XIII. THE RISE OF TWEEDISM…

XIII. THE RISE OF TWEEDISM

1867

The election of Roscoe Conkling to the United States Senate made him the most prominent, if not the most influential politician in New York. "No new senator," said a Washington paper, "has ever made in so short a time such rapid strides to a commanding position in that body."[1123]

[Footnote 1123: Washington Chronicle, March 28, 1867.]

Conkling was not yet established, however. His friends who wished to make him chairman of the Republican State convention which assembled at Syracuse on September 24, 1867, discovered that he was not beloved by the Radical leaders. He had a habit of speaking his own mind, and instead of confining his thoughts to the committee room, or whispering them in the ears of a few alleged leaders, it was his custom to take the public into his confidence. Horace Greeley, jealous of his prerogative, disapproved such independence, and Governor Fenton, the Tribune's protégé, had apprehensions for his own leadership. Besides, it was becoming more apparent each day that the men who did not like Greeley and preferred other leadership to Fenton's, thought well of Conkling. He was not a wild partisan. Although a stiff Radical he had no reason to feel bitter toward men who happened to differ with him on governmental policies. His life did not run back into the quarrels between Greeley and Thurlow Weed, and he had no disposition to be tangled up with them; but when he discovered that Greeley had little use for him, he easily formed friendships among men who had little use for Greeley. It was noticeable that Conkling did not criticise Raymond's erratic run after Andrew Johnson. He heard Shellabarger's stinging reply, he listened to the editor's hopeless appeal for support, and he voted against the resolution of confidence in the President, but he added nothing to Raymond's humiliation. Perhaps this accounted for the latter's appreciation of the young Senator. At all events, the Times complimented while the Tribune remained silent. It was evident the great Republican organ did not intend advertising the ability of the strenuous, self-asserting Senator, who was rapidly becoming a leader.

The existence of this jealousy quickly betrayed itself to Conkling's admirers at the State convention. On the surface men were calm and responsive. But in forming the committee on permanent organisation Fenton's supporters, who easily controlled the convention, secretly arranged to make Lyman Tremaine chairman. When this plan came to the ears of the Conkling men, one of them, with the shrewdness of a genuine politician, surprised the schemers by moving to instruct the committee to report the Senator for permanent president. This made it necessary to accept or squarely to reject him, and wishing to avoid open opposition, the Governor's managers allowed the convention to acquiesce in the motion amid the vociferous cheers of the Senator's friends.

Conkling's speech on this occasion was one of interest. He outlined a policy for which, he contended, his party in the Empire State ought to stand. This was a new departure in New York. Heretofore, its chosen representatives, keeping silent until a way had been mapped out in Washington or elsewhere, preferred to follow. Conkling preferred to lead. There was probably not a Republican in the State capable of forming an opinion who did not know that from the moment Conkling became a senator the division of the party into two stout factions was merely a question of time. That time had not yet come, but even then it was evident to the eye of a close observer that the action of the Radicals, led by Fenton, turned in a measure upon their distrust of Conkling and his supporters.

This was manifest in the cool treatment accorded the New York City delegates who represented the bolting Republicans of the year before. Conkling's friends, disposed to be liberal, argued that the vote of a "returning sinner" counted as much on election day as that of a saint. On the other hand, the Fenton forces, while willing to benefit by the suffrage of Conservatives, were disinclined to admit to the convention men tainted with the sin of party treason, who would naturally strengthen their adversaries. In the end, after a fierce struggle which absorbed an entire session, the Conservatives were left out.

Opposition to the State officials who had shown a disposition to favour the Senator was less open but no less effective. The exposure of canal frauds in the preceding winter, showing that for a period of six years trifling causes had been deemed sufficient to displace low bids for high ones, thus greatly enriching a canal ring at the expense of the State, involved only the Canal Commissioner. Indeed, every reason existed why Barlow and his soldier associates whose army records had strengthened their party in 1865 should receive the usual endorsement of a renomination; but to avoid what, it was claimed, might otherwise be regarded an invidious distinction, the Greeley Radicals cleverly secured a new ticket.[1124] "In their zeal to become honest," said Horatio Seymour, "the Republicans have pitched overboard all the officials who have not robbed the treasury."[1125]

[Footnote 1124: The following were nominated: Secretary of State, James B. McKean, Saratoga; Comptroller, Calvin T. Hulburd, St. Lawrence; Treasurer, Theodore B. Gates, Ulster; Attorney-General, Joshua M. Van Cott, Kings; State Engineer, Archibald C. Powell, Onondaga; Canal Commissioner, John M. Hammond, Allegany; Prison Inspector, Gilbert De Lamatyr, Wyoming; Court of Appeals, Charles Mason, Madison. Of those selected, McKean and Hulburd had served two terms each in Congress.]

[Footnote 1125: New York World, October 4, 1867.]

The platform no longer revealed differences in the party. It affirmed impartial suffrage, protested against maladministration and corruption in State affairs, supported Congress in its policy of reconstruction, and rebuked all tampering with the financial obligations of the Union. Upon these plain, simple issues Conservatives and Radicals stood united. Those who, in 1865, thought the restoration of the Union on the President's plan would have been wise, conceded that under the changed conditions in 1867 it would be impracticable as well as unsafe and impolitic. Indeed, in his conduct of the Times, Raymond was again in accord with the Republicans, but he did not seek to renew his former relations with the party. Being complimented for "keeping in the background,"[1126] he replied that "when, a year ago, he declined a re-election to Congress, it was for the purpose of devoting himself wholly to the editorship of the Times, a position more to his taste than any other, and which carries with it as much of influence, honour, and substantial reward as any office in the gift of Presidents or political parties."[1127] Had he appreciated the truth of this wise statement in 1864 his sun might not have set in a cloud. "His parliamentary failure," says Blaine, "was a keen disappointment to him, and was not improbably one among many causes which cut short a brilliant and useful life."[1128]

[Footnote 1126: Buffalo Commercial Advertiser, September 25, 1867.]

[Footnote 1127: New York Times, September 27, 1867.]

