While secretary of state of New York, the decennial State census
was taken, and the appointment of three thousand census takers
involved as much pressure from congressmen, State senators,
assemblymen, and local leaders as if the places had been very
remunerative and permanent. I discovered what a power political
patronage is in party organization, because it developed that
the appointment of this large number of men, located in every town
in the State, could easily have been utilized for the formation
of a personal organization within the party.
I was exceedingly fond, as I am still and always have been,
of political questions, issues affecting the general government,
the State, or localities, party organizations, and political
leaders. So, while devoted to my profession and its work and
increasingly enjoying its labor and activities, politics became
an interesting recreation. With no desire for and with a
determination not to take any public office, to be called into
party councils, to be at an occasional meeting of the State
committee and a delegate to conventions were happy relief and
excursions from the routine of professional work, as golf is to
a tired business man or lawyer.
The nomination of General Grant for president by the Republicans
and of Horatio Seymour by the Democrats had made New York the
pivotal State in the national election. John T. Hoffman, the most
popular among the younger Democrats, was their nominee for governor.
The Republicans, with great unanimity, agreed upon John A. Griswold,
a congressman from the Troy district. Griswold was the idol
of his colleagues in the New York delegation in Congress, and
his attractive personality and demonstrated business ability had
made him a great favorite with politicians, business men, and
labor. The canvass for his nomination had been conducted with
great ardor by enthusiastic friends in all parts of the State, and
the delegations were nearly all practically pledged to his
nomination. No one dreamed that there would be an opposition
candidate.
On the train to the convention John Russell Young, then managing
editor of the New York Tribune under Mr. Greeley, came to me and
said: "Mr. Greeley has decided to be a candidate at the convention
for the nomination for governor. You are his friend, he lives in
your assembly district in Westchester County, and wishes you
to make the nomination speech."
I tried to argue the question with Young by portraying to him
the situation and the utter hopelessness of any attempt to break
the slate. He, however, insisted upon it, saying that all pledges
and preferences would disappear because of Greeley's services
to the party for so many years.
When we arrived at Syracuse and stated our determination to present
Mr. Greeley's name, it was hilariously received as a joke. Efforts
were made by friends of Greeley to persuade him not to undertake
such an impossible task, but they could produce no effect.
Mr. Griswold was put in nomination by Mr. Demers, one of the most
eloquent young men in the ministry of the State, and afterwards
an editor of power, and his speech filled every requirement.
Then I presented Mr. Greeley. At first the audience was hostile,
but as the recital of the great editor's achievements grew in
intensity and heat, the convention began to applaud and then
to cheer. A delegate hurled at me the question: "How about
Greeley signing the bail of Jefferson Davis?" The sentiment
seemed to change at once and cheers were followed by hisses.
Then there was supreme silence, and I immediately shouted:
"There are spots on the sun."
The effect was electrical. Delegates were on their feet, standing
on chairs, the air was full of hats, and the cheers deafening for
Greeley for some minutes. Mr. Demers, the preacher delegate,
lost his equilibrium, rushed up to me, shaking his fist excitedly,
and shouted: "Damn you! you have nominated him and beaten Griswold."
A recess was taken, and when the convention reconvened the ballot
demonstrated that if the organization is given time it can always
reform its shattered lines and show the efficiency of discipline.
When I met Mr. Greeley soon after, he said: "I cannot understand
why I desired the nomination for governor, nor why anybody should
want the office. There is nothing in it. No man now can name the
ten last governors of the State of New York."
Having tried that proposition many times since on the average
citizen, I have found that Mr. Greeley was absolutely right.
Any one who does not think so can try to solve that problem himself.
The meeting of the Electoral College at the Capitol at Albany
in 1864 was one of the most picturesque and interesting gatherings
ever held in the State. People came from all parts of the country
to witness the formality of the casting of the vote of New York
for Abraham Lincoln. The members of the college were, most of
them, men of great distinction in our public and civic life.
Horace Greeley was elected president of the college. The meeting
was held in the Senate chamber. When Mr. Greeley took the chair,
the desk in front of him made only his bust visible and with his
wonderfully intellectual face, his long gray hair brushed back, and
his solemn and earnest expression, he was one of the most impressive
figures I ever saw occupying the chair as a presiding officer.
One of the electors had failed to appear. Most of us knew that
under pressure of great excitement he was unable to resist his
convivial tendencies, but no one supposed that Mr. Greeley could
by any possibility know of his weakness. After waiting some
time one of the electors moved that the college take a recess for
half a day. Mr. Greeley turned very pale and, before putting
the question, made a little speech, something like this, in a voice
full of emotion, I might almost say tears: "My brethren, we are
met here upon the most solemn occasion of our lives in this crisis
of the republic. Upon the regularity of what we do here this day
may depend whether the republic lives or dies. I would, therefore,
suggest that we sit here in silence until our absent brother, who
is doubtless kept from us by some good reason, shall appear and
take his seat."
The effect of this address upon the Electoral College and the
surrounding audience was great. Many were in tears, and the
women spectators, most of whom were in mourning for those lost
during the war, were all crying.
