easy. Most people professed to favour the

preservation of the Union, and thousands of young men irrespective of

party had enlisted for the suppression of armed rebellion. Moreover, a

union of parties at such a critical moment, it was argued, would be

more helpful in discouraging the South than victory on the

battlefield. Accordingly the Republican State Committee proposed to

the Democrats early in August that in the election to occur on

November 4 a single ticket be nominated, fairly representative of all

parties upon a simple war platform.

About Dean Richmond, chairman of the Democratic State Committee, still

clustered Peter Cagger, William B. Ludlow, Sanford E. Church, and

other Soft leaders, with Horatio Seymour substantially in control.

These men had not participated in the Union Square meeting on April

20, nor had their sentiments been voiced since the fall of Fort

Sumter; but it was well known that their views did not coincide with

those of Daniel S. Dickinson, John A. Dix, James T. Brady, Greene C.

Bronson, and other leaders of the Hards. Richmond's reply, therefore,

was not disappointing. He admitted the wisdom of filling public

offices with pure and able men who commanded the confidence of the

people, and suggested, with a play of sarcasm, that if such an example

were set in filling Federal offices, it would probably be followed in

the selection of State officers. But the politics of men in office, he

continued, was of little importance compared to sound principles.

Democrats would unite with all citizens opposed to any war and equally

to any peace which is based upon the idea of the separation of these

States, and who regard it the duty of the Federal government at all

times to hold out terms of peace and accommodation to the dissevered

States.

"Our political system," he continued, "was founded in compromise, and

it can never be dishonourable in any Administration to seek to restore

it by the same means. Above all, they repel the idea that there exists

between the two sections of the Union such an incompatibility of

institutions as to give rise to an irrepressible conflict between

them, which can only terminate in the subjugation of one or the other.

Repelling the doctrine that any State can rightfully secede from the

Union, they hold next in abhorrence that aggressive and fanatical

sectional policy which has so largely contributed to the present

danger of the country. They propose, therefore, to invite to union

with them all citizens of whatever party, who, believing in these

views, will act with them to secure honest administration in Federal

and State affairs, a rigid maintenance of the Constitution, economy in

public expenditures, honesty in the award of contracts, justice to the

soldier in the field and the taxpayer at home, and the expulsion of

corrupt men from office."[790]

[Footnote 790: New York _Herald_, August 9, 1861.]

It was hardly to be expected, perhaps, that Dean Richmond and other

representatives of a great party would be willing, even if moved by no

other motive than a love of country, to abandon a political

organisation that had existed for years, and that had already shown

its patriotism by the generous enlistment of its members; but it is

doubtful if they would have proclaimed, without the guidance of a

State convention, such an elaborate and positive platform of

principles, had not the serious defeat at Bull Run and the action of

the President in suspending the writ of _habeas corpus_, subjected the

national Administration to severe criticism. This, at least, was the

view taken by the radical Republican press, which viciously attacked

the patriotism of Richmond and his associates, charging them with

using the livery of Democracy to serve the cause of treason.[791]

[Footnote 791: New York _Tribune_, August 10.]

In the midst of these developments the Democratic State convention,

made up of a larger number of old men than usual, assembled at

Syracuse on September 4. It was not an enthusiastic body. The division

upon national affairs plainly had a depressing influence. Francis

Kernan became temporary chairman. At the Oneida bar, Kernan, then

forty-five years old, had been for nearly two decades the peer of

Hiram Denio, Samuel Beardsley, Ward Hunt, and Joshua Spencer. He was a

forceful speaker, cool and self-possessed, with a pleasing voice and

good manner. He could not be called an orator, but he was a master of

the art of making a perfectly clear statement, and in defending his

position, point by point, with never failing readiness and skill, he

had few if any superiors. He belonged, also, to that class of able

lawyers who are never too busy to take an active interest in public

affairs.