[Footnote 1128: James G. Blaine, Twenty Years of Congress, Vol. 2, p. 140.]

The passing of Raymond and the advent of John T. Hoffman as a factor in the State illustrate the curious work often wrought by political changes. Raymond's efforts in behalf of reconciliation and peace happened to concur in point of time with the demands of Tammany for Hoffman and home-rule, and the latter proved the more potent.

Hoffman's appearance in State politics marked the beginning of a new era. The increased majority in New York City in 1866, so disproportionate to other years, and the naturalisation of immigrants at the rate of one thousand a day, regardless of the period of their residence in the country,[1129] indicated that a new leader of the first magnitude had appeared, and that methods which differentiated all moral principles had been introduced. For ten years William Marcy Tweed had been sachem or grand sachem of Tammany and chairman of its general committee. In climbing the ladder of power he had had his ups and downs. He endured several defeats, notably for assistant alderman, for re-election to Congress after a service of one term, and for sheriff of New York County. But his popularity suffered no eclipse. Ever since he led the ropes as a volunteer fireman, carrying a silver-mounted trumpet, a white fire coat, and a stiff hat, the young men of his class had made a hero of the tall, graceful, athletic chief. His smiles were winning and his manners magnetic. From leading a fire company he quickly led the politics of his district and then of his ward, utilising his popularity by becoming in 1859 a member of the Board of Supervisors, and in 1863 deputy street commissioner. As supervisor he influenced expenditures and the making of contracts, while the street deputy-ship gave him control of thousands of labourers and sent aldermen after him for jobs for their ward supporters. Thus intrenched he dropped chair-making, a business inherited from his father, put up the sign of lawyer, and became known to friends and foes as Boss Tweed, a title to which he did not object.

[Footnote 1129: Gustavus Myers, History of Tammany Hall, p. 250.]

Like Hoffman, Tweed had a most agreeable personality. Always scrupulously neat in his dress and suave in manner, he possessed the outward characteristics of a gentleman, being neither boastful nor noisy, and never addicted to the drink or tobacco habit. To his friends the warmth of his greeting and the heartiness of his hand-shake evidenced the active sympathies expressed in numberless deeds of kindness and charity. Yet he could be despotic. If he desired a motion carried in his favour he neglected to call for negative votes, warning opponents with significant glances of the danger of incurring his displeasure. Once, when his ruling as chairman of a Tammany nominating convention raised a storm of protests, he blocked the plans of his adversaries by adjourning the meeting and turning off the gas.

Although Tweed, perhaps, was often at fault in his estimate of men who frequently deceived him, he selected his immediate lieutenants with intelligent care. In 1857 he had George G. Barnard elected recorder and Peter B. Sweeny district attorney. About the same time Richard B. Connolly became county clerk. When Barnard's term expired in 1860 he advanced him to the Supreme Court and took up Hoffman for recorder. Later Hoffman became mayor and Connolly city comptroller. After Hoffman's second promotion A. Oakey Hall was made mayor. In his way each of these men contributed strength to the political junta which was destined to grow in influence and power until it seemed invincible. Hall had been a versifier, a writer of tales in prose, a Know-nothing, a friend of Seward, and an anti-Tammany Democrat. As a clubman, ambitious for social distinction, he was known as "elegant Oakey." Although "without ballast," as Tweed admitted, he was indispensable as an interesting speaker of considerable force, who yielded readily to the demands of a boss. Connolly, suave and courtly, was at heart so mean and crafty that Tweed himself held him in the utmost contempt as a "Slippery Dick." But he was a good bookkeeper. Besides, however many leeches he harboured about him, his intimate knowledge of Tweed's doings kept him in power. Perhaps Barnard, more in the public eye than any other, had less legal learning than wit, yet in spite of his foppish dress he never lacked sufficient dignity to float the appearance of a learned judge. He was a handsome man, tall and well proportioned, with peculiarly brilliant eyes, a jet black moustache, light olive complexion, and a graceful carriage. Whenever in trouble Tweed could safely turn to him without disappointment. But the man upon whom the Boss most relied was Sweeny. He was a great manipulator of men, acquiring the cognomen of Peter Brains Sweeny in recognition of his admitted ability. He had little taste for public life. Nevertheless, hidden from sight, without conscience and without fear, his sly, patient intrigues surpassed those of his great master. The Tribune called him "the Mephistopheles of Tammany."[1130]

[Footnote 1130: New York Tribune, March 5, 1868.]

The questionable doings of some of these men had already attracted the attention of the press. It was not then known that a thirty-five per cent. rake-off on all bills paid by the city was divided between Tweed and Connolly, or that Sweeny had stolen enough to pay $60,000 for his confirmation as city chamberlain by the Board of Aldermen;[1131] but the prompt subscription of $175,000 by a few members of Tammany for the erection of a new hall on Fourteenth Street, the cornerstone of which was laid on July 4, 1867, showed that some folks were rapidly getting rich.[1132] In the year after Hoffman's defeat for governor the aim of Tweed and his lieutenants was to carry city elections and control State conventions, with dreams of making Hoffman governor and then President, and of electing Tweed to the United States Senate.

[Footnote 1131: Tweed's testimony, Document No. 8, p. 105.]

[Footnote 1132: Gustavus Myers, History of Tammany Hall, p. 257.]

With this ambitious scheme in view the Tammany braves, reaching Albany on October 3, 1867, demanded that Hoffman be made president of the Democratic State convention. It was a bold claim for a defeated candidate. After Fenton's election in 1864 Seymour had deemed it proper to remain in the background, and for two years did not attend a State convention. He had now reappeared, and the up-State delegates, delighted at his return, insisted upon his election as president. Instantly this became the issue. The friends of the Governor pointed to his achievements and to his distinguished position as the great apostle of Democracy. On the other hand, Tammany, with its usual assurance, talked of its 50,000 majority given the Democratic ticket in 1866, declared that Seymour had had enough, and that Hoffman needed the endorsement to secure his re-election as mayor in the following December. Thus the contest raged. Tammany was imperious and the country delegates stubborn. One year before these men had allowed their better judgment to be coerced into a condemnation of John A. Dix because of his alleged ill treatment of Democrats; but now, standing like a stone wall for Seymour, they followed their convictions as to the best interests of the party. In the end Hoffman became temporary chairman and Seymour president. The generous applause that greeted Hoffman's appearance must have satisfied his most ardent friend until he witnessed the spontaneous and effusive welcome accorded Seymour. If it was noisy, it was also hearty. It had the ring of real joy, mingled with an admiration that is bestowed only upon a leader who captivates the imagination by recalling glorious victory and exciting high hopes of future success.[1133]

[Footnote 1133: New York World, October 4, 1867.]