As secretary of state it was my duty to have the papers all
prepared for execution as soon as the college had voted, and
to attach to them the great seal of the State, and then they were
sent by special messenger to Washington to be delivered to the
House of Representatives. Mr. Greeley, at the opening of the
session, said to me: "Chauncey, as I am not very familiar with
parliamentary law, I wish you would take a seat on the steps
beside me here, so that I can consult you if necessary." After
this effective and affecting speech he leaned down until he was
close to my ear, and said: "Chauncey, how long do you think it
will be before that d---- drunken fool will be able to return and
take his seat?"
General Grant's administration soon aroused great opposition.
Carl Schurz, Charles Francis Adams, and other leaders became
very hostile to the administration and to a second term. The
country was longing for peace. The "carpet-bag" governments
of the South were full of corruption and incompetence and imposed
upon the Southern States intolerable burdens of debt. The feeling
was becoming general that there should be universal amnesty in
order that the best and most capable people of the South could
return to the management of their own affairs.
This led to the calling of a convention of the Republicans, which
nominated Horace Greeley for president. I had no desire nor
the slightest intention of being involved in this controversy, but
was happily pursuing my profession, with increasing fondness for
private life.
One day Commodore Vanderbilt, who had a strong friendship for
Mr. Greeley, but took no interest in politics, said to me:
"Mr. Greeley has been to see me and is very anxious for you to
assist him. If you can aid him in any way I wish you would."
Afterwards Mr. Greeley called at my house. "Chauncey," he said
(he always called me Chauncey), "as you know, I have been nominated
by the Liberal Republican convention for President of the United
States. If I can get the indorsement of the Democratic party my
election is assured. My Democratic friends tell me that in order
to accomplish that I must demonstrate that I have a substantial
Republican following. So we have called a meeting at Rochester,
which is the capital of the strongest Republican counties of the
State. It is necessary to have for the principal speaker some
Republican of State and national reputation. I have selected
you for that purpose."
To my protest that I did not wish to enter into the contest nor
to take any part in active politics, he said, very indignantly:
"I have supported you in my paper and personally during the whole
of your career. I thought that if anybody was capable of gratitude
it is you, and I have had unfortunate experiences with many."
I never was able to resist an appeal of this kind, so I said
impulsively: "Mr. Greeley, I will go."
The meeting was a marvellous success for the purpose for which
it was called. It was purely a Republican gathering. The crowd
was several times larger than the hall could accommodate.
Henry R. Selden, one of the judges of the Court of Appeals and
one of the most eminent and respected Republicans of the State,
presided. The two hundred vice-presidents and secretaries upon
the platform I had known intimately for years as Republican leaders
of their counties and districts. The demonstration so impressed
the Democratic State leaders that at the national Democratic
convention Mr. Greeley was indorsed.
There were two State conventions held simultaneously that year,
one Democratic and one Liberal Republican. In the division of
offices the Democratic party, being the larger, was given the
governorship and the Liberal Republicans had the lieutenant-governorship.
I was elected as the presiding officer of the Liberal Republican
convention and also was made unanimously its nominee for
lieutenant-governor. The Democratic convention nominated Francis
Kernan, one of the most distinguished lawyers of the State, and
afterwards United States senator.
If the election had been held early in the canvass there is little
doubt but that Mr. Greeley would have carried the State by an
overwhelming majority. His difficulty was that for a quarter of a
century, as editor of the New York Tribune, he had been the most
merciless, bitter, and formidable critic and opponent of the
Democratic party. The deep-seated animosity against him was
fully aroused as the campaign proceeded by a propaganda which
placed in the hands of every Democrat these former slashing
editorials of the New York Tribune. Their effect upon the Democratic
voters was evident after a while, and when in the September election
North Carolina went Republican, a great mass of Republicans, who
had made up their minds to support Mr. Greeley, went back to their
party, and he was overwhelmingly defeated.
In the early part of his canvass Mr. Greeley made a tour of the
country. There have been many such travels by presidential
candidates, but none like this. His march was a triumphal
procession, and his audiences enormous and most enthusiastic.
The whole country marvelled at his intellectual versatility. He
spoke every day, and often several times a day, and each speech
was absolutely new. There seemed to be no limit to his originality,
his freshness, or the new angles from which to present the issues
of the canvass. No candidate was ever so bitterly abused and
so slandered.
A veteran speaker has in the course of his career original
experiences. The cordiality and responsiveness of his audience
is not always an index of their agreement with his argument.
During the campaign Mr. Greeley came to me and said: "I have
received encouraging accounts from the State of Maine. I have
a letter from such a place"--naming it--"from the principal of the
academy there. He writes me that the Congregational minister,
who has the largest church in town, the bank president, the
manufacturer, the principal lawyer, and himself are lifelong
readers of the Tribune, and those steadfast Republicans intend
to support me. He thinks if they can have a public meeting with
a speaker of national reputation, the result might be an overturn in
my favor in this community, which is almost unanimously Republican,
that it may influence the whole State, and," continued Mr. Greeley,
"he suggests you as the speaker, and I earnestly ask you to go."