In his brief address Kernan clearly outlined the position which the

Democracy of the whole country was to occupy. "It is our duty," he

said, "to oppose abolitionism at the North and secession at the South,

which are equally making war upon our Government. Let us consign them

both to a common grave. Never will our country see peace unless we

do.... We care not what men are in charge of the Government, it is our

duty as patriots and as Democrats to protect and preserve that

Government, and resist with arms, and, if need be, with our lives, the

men who seek to overthrow it; but this must be no war for the

emancipation of slaves."[792]

[Footnote 792: New York _Tribune_, September 5, 1861.]

The vigor of Kernan as a speaker and presiding officer exaggerated by

contrast the feebleness of Herman J. Redfield, the permanent president

of the convention. Redfield was an old man, a mere reminiscence of the

days of DeWitt Clinton, whose speech, read in a low, weak voice, was

directed mainly to a defence of the sub-treasury plan of 1840 and the

tariff act of 1846.[793] He professed to favour a vigorous prosecution

of the war, but there were no words of reprobation for its authors,

while he expressed the belief that "civil war will never preserve, but

forever destroy the union of States." This was the prophecy of Reuben

H. Walworth, the ex-chancellor, made at the Albany peace convention in

the preceding January, and the applause that greeted the statement

then, as it did at Syracuse, indicated a disposition on the part of

many to favour concessions that would excuse if it did not absolutely

justify secession.

[Footnote 793: "From what lodge in some vast wilderness, from what lone

mountain in the desert, the convention obtained its Rip Van Winkle

president, we are at a loss to conceive. He evidently has never heard

of the Wilmot Proviso struggle of 1848, the compromise contest of

1850, the Kansas-Nebraska Act of 1854, the Lecompton constitution of

1858, nor the presidential election of 1860. It is plain that he has

never even dreamed of the secession ordinances and of the fall of

Sumter."--New York _Tribune_, September 6, 1861.

"The speech of Mr. Redfield is universally laughed at. He has

completely proven that he does not belong to the present century, or,

at least, that he has been asleep for the last twenty years. Barnum

should deposit it among the curiosities of his shop."--New York

_Herald_, September 5, 1861.]

The party platform, however, took little notice of the Redfield speech

and the Redfield cheers. It declared that the right of secession did

not anywhere or at any time exist; that the seizure of United States

property and the sending out of privateers to prey on American

commerce had precipitated the war; and that it was the duty of the

government to put down rebellion with all the means in its power, and

the duty of the people to rally about the government; but it also

demanded that Congress call a convention of all the States to revise

the Constitution, and that the Administration abandon the narrow

platform of the Chicago convention, expel corrupt men from office, and

exclude advocates of abolition from the Cabinet, declaring that it

would "regard any attempt to pervert the conflict into a war for the

emancipation of slaves as fatal to the hope of restoring the Union."

The debate upon the platform was destined to bring into prominence a

broader loyalty than even Francis Kernan had exhibited. Arphaxed

Loomis moved to restore the resolution, expunged in the committee's

report, protesting against the passport system, the State police

system, the suppression of free discussion in the press, and the

suspension of the writ of _habeas corpus_. It is doubtful if the

freedom of the press had been materially abridged, since restrictions

upon a few newspapers, charged with giving aid and comfort to the

enemy, scarcely exceeded the proscription of anti-slavery papers

before the war. The suspension of the writ of _habeas corpus_,

however, furnished better grounds for complaint. Men were apprehended,

often on the telegram of Secretary Seward, and committed to prison,

without any offence being charged or an examination being made. Among

others arrested were two men at Malone, besides an editor of the New

York _News_, and a crippled newsboy who sold the _News_. Public

sentiment generally sustained the Administration in such action, but

many persons, including conservative Republicans, frequently

questioned the right or justice of such procedure. "What are we coming

to," asked Senator Trumbull of Illinois, "if arrests may be made at

the whim or the caprice of a cabinet minister?"[794] Loomis, in

insisting upon his resolution, had these arbitrary arrests in mind,

maintaining that it embodied the true principles of Democracy, which

he was unwilling to see violated without recording a protest.

[Footnote 794: "Lieber says that _habeas corpus_, free meetings like

this, and a free press, are the three elements which distinguish

liberty from despotism. All that Saxon blood has gained in the battles

and toils of two hundred years are these three things. But to-day, Mr.