The selection of candidates provoked no real contests,[1134] but the platform presented serious difficulties. The Democratic party throughout the country found it hard to digest the war debt. Men who believed it had been multiplied by extravagance and corruption in the prosecution of an unholy war, thought it should be repudiated outright, while many others, especially in the Western States, would pay it in the debased currency of the realm. To people whose circulating medium before the war was mainly the bills of wild-cat banks, greenbacks seemed like actual money and the best money they had ever known. It was attractive and everywhere of uniform value. Moreover, as the Government was behind it the necessity for gold and silver no longer appealed to them. The popular policy, therefore, made the 5-20 bonds payable in greenbacks instead of coin. Of the whole interest-bearing debt of $2,200,000,000, there were outstanding about $1,600,000,000 of 5-20's, or securities convertible into them, and of these $500,000,000 became redeemable in 1867. Their redemption in gold, worth from 132 to 150, it was argued, would not only be a discrimination in favour of the rich, but a foolish act of generosity, since the law authorising the bonds stipulated that the interest should be paid in "coin" and the principal in "dollars." As greenbacks were lawful money they were also "dollars" within the meaning of the legal tender act, and although an inflation of the currency, made necessary by the redemption of bonds, might increase the price of gold and thus amount to practical repudiation, it would in nowise modify the law making the bonds payable in paper "dollars." This was known as the "Ohio idea." It was a popular scheme with debtors, real estate owners, shopkeepers, and business men generally, who welcomed inflation as an antidote for the Secretary of the Treasury's contraction of the currency. Democratic politicians accepted this policy the more readily, too, because of the attractive cry--"the same currency for the bondholder and the ploughboy."

[Footnote 1134: The following persons were nominated: Secretary of State, Homer A. Nelson, Dutchess; Comptroller, William F. Allen, Oswego; Treasurer, Wheeler H. Bristol, Tioga; Attorney-General, Marshal B. Champlain, Allegany; State Engineer, Van R. Richmond, Wayne; Canal Commissioner, John F. Fay, Monroe; Prison Inspector, Nicholas B. Scheu, Erie; Court of Appeals, Martin Grover, Allegany.]

There was much of this sentiment in New York. Extreme Democrats, taught that the debt was corruptly incurred, resented the suggestion of its payment in gold. "Bloated bondholders" became a famous expression with them, to whom it seemed likely that the $700,000,000 of United States notes, if inflated to an amount sufficient to pay the bonds, would ultimately force absolute repudiation. These views found ready acceptance among delegates to the State convention, and to put himself straight upon the record, John T. Hoffman, in his speech as temporary chairman, boldly declared "the honour of the country pledged to the payment of every dollar of the national debt, honestly and fully, in the spirit as well as in the letter of the bond."[1135]

[Footnote 1135: New York World, October 4, 1867.]

Seymour, with his usual dexterity, declined to commit himself or his party to any decided policy. Although he would "keep the public faith," and "not add repudiation to the list of crimes which destroy confidence in republican governments," his arguments shed no light on the meaning of those words. He declared that "waste and corruption had piled up the national debt," and that it was "criminal folly to exempt bonds from taxation." Then, entering into a general discussion of finance, he arraigned the war party for its extravagance, infidelity, and plundering policy. "Those who hold the power," he said, "have not only hewed up to the line of repudiation, but they have not tried to give value to the public credit. It is not the bondholder, it is the office holder who sucks the blood of the people. If the money collected by the government was paid to lessen our debt we could command the specie of the world. We could gain it in exchange for our securities as the governments of Europe do. Now, they are peddled out at half price in exchange for dry-goods and groceries. The reports of the Secretary of the Treasury show that we could swiftly wipe out our debt if our income was not diverted to partisan purposes. Do not the columns of the press teem with statements of official plunder and frauds in every quarter of our land, while public virtue rots under this wasteful expenditure of the public fund? It is said it is repudiation to force our legal tenders upon the bondholders. What makes it so? The low credit of the country. Build that up; make your paper as good as gold, and this question cannot come up. The controversy grows out of the fact that men do not believe our legal tenders ever will be as good as gold. If it is repudiation to pay such money, it is repudiation to make it, and it is repudiation to keep it debased by waste and by partisan plans to keep our country in disorder and danger."[1136]

[Footnote 1136: New York World, October 4, 1867.]

Perhaps no American ever possessed a more irritating way of presenting the frailties of an opposite party. The unwholesome sentiment of his Tweddle Hall and draft-riot speeches, so shockingly out of key with the music of the Union, provoked the charge of sinning against clear light; but ordinarily he had such a faculty for skilfully blending truth with hyperbole in a daring and spirited argument that Greeley, who could usually expose the errors of an opponent's argument in a dozen sentences, found it woven too closely for hasty answer. On this occasion his speech compelled the committee on resolutions, after an all day and night session, to refer the matter to Samuel J. Tilden and two associates, who finally evaded the whole issue by declaring for "equal taxation." This meant taxation of government bonds without specification as to their payment. John McKeon of New York City attacked the words as "equivocal" and "without moral effect," but the influence of Seymour and Tilden carried it with practical unanimity.

