The triumph of the Democrats in Maine in the September election,
1880, had a most depressing effect upon the Republicans and an
equally exhilarating one upon the Democrats. The paralyzing effect
of the simple utterances in popular elections almost makes one
think that every candidate should follow Matthew Quay's famous advice
to his candidate for governor: "Beaver, keep your mouth shut."
In the campaign when General Winfield Scott ran for the presidency,
he began an important communication by stating that he would answer
as soon as he had taken a hasty plate of soup. That "hasty plate
of soup" appeared in cartoons, was pictured on walls, etc., in every
form of ridicule, and was one of the chief elements of his defeat.
When towards the close of the canvass Garfield had succeeded
in making the tariff the leading issue, General Hancock was asked
what were his views on the tariff. (You must remember that the
general was a soldier and had never been in politics.) The general
answered: "The tariff was a purely local issue in Pennsylvania."
The whole country burst into a gale of laughter, and Hancock's
campaign had a crack which was never mended.
There never were two more picturesque opponents than General Garfield
and General Hancock. Hancock was the idol of the Army of the
Potomac, and everybody remembered McClellan's despatch after one
of the bloodiest battles of the Peninsula campaign: "Hancock was
superb to-day." He was an exceedingly handsome man and one of
the finest figures in uniform in the whole country.
General Garfield also presented a very fine appearance. He was
a large man, well-proportioned, and with very engaging manners.
He also had an unusual faculty for attractive public addresses,
not only on politics, but many subjects, especially education and
patriotism. I never can forget when the news of Lincoln's
assassination reached New York. The angry and dangerous crowd
which surged up and down Broadway and through Wall Street threatened
to wreck the banking and business houses which were supposed
to be sympathetic with the Confederates.
Garfield suddenly appeared on the balcony of the Custom House
in Wall Street and succeeded in stilling the crowd. With a voice
that reached up to Trinity Church he urged calmness in thought
and action, deprecated any violence, and then, in an impassioned
appeal to hopefulness notwithstanding the tragedy, exclaimed
impulsively: "God reigns and the Republic still lives."
I was requested by some friends to visit General Garfield and
see how he felt on the political situation, which during the
campaign of 1880 did not look hopeful. I took the next train,
spent the day with him, and was back in New York the following
day.
When I left the train at Cleveland in the morning the newsboys
pushed at me a Cleveland Democratic daily, with a rooster's picture
covering the whole front page, and the announcement that the
Democrats had carried Maine. The belief was universal then that
"as Maine goes so goes the Union," and whichever party carried
that State in the September election, the country would follow
in the presidential contest in November.
I took the next train to Mentor, the residence of General Garfield.
I found at the station a score or more of country wagons and
carriages waiting for passengers. I said to the farmers: "Will
any of you take me up to General Garfield's residence?" One of
them answered: "We will all take you up this morning, but if you
had come yesterday you would have had to wait your turn."
It was a startling instance of the variableness of public opinion.
Delegations from everywhere, on their way to extend greetings
to the candidate, had read the morning papers and turned back,
deciding not to go.
I found Garfield struggling bravely to overcome the depression
which he felt. He was in close touch with the situation everywhere,
and discussed it with discrimination and hopefulness.
The most affecting incident occurred while I was talking with him.
His mother passed through the room and, patting him on the back,
said: "James, the neighbors think it is all right; they are raising
a banner at the corner."
Two old soldier friends came in, and the noonday dinner was a rare
intellectual feast. The general was a brilliant conversationalist.
His mind turned first to the accidents of careers. He asked me if
there was not a time in my early struggles when if Providence had
offered a modest certainty I would not have exchanged the whole
future for it, and then continued: "There was a period in my early
struggles as a teacher when, if I had been offered the principalship
of an endowed academy, with an adequate salary, with the condition
that I must devote myself to its interests and abandon everything
else, I am quite sure I would have accepted."
Of course, the hopeful application of this incident to the Maine
defeat was that, no such offer having been made or accepted, he
had made a glorious career in the army, rising to the head of the
General Staff, and for twenty years had been the leading figure
in the House of Representatives, and was now a recently elected
United States senator and chosen candidate for president.
Then he turned to the instances where victory had been plucked
from defeat in battles. After citing many instances he gave a word
picture of the Battle of Chickamauga which was the finest thing of
the kind I have ever heard or ever read.
After his two comrades left I told him of the interest which my
friends were taking in his canvass, and that I would add their
contribution to the campaign committee. The general instantly
was exultant and jubilant. He fairly shouted: "Have I not proved
to you all day that there is always a silver lining to the cloud,
and that the darkest hour is just before dawn?"
It was one of the sources of General Garfield's success as an
orator that he was very emotional and sentimental. He happily
carried with him amid all struggles and disappointments, as well
as successes in the making of a career, the buoyant, hopeful,
companionable, and affectionate interests which characterize
the ambitious senior who has just left college to take his plunge
into the activities of life.
So far as our State was concerned, a great deal turned upon the
attitude of Senator Conkling. His great and triumphant speech
of four hours at the Academy of Music in New York brought all
his friends into line, but the greatest help which General Garfield
received was from the generous, unselfish, and enthusiastic support
of General Grant.
General Grant had been the leading candidate in the convention
which finally nominated Garfield, but he voluntarily appeared upon
the platform in several States and at Garfield's home. His brief
but most effective speeches gathered around Garfield not only the
whole of the old-soldier vote but those who had become disaffected
or indifferent because of the result of the national Republican
convention.
There probably was no canvass where the Republican orator ever
had so many opportunities for the exercise of every faculty which
he possessed. His candidate had made an excellent record as
a soldier in the field and as a statesman in Congress, as an
educator and a popular speaker on questions of vital interest,
while the opposition presented abundant opportunities for attack.