Chairman, every one of them is annihilated in every square mile of the

republic. We live to-day, every one of us, under martial law. The

Secretary of State puts into his bastille, with a warrant as

irresponsible as that of Louis, any man whom he pleases. And you know

that neither press nor lips may venture to arraign the government

without being silenced. At this moment at least one thousand men are

'bastilled' by an authority as despotic as that of Louis, three times

as many as Eldon and George III seized when they trembled for his

throne. For the first time on this continent we have passports, which

even Louis Napoleon pronounces useless and odious. For the first time

in our history government spies frequent our cities."--Lecture of

Wendell Phillips, delivered in New York, December, 1861.]

This brought to his feet Albert P. Laning of Buffalo. He was younger

by a score of years than Loomis, and although never as prominent,

perhaps, as the great advocate of legal reformative measures, his

remarkable memory and thorough grasp of legal principles had listed

him among the strong lawyers of Western New York. To the convention he

was well known as a clear, forceful speaker, who had been a student of

political history as well as of law, and who, in spite of his ardent

devotion to his profession, had revealed, when shaping the policy of

his party, the personal gifts and remarkable power of sustained

argument that win admiration.

At Syracuse, in 1861, Laning, just then in his early forties, was in

the fulness of his intellectual power. He had followed Douglas and

favored the Crittenden Compromise, but the fall of Sumter crippled his

sympathy for the South and stiffened his support of the Federal

administration. Moreover, he understood the difficulty, during a

period of war, of conducting an impartial, constitutional opposition

to the policy of the Administration, without its degeneration into a

faction, which at any moment might be shaken by interest, prejudice,

or passion. The motion of Loomis, therefore, seemed to him too narrow,

and he opposed it with eloquence, maintaining that it was the duty of

all good men not to embarrass the Government in such a crisis. Rather

than that bold rebellion should destroy the government, he said, he

preferred to allow the President to take his own course. The

responsibility was upon him, and the people, irrespective of party,

should strengthen his hands until danger had disappeared and the

government was re-established in all its strength.

Kernan did not take kindly to these sentiments. Like Loomis he

resented arbitrary arrests in States removed from actual hostilities,

where the courts were open for the regular administration of justice,

and with a few ringing sentences he threw the delegates into wild

cheering. Though brief, this speech resulted in restoring the Loomis

resolution to its place in the platform, and in increasing the

clamour that Kernan lead the party as a candidate for attorney-general.

Kernan was not averse to taking office. For three years, from 1856 to

1859, he had been official reporter for the Court of Appeals, and in

1860 served in the Assembly. Later, he entered Congress, finally

reaching the United States Senate. But in 1861 prudence prompted him

to decline the tempting offer of a nomination for attorney-general,

and although entreated to reconsider his determination, he stubbornly

resisted, and at last forced the nomination of Lyman Tremaine of

Albany, who had previously held the office.[795]

[Footnote 795: The State ticket was made up as follows: Secretary of

State, David R. Floyd Jones of Queens; Judge of the Court of Appeals,

George F. Comstock of Onondaga; Comptroller, George F. Scott of

Saratoga; Attorney-General, Lyman Tremaine of Albany; Treasurer of

State, Francis C. Brouck of Erie; Canal Commissioners, Jarvis B. Lord

of Monroe, William W. Wright of Ontario; State Prison Director,

William C. Rhodes of New York.]

The work of the convention did not please all members of the party. To

some the drift of the speeches and resolutions seemed an encouragement

to armed rebellion; to others, although jealous of individual rights,

it appeared to confuse the liberty of the press with license. One

paper, an able representative of the party, disclaiming any desire "to

rekindle animosities by discussing its various objectionable points,"

felt "bound to express its heartfelt repugnance of the malignant and

traitorous spirit which animates the Loomis resolution."[796] These

were severe words, showing that others than Laning opposed such

criticism of the President.

[Footnote 796: New York _Leader_, September 9, 1861.]