The power of Seymour, however, best exhibited itself in the treatment accorded Andrew Johnson. The conventions of 1865 and 1866 had sustained the President with energy and earnestness, endorsing his policy, commending his integrity, and encouraging him to believe in the sincerity of their support. In recognition Johnson had displaced Republicans for Democrats until the men in office resembled the appointees of Buchanan's administration. The proceedings of the convention of 1867, however, contained no evidence that the United States had a Chief Executive. Nothing could have been more remorseless. The plan, silently matured, was suddenly and without scruple flashed upon the country that Andrew Johnson, divested of respect, stripped of support, and plucked of offices, had been coolly dropped by the Democracy of the Empire State.

The campaign opened badly for the Republicans. Weighted with canal frauds the party, with all its courage and genius, seemed unequal to the odds against which it was forced to contend. The odious disclosures showed that the most trifling technicalities, often only a misspelled or an interlined word, and in one instance, at least, simply an ink blot, had been held sufficient to vacate the lowest bids, the contracts afterward being assigned to other bidders at largely increased amounts. So insignificant were these informalities that in many cases the official who declared the bids irregular could not tell upon the witness stand wherein they were so, although he admitted that in no instance did the State benefit by the change. Indeed, without cunning or reason, the plunderers, embracing all who made or paid canal accounts, declared bids informal that contracts at increased prices might be given to members of a ring who divided their ill-gotten gains. These increases ranged from $1,000 to $100,000 each, aggregating a loss to the State of many hundreds of thousands of dollars. "The corruption is so enormous," said the World, "as to render absurd any attempt at concealment."[1137]

[Footnote 1137: New York World, September 27, 1867.

The story of these frauds is found in two volumes of testimony submitted by the Canal Investigation Committee to the Constitutional Convention of 1867.]

Republicans offered no defence except that their party, having had the courage to investigate and expose the frauds and the methods of the peculators, could be trusted to continue the reform. To this the World replied that "a convention of shoddyites might, with as good a face, have lamented the rags hanging about the limbs of our shivering soldiers, or a convention of whisky thieves affect to deplore the falling off of the internal revenue."[1138] Moreover, Democrats claimed that the worst offender was still in office as an appointee of Governor Fenton,[1139] and that the Republican nominee for canal commissioner had been guilty of similar transactions when superintendent of one of the waterways.[1140] These charges became the more glaring because Republicans refused to renominate senators who had been chiefly instrumental in exposing the frauds. "They take great credit to themselves for having found out this corruption in the management of the canals," said Seymour. "But how did they exhibit their hatred of corruption? Were the men who made these exposures renominated? Not by the Republicans. One of them is running upon our ticket."[1141] On another occasion he declared that "not one of the public officers who are charged and convicted by their own friends of fraud and robbery have ever been brought to the bar of justice."[1142] The severity of such statements lost none of its sting by the declaration of Horace Greeley, made over his own signature, that Republican candidates were "conspicuous for integrity and for resistance to official corruption."[1143]

[Footnote 1138: New York World, September 27, 1867.]

[Footnote 1139: Ibid., October 16, 22.]

[Footnote 1140: Ibid., October 22.]

[Footnote 1141: New York World, October 25.]

[Footnote 1142: Ibid., October 4.]

[Footnote 1143: New York Tribune, September 26, 1867.]

The practical failure of the constitutional convention to accomplish the purpose for which it assembled also embarrassed Republicans. By the terms of the Constitution of 1846 the Legislature was required, in each twentieth year thereafter, to submit to the people the question of convening a convention for its revision, and in 1866, an affirmative answer being given, such a convention began its work at Albany on June 4, 1867. Of the one hundred and sixty delegates, ninety-seven were Republicans. Its membership included many men of the highest capacity, whose debates, characterised by good temper and forensic ability, showed an intelligent knowledge of the needs of the State. Their work included the payment of the canal and other State debts, extended the term of senators from two to four years, increased the members of the Assembly, conferred the right of suffrage without distinction of colour, reorganised the Court of Appeals with a chief justice and six associate justices, and increased the tenure of supreme and appellate judges to fourteen years, with an age limit of seventy.

Very early in the life of the convention, however, the press, largely influenced by the New York Tribune, began to discredit its work. Horace Greeley, who was a member, talked often and always well, but the more he talked the more he revealed his incapacity for safe leadership. He seemed to grow restive as he did in Congress over immaterial matters. Long speeches annoyed him, and adjournments from Friday to the following Tuesday sorely vexed him, although this arrangement convenienced men of large business interests. Besides, committees not being ready to report, there was little to occupy the time of delegates. Nevertheless, Greeley, accustomed to work without limit as to hours or thought of rest, insisted that the convention ought to keep busy six days in the week and finish the revision for which it assembled. When his power to influence colleagues had entirely disappeared, he began using the Tribune, whose acrid arguments, accepted by the lesser newspapers, completely undermined all achievement. Finally, on September 24, the convention recessed until November 12.

Democrats charged at once that the adjournment was a skulking subterfuge not only to avoid an open confession of failure, but to evade submitting negro suffrage to a vote in November. The truth of the assertion seemed manifest. At all events, it proved a most serious handicap to Republicans, who, by an act of Congress, passed on March 2, 1867, had forced negro suffrage upon the Southern States. Their platform, adopted at Syracuse, also affirmed it. Moreover, their absolute control of the constitutional convention enabled them, if they had so desired, to finish and submit their work in the early autumn. This action subjected their convention resolve for "impartial suffrage" to ridicule as well as to the charge of cowardice. If you shrink from giving the ballot to a few thousand negroes at home, it was asked, why do you insist that it should be conferred on millions in the South? If, as you pretend, you wish the blacks of this State to have the ballot, why do you not give it to them? How can you blame the South for hesitating when you hesitate? "It is manifest," said the World, "that the Republicans do not desire the negroes of this State to vote. Their refusal to present the question in this election is a confession that the party is forcing on the South a measure too odious to be tolerated at home."[1144]

[Footnote 1144: New York World, September 27, 1867.]

This charge, perhaps, was the most disturbing influence Republicans had to meet in the campaign. Responsibility for canal frauds made them wince, since it appealed strongly and naturally to whatever there was of discontent among the people, but their apparent readiness to force upon the South what they withheld in New York seemed so unreasonable and unjust that it aided materially in swelling the strength of the Democrats.