When I arrived at the place I was entertained by the manufacturer.
The audience crowded the largest hall in the town. The principal
of the academy presided, the Congregational minister opened
the exercises with a prayer, and I was introduced and received
with great cordiality.
For such an audience my line of talk was praising General Grant
as the greatest general of modern times, and how largely the
preservation of the Union depended upon his military genius.
Then to picture the tremendous responsibilities of the presidency
and the impossibility of a man, however great as a soldier, with
a lifetime of military education, environment, and experiences,
succeeding in civil office, especially as great a one as the
presidency of the United States. Then came, naturally, a eulogium
of Horace Greeley, the maker of public opinion, the moulder of
national policies, the most eloquent and resourceful leader of
the Republican party since its formation. The audience cheered
with great enthusiasm all these allusions to General Grant,
and responded with equal fervor to my praise of Horace Greeley.
When I concluded they stood up and gave me cordial cheers, and
the presiding officer came forward and said: "I now suggest that
we close this meeting with three rousing cheers for Horace Greeley."
The principal of the academy, the manufacturer, the minister,
the lawyer, a very few of the audience, and several women responded.
After this frost a farmer rose gradually, and as he began to let
out link after link of his body, which seemed about seven feet
tall, he reached his full height, and then in a voice which could
be heard a mile shouted: "Three cheers for General Grant!" The
response nearly took the roof off the house. I left the State
the next morning and told Mr. Greeley that he could not carry Maine.
Among the amusing episodes of the campaign was one which occurred
at an open-door mass meeting at Watertown, N. Y. John A. Dix had
been nominated for governor on the Republican ticket, and I was
speaking of him and his career. He had changed from one party to
the other five or six times in the course of his long career, and
each time received an office. There was great doubt as to his
age, because in the American Encyclopaedia the date of his birth
was given as of a certain year, and in the French Encyclopaedia,
which published his biography when he was minister to France,
a widely different date was given. In the full tide of partisan
oratory I went over these changes of political activity, and how
each one had been rewarded, also the doubt as to his age, and
then I shouted: "I have discovered among the records of the
Pilgrim Fathers that when they landed on Plymouth Rock they found
John A. Dix standing on the rock and announcing that unless they
made him justice of the peace he would join the Indians." An
indignant farmer, who could not hold his wrath any longer, shouted:
"That's a lie! The Pilgrims landed more than two hundred and
fifty years ago." I saw that my interrupter had swallowed my
bait, hook, and line, bob and sinker, pole and all, and shouted
with great indignation: "Sir, I have narrated that historical
incident throughout the State, from Montauk Point to Niagara Falls,
and you are the first man who has had the audacity to question it."
Another farmer stepped up to the heckler and said: "Here is my
hat, neighbor. You can keep it. I am going bareheaded for the
rest of my life." In his uproarious laughter the crowd all joined.
It was years before the questioning farmer could visit Watertown
without encountering innumerable questions as to when the Pilgrims
landed on Plymouth Rock.
The last meeting of the campaign was held at Mr. Greeley's home
at Chappaqua in Westchester County. We all knew that the contest
was hopeless and defeat sure. I was one of the speakers, both
as his neighbor and friend, and accompanied him to New York.
A rough crowd on the train jeered him as we rode along. We went
to his office, and there he spoke of the lies that had been told
about him, and which had been believed by the public; of the
cartoons which had misrepresented him, especially those of Tom Nast,
and of which there were many lying about. Leaning upon his desk,
a discouraged and hopeless man, he said: "I have given my life
to the freeing of the slaves, and yet they have been made to
believe that I was a slave driver. It has been made to appear,
and people have been made to believe, that I was wrong or faithless,
or on the other side of the reforms which I have advocated all my
life. I will be beaten in the campaign and I am ruined for life."
He was overcome with emotion, and it was the saddest interview
I ever had with any one. It was really the breaking of a great
heart. He died before the votes were counted.
There was instantly a tremendous revulsion of popular feeling
in the country. He had lost his wife during the campaign, and
the people woke up suddenly to the sorrows under which he had
labored, to his genius as a journalist, to his activity as a
reformer, and to a usefulness that had no parallel among his
contemporaries. The president-elect, General Grant, and the
vice-president-elect, Schuyler Colfax, attended the funeral, and
without distinction of party his death was universally mourned.
After the election, in consultation on railroad affairs,
Commodore Vanderbilt said to me, "I was very glad you were
defeated," which was his way of saying that he did not want me
either to leave the railroad or to have other duties which would
impair my efficiency.
With the tragic death of Mr. Greeley the Liberal Republican
movement ended. Most of us who had followed him resumed at once
our Republican party relations and entered actively into its work
in the next campaign. The revolt was forgiven, except in very few
instances, and the Greeley men went back to their old positions
in their various localities and became prominent in the official
life of the State. I, as usual, in the fall took my vacation on
the platform for the party.