Dean Richmond's refusal to unite in a Union convention did not stifle

the hope that many Democrats might participate in such a meeting, and

to afford them an opportunity a People's convention met at Wieting

Hall in Syracuse, on September 11, contemporaneously with the

Republican State convention. It became evident that the purpose was

attained when the Democrats present declared that the banner of their

former party no longer marked a place for them to muster. In character

the members resembled determined Abolitionists in the forties. Its

president, Thomas G. Alvord of Onondaga, had been speaker of the

Assembly, a competitor of Gordon Granger for Congress, and a

pronounced Hard Shell until the repeal of the Missouri Compromise

drove him into the camp of the Softs. One of the delegates, James B.

McKean, was soon to lead the Sixty-seventh Regiment to the field;

another, Alexander S. Diven of Chemung was to enter Congress, and

subsequently to distinguish himself at Antietam and Chancellorsville

at the head of the One Hundred and Seventh; other participants,

conspicuous in their respective localities, were to suffer bitterly

and struggle bravely to maintain the Union. One delegate sung the

"Star Spangled Banner," while the others, with radiant faces, broke

into cheers. This was followed by several brief and vigorous speeches

approving the war and the methods by which it was conducted. "There is

no medium, no half way now," said one delegate, "between patriots and

traitors."[797] This was the sentiment of the platform, which waived

all political divisions and party traditions, declaring that the

convention sought only, in this hour of national peril, to proclaim

devotion to the Constitution and Union, and to defend and sustain the

chosen authorities of the government at whatever cost of blood and

treasure.

[Footnote 797: New York _Tribune_, September 10, 1861.]

Rumours of Daniel S. Dickinson's nomination had been in the air from

the outset. He had been much in the public eye since the 20th of

April. In his zeal for the Union, said the _Tribune_, "his pointed

utterances have everywhere fired the hearts of patriots." Freedom from

the blighting influence of slavery seemed to give him easier flight,

and his criticism of the Democratic convention was so felicitous, so

full of story and wit and ridicule and the fire of genuine patriotism,

that his name was quickly upon every lip, and his happy, homely hits

the common property of half the people of the State.[798] The mention

of his name for attorney-general, therefore, evoked the most

enthusiastic applause. Since the constitutional convention of 1846 it

had been the custom, in the absence of a candidate for governor, to

write the name of the nominee for secretary of state at the head of

the ticket; but in this instance the committee deemed it wise to

nominate for attorney-general first and give it to the man of first

importance. The nomination proved a popular hit. Instantly Syracuse

and the State were ablaze, and Republican as well as many Democratic

papers prophesied that it settled the result in November. The

convention professed to discard party lines and traditions, and its

sincerity, thus put early to the test, did much to magnify its work,

since with marked impartiality it placed upon its ticket two Hards,

two Softs, one American, and four Republicans.[799]

[Footnote 798: Dickinson's Ithaca speech, delivered the day after the

Democratic convention adjourned, is printed in full in the New York

_Tribune_ of September 10, 1861.]

[Footnote 799: The ticket was as follows: Attorney-general, Daniel S.

Dickinson of Broome; Secretary of State, Horatio Ballard of Cortland;

Comptroller, Lucius Robinson of Chemung; Treasurer, William B. Lewis

of Kings; Court of Appeals, William B. Wright, Sullivan; Canal

Commissioners, Franklin A. Alberger of Erie and Benjamin F. Bruce of

New York; State Engineer, William B. Taylor of Oneida; State Prison

Inspector, Abram B. Tappan of Westchester.]

Whenever the People's convention recessed delegates to the Republican

convention immediately took control. Indeed, so closely related were

the two assemblies that spectators at one became delegates to the

other. Weed did not attend the convention, but it adopted his

conciliatory policy. "The popular fiat has gone forth in opposition,

on the one hand, to secession and disunion, whether in the shape of

active rebellion, or its more insidious ally, advocacy of an

inglorious and dishonourable peace; and, on the other, to everything

that savors of abolition, or tends towards a violation of the

guarantees of slave property provided by the Constitution."[800]

[Footnote 800: New York _Herald_ (editorial), September 13, 1861.]