James T. Brady, Henry C. Murphy, John T. Hoffman, and Samuel J. Tilden made the campaign attractive, speaking with unsparing severity to the great audiences gathered in New York City. Although somewhat capricious in his sympathies, Brady seemed never to care who knew what he thought on any subject, while the people, captivated by his marvellously easy mode of speech, listened with rapture as he exercised his splendid powers. It remained for Seymour, however, to give character to the discussion in one of his most forcible philippics. He endeavoured to show that the ballot, given to a few negroes in New York, could do little harm compared to the enfranchisement of millions of them in the Southern States. The Radicals, he said, not only propose to put the white men of the South under the blacks, but the white men of the North as well. To allow three millions of negroes, representing ten Southern States, to send twenty senators to Washington, while more than half the white population of the country, living in nine Northern States, have but eighteen senators, is a home question. "Will you sanction it?" he asked. "Twenty senators, recollect, who are to act in relation to interests deeply affecting you. Can you afford to erect such a government of blacks over the white men of this continent? Will you give them control in the United States Senate and thus in fact disfranchise the North? This to you is a local question. It will search you out just as surely as the tax-gatherer searches you out."[1145]

[Footnote 1145: New York World, October 25, 1867.]

Republicans acknowledged their weakness. An opposition that invited attention to disclosures as sensational and corrupt as they were indefensible had deeper roots than ordinary political rivalry, while the question of manhood suffrage, like a legacy of reciprocal hate, aroused the smouldering prejudices that had found bitter expression during the discussion of emancipation. Moreover, the feeling developed that the narrow and unpatriotic policy which ruled the Syracuse convention had displaced good men for unsatisfactory candidates. This led to the substitution of Thomas H. Hillhouse for comptroller, whose incorruptibility made him a candidate of unusual strength. But the sacrifice did not change the political situation, aggravated among other things by hard times. The wave of commercial depression which spread over Europe after the London financial panic of May, 1866, extended to this country during the last half of 1867. A reaction from the inflated war prices took place, quick sales and large profits ceased, and a return to the old methods of frugality and good management became necessary. In less than two years the currency had been contracted $140,000,000, decreasing the price of property and enhancing the face value of debts, and although Congress, in the preceding February, had suspended further contraction, business men charged financial conditions to contraction and the people held the party in power responsible.

Indeed, the people had become tired of Republican rule, and their verdict changed a plurality of 13,000, given Fenton in 1866, to a Democratic majority of nearly 48,000, with twenty-two majority on joint ballot in the Legislature. New York City gave the Democrats 60,000 majority. Thousands of immigrants had been illegally naturalised, and a fraudulent registration of 1,500 in one ward indicated the extent of the enormous frauds that had been practised by Boss Tweed and his gang;[1146] but the presence of large Democratic gains in the up-State counties showed that Republican defeat was due to other causes than fraudulent registration and illegal voting. "Outside the incapables and their miserable subalterns who managed the Syracuse convention," said one Republican paper, "a pervading sentiment existed among us, not only that we should be beaten, but that we needed chastisement."[1147] Another placed the responsibility upon "a host of political adventurers, attracted to the party by selfish aggrandisements."[1148] The Tribune accepted it as a punishment for cowardice on the negro suffrage question. "To say that we are for manhood suffrage in the South and not in the North is to earn the loathing, contempt, and derision alike of friends and foes."[1149] Thus had Republican power disappeared like Aladdin's palace, which was ablaze with splendour at night, and could not be seen in the morning.

[Footnote 1146: Gustavus Myers, History of Tammany Hall, p. 250.]

[Footnote 1147: Buffalo Commercial Advertiser, November 6, 1867.]

[Footnote 1148: Albany Evening Journal, November 6.]

[Footnote 1149: New York Tribune, November 6.]

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XIV. SEYMOUR AND HOFFMAN

1868

The fall elections of 1867 made a profound impression in the Empire State. Pennsylvania gave a small Democratic majority, Ohio defeated a negro suffrage amendment by 50,000, besides electing a Democratic legislature, and New York, leading the Democratic column, surprised the nation with a majority of nearly 48,000. In every county the Republican vote had fallen off. It was plain that reconstruction and negro suffrage had seriously disgruntled the country. The policy of the Republicans, therefore, which had hitherto been one of delay in admitting Southern States to representation in Congress, now changed to one of haste to get them in, the party believing that with negro enfranchisement and white disfranchisement it could control the South. This sudden change had alarmed conservatives of all parties, and the Democratic strength shown at the preceding election encouraged the belief that the radical work of Congress might be overthrown. "The danger now is," wrote John Sherman, "that the mistakes of the Republicans may drift the Democratic party into power."[1150]

[Footnote 1150: Sherman's Letters, p. 299.]

The action of Congress after the removal of Edwin M. Stanton, then secretary of war, did not weaken this prediction. The Senate had already refused its assent to the Secretary's suspension, and when the President, exercising what he believed to be his constitutional power, appointed Adjutant-General Thomas in his place, it brought the contest to a crisis. Stanton, barricaded in the War Office, refused to leave, while Thomas, bolder in talk than in deeds, threatened to kick him out.[1151] In support of Stanton a company of one hundred men, mustered by John A. Logan, a member of Congress, occupied the basement of the War Department. Not since the assassination of Lincoln had the country been in such a state of excitement. Meanwhile former propositions of impeachment were revived, and although without evidence of guilty intent, the House, on February 14, resolved that Andrew Johnson be impeached of high crimes and misdemeanours. This trial, which continued for nearly three months, kept the country flushed with passion.

[Footnote 1151: Impeachment Trial, Vol. 1, p. 223.]