After the presidential election came the meeting of the New York
State legislature for the choosing of a United States senator.
The legislature was overwhelmingly Republican, and the organization
or machine Republicans were in a large majority. The assembly was
organized and the appointment of committees used to make certain
the election of an organization man.
A very unusual thing happened. The forces of the organization
were divided between two candidates: Thomas C. Platt and
Richard Crowley. Mr. Conkling had not declared his preference
for either, as they were both devoted friends of his, though he had
the power to have made a selection and have that selection accepted
by the legislature. Vice-President-elect Chester A. Arthur appeared
as manager for Mr. Crowley. Platt conducted his own canvass.
I was called to a meeting in New York, where Mr. Blaine, secretary
of state, was present. Mr. Blaine said that administration managers
had made a thorough canvass of the legislature and they had found
that I was the only one who could control enough anti-organization
votes to be elected, and, therefore, General Garfield and his
friends had decided that I must enter the race. I did not want
to do it, nor did I want the senatorship at that time. However,
it seemed a plain duty. A canvass showed that Mr. Platt,
Mr. Crowley, and myself had about an equal number of votes.
Of course, Mr. Blaine's object was, knowing that Senator Conkling
would be hostile to the administration, to prevent his having
a colleague who would join with him, and thus place the State
of New York against the policies of the incoming president.
After the canvass had been going on for some time, Mr. Platt came
to me and asked why I was in it. I told him frankly that I was in
it to see, if possible, that the senator-elect should support
the administration. He said: "Very well, I will do that."
I immediately called together my supporters. Mr. Platt appeared
before them and stated that if elected he would support the
president and his administration in every respect. He was asked
if he would vote for the confirmation of appointees whom the
president might select who were specially in disfavor with
Senator Conkling, conspicuously Senator William H. Robertson.
Mr. Platt said, "Yes, I will." My friends all went over to him
and he was elected.
General Garfield was inaugurated in March, 1881, and his
difficulties began with his Cabinet. Senator Conkling, who saw
clearly that with Blaine in the Cabinet his organization was in
danger in New York, did not want any of his friends to accept
a Cabinet position. The navy was offered to Levi P. Morton, but
at the request of Senator Conkling he declined.
When the time came for appointments in the Custom House of New York,
General Garfield sent in the name of William H. Robertson, who was
the leader of the anti-machine forces in the State. Mr. Conkling
at once demanded that Mr. Platt should join with him in inducing
the Senate to reject the nomination. Under the rule of senatorial
courtesy the Senate would undoubtedly have done this if the two
New York senators had acted together. Mr. Platt told Mr. Conkling
of his pledge to the members of the legislature, and that he must
abide by it, and, as he told me, suggested to Mr. Conkling that,
as he always had been his friend and did not want any breach
with him, the only thing to be done, consistent with honor, was
for both of them to resign and go back to the legislature for
re-election, with a mandate which should enable them to reject
the appointment of Judge Robertson and all similar appointments.
As the legislature was overwhelmingly Republican, and the organization
had a large majority, it seemed to both senators that they would
be returned immediately. But it is singular how intense partisanship
will blind the ablest and shrewdest politicians. Senators Conkling
and Platt were among the ablest and most capable political managers
of their time. What they did not reckon with was that the people
of the State of New York, or, rather, the Republicans of the State,
having just elected a president, would not view favorably the
legislature of the State sending two senators to embarrass their
own administration. There was hardly a newspaper in the State
or in the country that did not take a hostile attitude.
Mr. Blaine again came to New York and insisted upon my entering
the canvass, and that I was the only one who could get the whole
of the anti-organization vote.
With the Democrats voting for their own candidate, and the
anti-organization men voting for me, it was impossible for any
one to have a majority. The fight was most bitter. The ineffectual
ballotting went on every day for months. Then Garfield was
assassinated. The leader of the Conkling forces came to me and
said: "You have a majority of the Republican members now voting
for you. Of course, the antagonism has become so great on your
candidacy that we cannot vote for you, but if you will withdraw,
we will go into caucus."
I instantly accepted the proposition, saw my own people, and we
selected Warner Miller to represent the administration, and
Congressman Lapham, a very able and capable lieutenant of
Mr. Conkling, to represent the organization. The caucus unanimously
nominated them and they were elected. Senator Conkling immediately
settled in New York to practise law and retired from political
activities.
It is the irony of fate that General Garfield, who did more than
any other statesman to bring the public from its frenzy after
the murder of Lincoln back to a calm and judicious consideration
of national conditions, should himself be the victim, so soon
after his inauguration, of an assassin.
Lincoln was assassinated in April, after his second inauguration
in March, while Garfield was shot in the railway station at
Washington July 2, following his inauguration. The president
was removed to a cottage at Long Branch, N. J., and lingered
there with great suffering for over two months.
I was living at Long Branch that summer and going up and down
every day to my office in New York. The whole country was in
alternate emotions of hope and despair as the daily bulletins
announced the varying phases of the illustrious patient's condition.
The people also were greatly impressed at his wonderful self-control,
heroic patience, endurance, and amiability.
It was the experience of a lifetime in the psychology of human
nature to meet, night after night, the people who gathered at
the hotel at Long Branch. Most of them were office-seekers.
There were those who had great anticipations of Garfield's recovery,
and others, hidebound machinists and organization men, who thought
if Garfield died and Vice-President Arthur became president, he
would bring in the old order as it existed while he was one of its
chief administrators.
There were present very able and experienced newspaper men,
representing every great journal in the country. The evening
sessions of these veteran observers of public men were most
interesting. Their critical analysis of the history and motives
of the arriving visitors would have been, if published, the most
valuable volume of "Who's Who" ever published. When President
Garfield died the whole country mourned.