It cannot be said that the Democratic campaign opened under flattering

conditions. Loomis' resolution, known as the ninth or "secession"

plank, had led to serious difficulty. Men recognised that in time of

war more reserve was necessary in dealing with an Administration than

during a period of peace, for if the government's arm was paralysed it

could not stay the arm of the public enemy. This had been the position

of Laning, and it appealed strongly to Lyman Tremaine, who believed

the machinations of treason had forced the Government to suspend the

writ of _habeas corpus_, and to organise systems of passports and

State police. He boldly declined, therefore, to accept a nomination as

attorney-general on a platform that emphatically condemned such

measures, when deemed essential to the government's safety.

Tremaine, tall, portly, and commanding, belonged to the more

independent members of the party. He was not a stranger to public

life. Although but forty-two years old he had been an active party

worker for a quarter of a century and an office-holder since his

majority. Greene County made him supervisor, district attorney, and

county judge, and soon after his removal to Albany in 1854 he became

attorney-general. But these honours did not break his independence. He

inherited a genius for the forum, and although his gifts did not put

him into the first class, his name was familiar throughout the State.

Francis C. Brouck's withdrawal soon followed Tremaine's.[801] Then

Tammany repudiated the Loomis resolutions,[802] and the Albany _Argus_

shouted lustily for war.[803] But the blow that staggered Richmond came

from the candidates who caught the drift of public sentiment, and in a

proclamation of few words declared "in favour of vigorously sustaining

the Government in its present struggle to maintain the Constitution

and the Union, at all hazards, and at any cost of blood and

treasure."[804] This was the act of despair. For days they had waited,

and now, alarmed by the evident change, they jumped from the plank

that was sinking under them. "It is the first instance on record,"

said the _Herald_, "where the nominees of a convention openly and

defiantly spit upon the platform, and repudiated party leaders and

their secession heresies."[805]

[Footnote 801: Marshal M. Champlain of Allegany and William Williams of

Erie were substituted for Tremaine and Brouck.]

[Footnote 802: New York _Tribune_, October 4, 1861.]

[Footnote 803: November 6, 1861.]

[Footnote 804: New York _Herald_, October 23, 1861.]

[Footnote 805: _Ibid._, October 23, 1861.]

Nevertheless, the difference between the great mass of Democrats and

the supporters of the People's party was more apparent than real.[806]

Each professed undying devotion to the Union. Each, also, favoured a

vigorous prosecution of the war. As the campaign advanced the activity

of the army strengthened this loyalty and minimised the criticism of

harsh methods. Moreover, the impression obtained that the war would

soon be over.[807] McClellan was in command, and the people had not yet

learned that "our chicken was no eagle, after all," as Lowell

expressed it.[808] Controversy over the interference with slavery also

became less acute. John Cochrane, now commanding a regiment at the

front, declared, in a speech to his soldiers, that slaves of the

enemy, being elements of strength, ought to be captured as much as

muskets or cannon, and that whenever he could seize a slave, and even

arm him to fight for the government, he would do so.

[Footnote 806: "There are sympathisers with the secessionists still

remaining in the Democratic ranks, but they compose a small portion of

the party. Nine-tenths of it is probably strenuous in the

determination that the constitutional authority of the government

shall be maintained and enforced without compromise. This sentiment is

far more prevalent and decided than it was two months ago."--New York

_Tribune_, November 19, 1861.]

[Footnote 807: "I have now no doubt this causeless and most flagitious

rebellion is to be put down much sooner than many, myself included,

thought practicable."--Edwin Croswell, letter in New York _Tribune_,

November 25, 1861.]

[Footnote 808: Political Essays, p. 94.--_North American Review_,

April, 1864.]

In conducting the campaign the People's leaders discountenanced any

criticism of the Government's efforts to restore the Union. "It is not

Lincoln and the Republicans we are sustaining," wrote Daniel S.

Dickinson. "They have nothing to do with it. It is the government of

our fathers, worth just as much as if it was administered by Andrew

Jackson. There is but one side to it."[809] As a rule the Hards

accepted this view, and at the ratification of the ticket in New York,

on September 20, Lyman Tremaine swelled the long list of speakers. A

letter was also read from Greene C. Bronson. To those who heard James

T. Brady at Cooper Institute on the evening of October 28 he seemed

inspired. His piercing eyes burned in their sockets, and his animated

face, now pale with emotion, expressed more than his emphatic words

the loathing felt for men who had plunged their country into bloody

strife.