New York Democrats greatly enjoyed the situation. To them it meant a division of the Republican party vastly more damaging than the one in 1866. Opposition to Grant's candidacy also threatened to widen the breach. The Conservatives, led by Thurlow Weed, wishing to break the intolerant control of the Radicals by securing a candidate free from factional bias, had pronounced for the Soldier's nomination for President as early as July, 1867,[1152] and although the current of Republican journalism as well as the drift of party sentiment tended to encourage the movement, the Radicals opposed it. Grant's report on the condition of the South in 1865, and his attendance upon the President in 1866 during the famous swing-around-the-circle, had provoked much criticism. Besides, his acceptance of the War Office after Stanton's suspension indicated marked confidence in the Chief Executive. Indeed, so displeasing had been his record since the close of the war that the Tribune ridiculed his pretensions, predicting that if any man of his type of politics was elected it would be by the Democrats.[1153] Even after the loss of the elections the Tribune continued its opposition. "We object to the Grant movement," it said. "It is of the ostrich's simple strategy that deceives only himself. There are times in which personal preference and personal popularity go far; but they are not these times. Does any one imagine that General Grant, supported by the Republicans, would carry Maryland or Kentucky, under her present Constitution, against Seymour or Pendleton?"[1154] Many agreed with Greeley. Indeed, a majority of the Radicals, deeming Grant unsound on reconstruction and the negro, preferred Chief Justice Chase.

[Footnote 1152: New York World, July 25, 1867.]

[Footnote 1153: New York Tribune, October 15, 1867.]

[Footnote 1154: New York Tribune, November 7, 1867.]

Very unexpectedly, however, conditions changed. Stanton's suspension in August, 1867, led to Grant's appointment as secretary of war, but when the Senate, early in the following January, refused to concur in Johnson's action, Grant locked the door of the War Office and resumed his post at army headquarters. The President expressed surprise that he did not hold the office until the question of Stanton's constitutional right to resume it could be judicially determined. This criticism, delivered in Johnson's positive style, provoked a long and heated controversy, involving the veracity of each and leaving them enemies for life. The quarrel delighted the Radicals. It put Grant into sympathy with Congress, and Republicans into sympathy with Grant. Until then it was not clear to what party he belonged. Before the war he acted with the Democrats, and very recently the successors of the old Albany Regency had been quietly preparing for his nomination.[1155] Now, however, he was in cordial relation with Republicans, whose convention, held at Syracuse on February 5, 1868, to select delegates to the National convention, indorsed his candidacy by acclamation. The Conservatives welcomed this action as their victory. Moreover, it was the first formal expression of a State convention. Republicans of other Commonwealths had indicated their readiness to accept Grant as a candidate, but New York, endorsing him before the termination of his controversy with the President, anticipated their action and set the party aflame. Indeed, it looked to Republicans as if this nomination assured success at a moment when their chances had seemed hopeless.

[Footnote 1155: T.W. Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 458.]

In like manner the convention recommended Reuben E. Fenton for Vice-President. Fenton had made an acceptable governor. Under his administration projects for lengthening the locks on the Erie Canal and other plans for extending the facilities of transportation were presented. Another memorable work was the establishment of Cornell University, which has aptly been called "the youngest, the largest, and the richest" of the nearly thirty colleges in the State. Even the Times, the great organ of the Conservatives, admitted that the Governor's "executive control, in the main, has been a success."[1156] Opposition to his promotion, however, presented well-defined lines. To Thurlow Weed he represented the mismanagement which defeated the party,[1157] and to Conkling he appealed only as one on whom to employ with effect, when occasion offered, his remarkable resources of sarcasm and rhetoric. The Governor understood this feeling, and to avoid its influence delegates were instructed to vote for him as a unit, while three hundred devoted friends went to Chicago. Daniel E. Sickles became chairman of the delegation.

[Footnote 1156: New York Times, February 4, 1868.]

[Footnote 1157: T.W. Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 459.]

The Republican convention convened at Chicago on May 20, and amidst throat-bursting cheers and salvos of artillery Ulysses S. Grant was nominated for President by acclamation. For Vice-President a dozen candidates were presented, including Henry Wilson of Massachusetts, Reuben E. Fenton of New York, Benjamin Wade of Ohio, and Schuyler Colfax of Indiana. Fenton's friends, finding the Northern States pre-empted by other candidates, turned to the South, hoping to benefit as Wade's strength receded. Here, however, it was manifest that Wilson would become the Buckeye's residuary legatee. Fenton also suffered from the over-zeal of friends. In seconding his nomination an Illinois delegate encountered John A. Logan, who coolly remarked that Fenton would get three votes and no more from his State. To recover prestige after this blow Daniel E. Sickles, in a brief speech, deftly included him with Morton of Indiana, Curtin of Pennsylvania, Andrew of Massachusetts, and other great war governors. In this company Fenton, who had served less than four months at the close of the war, seemed out of place, and Sickles resumed his seat undisturbed by any demonstration except by the faithful three hundred.[1158] Fenton's vote, however, was more pronounced than the applause, although his strength outside of New York came largely from the South, showing that his popularity centred in a section whose representatives in National Republican conventions have too often succumbed to influences other than arguments.[1159]

[Footnote 1158: Official Proceedings of the Convention, p. 96.]

[Footnote 1159: BALLOTS

1 2 3 4 5 6 Wade 147 170 178 206 207 38 Colfax 115 145 165 186 226 541 Fenton 126 144 139 144 139 69 Wilson 119 114 101 87 56 Hamlin 28 30 25 25 20 Curtin 51 45 40

Outside of New York Fenton's vote was as follows:

Northern States 23 33 32 32 31 2 Southern States 44 45 42 48 61 1]

The echo of Fenton's defeat seriously disturbed the Syracuse State convention (July 8). The Conservatives of New York City, many of whom had now become the followers of Conkling, objected to the Fenton method of selecting delegates, and after a bitter discussion between Matthew Hale of Albany and Charles S. Spencer, the Governor's ardent friend, the convention limited the number of delegates from a city district to the Republican vote actually cast, and appointed a committee to investigate the quarrel, with instructions to report at the next State convention.

The selection of a candidate for governor also unsettled the Republican mind. Friends of Lyman Tremaine, Charles H. Van Wyck, Frederick A. Conkling (a brother of the Senator), Stewart L. Woodford, and John A. Griswold had not neglected to put their favourites into the field at an early day, but to all appearances Horace Greeley was the popular man among the delegates. Although Conkling had snuffed out his senatorial ambition, he had been the directing power of the February convention, and was still the recognised guide-post of the party. Besides, the withdrawal of Tremaine, Van Wyck, and Conkling practically narrowed the rivalry to Greeley and Griswold. Indeed, it seemed as if the ambition of the editor's life was at last to be satisfied. Weed was in Europe, Raymond still rested "outside the breastworks," and the Twenty-third Street organisation, as the Conservatives were called, sat on back seats without votes and without influence.

Greeley did not go to Syracuse. But his personal friends appeared in force, led by Reuben E. Fenton, who controlled the State convention. Greeley believed the Governor sincerely desired his nomination. Perhaps he was also deceived in the strength of John A. Griswold. The people, regarding Griswold's change from McClellan to Lincoln as a political emancipation, had doubled his majority for Congress in 1864 and again in 1866. The poor loved him, the workmen admired him, and business men backed him. Though but forty-six years old he had already made his existence memorable. In their emphasis orators expressed no fear that the fierce white light which beats upon an aspirant for high office would disclose in him poor judgment, or any weakness of character. To these optimistic speeches delegates evinced a responsiveness that cheered his friends.

But the real noise of the day did not commence until Chauncey M. Depew began his eulogy of the great editor. The applause then came in drifts of cheers as appreciative expressions fell from the lips of his champion. It was admitted that Depew's speech adorned the day's work.[1160] He referred to Greeley as "the embodiment of the principles of his party," "the one man towering above all others in intellect," who "has contributed more than any other man toward the enfranchisement of the slaves," and "with his pen and his tongue has done more for the advancement of the industrial classes." In conclusion, said the speaker, "he belongs to no county, to no locality; he belongs to the State and to the whole country, because of the superiority of his intellect and the purity of his patriotism."[1161] As the speaker finished, the applause, lasting "many minutes,"[1162] finally broke into several rounds of cheers, while friends of Griswold as well as those of Greeley, standing on chairs, swung hats and umbrellas after the fashion of a modern convention. Surely, Horace Greeley was the favourite.

[Footnote 1160: New York Tribune, July 9, 1868.]

[Footnote 1161: New York Tribune, July 9, 1868.]

[Footnote 1162: Ibid.]

The roll-call, however, gave Griswold 247, Greeley 95, Woodford 36. For the moment Greeley's friends seemed stunned. It was worse than a defeat--it was utter rout and confusion. He had been led into an ambuscade and slaughtered. The Tribune, in explaining the affair, said "it was evident in the morning that Griswold would get the nomination. His friends had been working so long and there were so many outstanding pledges." Besides, it continued, "when the fact developed that he had a majority, it added to his strength afterward."[1163] Why, then, it was asked, did Greeley's friends put him into a contest already settled? Did they wish to humiliate him? "Had Greeley been here in person," said the Times, with apparent sympathy, "the result might have been different."[1164] The Nation thought otherwise. "In public," it said, "few members of conventions have the courage to deny his fitness for any office, such are the terrors inspired by his editorial cowskin; but the minute the voting by ballots begins, the cowardly fellows repudiate him under the veil of secrecy."[1165] The great disparity between the applause and the vote for the editor became the subject of much suppressed amusement. "The highly wrought eulogium pronounced by Depew was applauded to the echo," wrote a correspondent of the Times, "but the enthusiasm subsided wonderfully when it came to putting him at the head of the ticket."[1166] Depew himself appreciated the humour of the situation. "Everybody wondered," said the eulogist, speaking of it in later years, "how there could be so much smoke and so little fire."[1167] To those conversant with the situation, however, it was not a mystery. Among conservative men Greeley suffered discredit because of his ill-tempered criticisms, while his action in signing Jefferson Davis's bail-bond was not the least powerful of the many influences that combined to weaken his authority. It seemed to shatter confidence in his strength of mind. After that episode the sale of his American Conflict which had reached the rate of five hundred copies a day, fell off so rapidly that his publishers lost $50,000.[1168]

[Footnote 1163: Ibid.]

[Footnote 1164: New York Times, July 9.]

[Footnote 1165: The Nation, July 16.]

[Footnote 1166: New York Times, July 9, 1868.]

[Footnote 1167: Conversation with the author.

The ticket nominated was as follows: Governor, John A. Griswold, Rensselaer; Lieutenant-Governor, Alonzo B. Cornell, Wyoming; Canal Commissioner, Alexander Barkley, Washington; Prison Inspector, Henry A. Barnum, Onondaga.]

[Footnote 1168: The Nation, November 11, 1869.]

The platform approved the nomination of Grant and Colfax, held inviolate the payment of the public debt in the spirit as well as the letter of the law, commended the administration of Fenton, and demanded absolute honesty in the management and improvement of the canals; but adopting "the simple tactics of the ostrich" it maintained the most profound silence in regard to suffrage of any kind--manhood, universal, impartial, or negro.[1169]

[Footnote 1169: New York Tribune, July 9, 1868.]

The day the Syracuse convention avoided Greeley, the National Democratic convention which had assembled in Tammany's new building on July 4, accepted a leader under whom victory was impossible. It was an historic gathering. The West sent able leaders to support its favourite greenback theory, the South's delegation of Confederate officers recalled the picturesque scenes at Philadelphia in 1866, and New England and the Middle States furnished a strong array of their well-known men. Samuel J. Tilden headed the New York delegation, Horatio Seymour became permanent president, and in one of the chairs set apart for vice presidents, William M. Tweed, "fat, oily, and dripping with the public wealth,"[1170] represented the Empire State.

[Footnote 1170: New York Tribune, March 5, 1868.]