[Footnote 809: Daniel S. Dickinson's _Life, Letters, and Speeches_,

Vol. 2, pp. 550-551.]

Nevertheless, it remained for Daniel S. Dickinson to stigmatise the

Democratic party. At the Union Square meeting he had burned his

bridges. It was said he had nowhere else to go; that the Hards went

out of business when the South went out of the Union; and that to the

Softs he was _non persona grata_. There was much truth in this

statement. But having once become a Radical his past affiliations gave

him some advantages. For more than twenty years he had been known

throughout the State as a Southern sympathiser. In the United States

Senate he stood with the South for slavery, and in the election of

1860 he voted for Breckinridge. He was the most conspicuous doughface

in New York. Now, he was an advocate of vigorous war and a pronounced

supporter of President Lincoln. This gave him the importance of a new

convert at a camp meeting. The people believed he knew what he was

talking about, and while his stories and apt illustrations, enriched

by a quick change in voice and manner, convulsed his audiences,

imbedded in his wit and rollicking fun were most convincing arguments

which appealed to the best sentiments of his hearers.[810] Indeed, it

is not too much to say that Daniel S. Dickinson, as an entertaining

and forceful platform speaker, filled the place in 1861 which John Van

Buren occupied in the Free-soil campaign in 1848.

[Footnote 810: "I have just finished a second reading of your speech in

Wyoming County, and with so much pleasure and admiration that I cannot

refrain from thanking you. It is a speech worthy of an American

statesman, and will command the attention of the country by its high

and generous patriotism, no less than by its eloquence and

power."--Letter of John K. Porter of Albany to D.S. Dickinson, August

23, 1861. _Dickinson's Life, Letters, and Speeches_, Vol. 2, p. 553.

Similar letters were written by Henry W. Rogers of Buffalo, William H.

Seward, Dr. N. Niles, and others.--_Ibid._, pp. 555, 559, 561.]

A single address by Horatio Seymour, delivered at Utica on October 28,

proved his right to speak for the Democratic party. He had a difficult

task to perform. Men had changed front in a day, and to one of his

views, holding rebellion as a thing to be crushed without impairing

existing conditions, it seemed imperative to divorce "revolutionary

emancipators" from the conservative patriots who loved their country

as it was. He manifested a desire to appear scrupulously loyal to the

Government, counseling obedience to constituted authorities, respect

for constitutional obligations, and a just and liberal support of the

President, in whose favour every presumption should be given. The

suspension of the writ of _habeas corpus_ and the long list of

arbitrary arrests had provoked Seymour as it did many conservative

Republicans, but however much individual rights may be violated, he

said, so long as the country is engaged in a struggle for its

existence, confidence, based upon the assumption that imperative

reasons exist for these unusual measures, must be reposed in the

Administration. This was the incarnation of loyalty.

But Seymour closed his address with an ugly crack of the whip.

Dropping his well-selected words with the skill of a practised

debater, he blended the history of past wrongs with those of the

present, thus harrowing his auditors into a frame of mind as

resentful and passionate as his own. When the public safety permits,

he said threateningly, there will be abundant time to condemn and

punish the authors of injustice and wrong, whether they occupy the

presidential chair or seats in the cabinet. "Let them remember the

teachings of history. Despotic governments do not love the agitators

that call them into existence. When Cromwell drove from Parliament the

latter-day saints and higher-law men of his day, and 'bade them cease

their babblings;' and when Napoleon scattered at the point of the

bayonet the Council of Five Hundred and crushed revolution beneath his

iron heel, they taught a lesson which should be heeded this day by men

who are animated by a vindictive piety or a malignant philanthropy....

It is the boast of the Briton that his house is his castle. However

humble it may be, the King cannot enter. Let it not be said that the

liberties of American citizens are less perfectly protected, or held

less sacred than are those of the subjects of a Crown."

The slavery question was less easily and logically handled. He denied

that it caused the war, but admitted that the agitators did, putting

into the same class "the ambitious man at the South, who desired a

separate confederacy," and "the ambitious men of the North, who reaped

a political profit from agitation." In deprecating emancipation he

carefully avoided the argument of military necessity, so forcibly put

by John Cochrane, and strangely overlooked the fact that the South, by

the act of rebellion, put itself outside the protection guaranteed

under the Constitution to loyal and law-abiding citizens. "If it be

true," he said, "that slavery must be abolished to save this Union,

then the people of the South should be allowed to withdraw themselves

from the Government which cannot give them the protection guaranteed

by its terms." Immediate emancipation, he continued, would not end the

contest. "It would be only the commencement of a lasting, destructive,

terrible domestic conflict. The North would not consent that four

millions of free negroes should live in their midst.... With what

justice do we demand that the South should be subjected to the evils,

the insecurity, and the loss of constitutional rights, involved in

immediate abolition?" Then, dropping into prophecy, the broad,

optimistic statesmanship of the forties passed into eclipse as he

declared that "we are either to be restored to our former position,

with the Constitution unweakened, the powers of the State unimpaired,

and the fireside rights of our citizens duly protected, or our whole

system of government is to fall!"

Seymour, in closing, very clearly outlined his future platform. "We

are willing to support this war as a means of restoring our Union, but

we will not carry it on in a spirit of hatred, malice, or revenge. We

cannot, therefore, make it a war for the abolition of slavery. We will

not permit it to be made a war upon the rights of the States. We shall

see that it does not crush out the liberties of the citizen, or the

reserved powers of the States. We shall hold that man to be as much a

traitor who urges our government to overstep its constitutional

powers, as he who resists the exercise of its rightful authority. We

shall contend that the rights of the States and the General Government

are equally sacred."[811]

[Footnote 811: _Public Record of Horatio Seymour_, pp. 32-43.]

If the campaign contributed to the South a certain degree of comfort,

reviving the hope that it would yet have a divided North to contend

against, the election, giving Dickinson over 100,000 majority,

furnished little encouragement. The People's party also carried both

branches of the Legislature, securing twenty out of thirty-two

senators, and seventy out of the one hundred and twenty-eight

assemblymen. Among the latter, Henry J. Raymond and Thomas G. Alvord,

former speakers, represented the undaunted mettle needed at Albany.

To add to the result so gratifying to the fusionists, George Opdyke

defeated Fernando Wood by a small plurality for mayor of New York.

Wood had long been known as a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He talked

reform and grew degenerate; he proclaimed patriotic views and held

disloyal sentiments; he listened respectfully to public opinion, and

defied it openly in his acts. He did not become a boss. It was ten

years later before William M. Tweed centralised Tammany's power in one

man. But Wood developed the system that made a boss possible. He

dominated the police, he organised the lawless, he allied himself with

the saloon, and he used the judiciary. In 1858, being forced out of

Tammany, he retreated like a wounded tiger to Mozart Hall, organised

an opposition society that took its name from the assembly room in

which it met, and declared with emphasis and expletives that he would

fight Tammany as long as he lived. From that moment his shadow had

kept sachems alarmed, and his presence had thrown conventions into

turmoil.

The arts of the card-sharper and thimble-rigger had been prodigally

employed to save the candidate of Mozart Hall. Even the sachems of

Tammany, to avert disaster, nominated James T. Brady, whose great

popularity it was believed would draw strength from both Opdyke and

Wood; but Brady refused to be used. Opdyke had been a liberal,

progressive Democrat of the Free-Soil type and a pioneer Republican.

He associated with Chase in the Buffalo convention of 1848 and

coöperated with Greeley in defeating Seward in 1860. He had also

enjoyed the career of a busy and successful merchant, and, although

fifty years old, was destined to take a prominent part in municipal

politics for the next two decades. One term in the Assembly summed up

his office-holding experience; yet in that brief and uneventful period

jobbers learned to shun him and rogues to fear him. This was one

reason why the brilliant and audacious leader of Mozart Hall, in his

death struggle with an honest man, suddenly assumed to be the champion

of public purity.

A Political History of the State of New York, Volumes 1-3 · 第 2 / 38 章