The chairmanship of the committee on resolutions fell to Henry C. Murphy of Brooklyn. Murphy was a brave fighter. In 1832, when barely in his twenties, he had denounced the policy of chartering banks in the interest of political favourites and monopolists, and the reform, soon after established, made him bold to attack other obnoxious fiscal systems. As mayor of Brooklyn he kept the city's expenditures within its income, and in the constitutional convention of 1846 he stood with Michael Hoffman in preserving the public credit and the public faith. To him who understood the spirit of the Legal Tender Act of 1862, it seemed rank dishonesty to pay bonds in a depreciated currency, and he said so in language that did not die in the committee room. But opposed to him were the extremists who controlled the convention. These Greenbackers demanded "that all obligations of the government, not payable by their express terms in coin, ought to be paid in lawful money," and through them the Ohio heresy became the ruling thought of the Democratic creed.

Although New York consented to the Pendleton platform, it determined not to sacrifice everything to the one question of finance by permitting the nomination of the Ohio statesman. There were other candidates. Andrew Johnson was deluded into the belief that he had a chance; Winfield S. Hancock, the hero of the famous Second Army Corps, who had put himself in training while department commander at New Orleans, believed in his star; Salmon P. Chase, chief justice of the United States Supreme Court, having failed to capture the nomination at Chicago, was willing to lead whenever and by whomsoever called; while Thomas A. Hendricks of Indiana, then a United States senator and supporter of the "Ohio idea," hoped to succeed if Pendleton failed. Of these candidates Seymour favoured Chase. If nominated, he said, the Chief Justice would disintegrate the Republican party, carry Congress, and by uniting conservative Republicans and Democrats secure a majority of the Senate. It was known that the sentiments of Chase harmonised with those of Eastern Democrats except as to negro suffrage, and although on this issue the Chief Justice declined to yield, Seymour did not regard it of sufficient importance to quarrel about. Indeed, it was said that Seymour had approved a platform, submitted to Chase by Democratic progressionists, which accepted negro suffrage.[1171]

[Footnote 1171: New York Times, September 4, 1868.]

Samuel J. Tilden, appreciating the importance of defeating Pendleton, at once directed all the resources of a cold, calculating nature to a solution of the difficult problem. To mask his real purpose he pressed the name of Sanford E. Church until the eighth ballot, when he adroitly dropped it for Hendricks. It was a bold move. The Hoosier was not less offensive than the Buckeye, but it served Tilden's purpose to dissemble, and, as he apprehended, Hendricks immediately took the votes of his own and other States from the Ohioan. This proved the end of Pendleton, whose vote thenceforth steadily declined. On the thirteenth ballot California cast half a vote for Chase, throwing the convention into wild applause. For the moment it looked as if the Chief Justice, still in intimate correspondence with influential delegates, might capture the nomination. Vallandigham, who preferred Chase to Hendricks, begged Tilden to cast New York's vote for him, but the man of sheer intellect was not yet ready to show his hand. Meanwhile Hancock divided with Hendricks the lost strength of Pendleton. Amidst applause from Tammany, Nebraska, on the seventeenth and eighteenth ballots, cast three votes for John T. Hoffman. This closed the fourth day of the convention, the eighteenth ballot registering 144-1/2 votes for Hancock, 87 for Hendricks, 56-1/2 for Pendleton, and 28 scattering.

On the morning of the fifth and last day, the New York delegation, before entering the convention, decided by a vote of 37 to 24 to support Chase provided Hendricks could not be nominated. Seymour favoured the Chief Justice in an elaborate speech, which he intended delivering on the floor of the convention, and for this purpose had arranged with a delegate from Missouri to occupy the chair. It was known, too, that Chase's strength had increased in other delegations. Eleven Ohio delegates favoured him as their second choice, while Maine, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Georgia, and Wisconsin could be depended upon. Indeed, it was in the air that the Chief Justice would be nominated. When the convention opened, however, a letter several days old was read from Pendleton withdrawing from the contest. This quickly pushed Hendricks to 107. On the twenty-first ballot he rose to 132 and Hancock fell off to 135-1/2, while four votes for Chase, given by Massachusetts, called out hisses[1172] as well as applause, indicating that the ambitious Justice was not entirely persona grata to all of the Westerners. To the confused delegates, worn out with loss of sleep and the intense heat, the situation did not excite hopes of an early settlement. New York could not name Chase since Pendleton's withdrawal had strengthened Hendricks, while the nomination of a conservative Union soldier like Hancock, so soon after the close of the war, would inevitably exasperate the more radical element of the party. Thus it looked as if the motion to adjourn to meet at St. Louis in September presented the only escape. Pending a roll-call, however, this motion was declared out of order, and the voting continued until the Ohio delegation, having returned from a conference, boldly proposed the name of Horatio Seymour. The delegates, hushed into silence by the dominating desire to verify rumours of an impending change, now gave vent to long, excited cheering. "The folks were frantic," said an eye-witness; "the delegates daft. All other enthusiasms were as babbling brooks to the eternal thunder of Niagara. The whole mass was given over to acclaims that cannot even be suggested in print."[1173]

[Footnote 1172: New York World, July 10, 1868.]

[Footnote 1173: New York World, July 10, 1868.]

Seymour had positively declined a score of times. As early as November, 1867, after the Democratic victories of that month, he had addressed a letter to the Union, a Democratic paper of Oneida, stating that for personal reasons which he need not give, he was not and could not be a candidate. Other letters of similar purport had frequently appeared in the press. To an intimate friend he spoke of family griefs, domestic troubles, impaired health, and the impossibility of an election. Besides, if chosen, he said, he would be as powerless as Johnson, a situation that "would put him in his grave in less than a year."[1174] In the whole convention there was not a man who could truthfully say that the Governor, by look, or gesture, or inflection of voice, had encouraged the hope of a change of mind. Within forty-eight hours every Democrat of influence had sounded him and gone away sorrowful. Now, when order was restored, he declined again. His expressions of gratitude seemed only to make the declaration stronger. "I do not stand here," he said, "as a man proud of his opinion or obstinate in his purposes, but upon a question of duty and of honour I must stand upon my own convictions against the world. When I said here, at an early day, that honour forbade my accepting a nomination, I meant it. When I said to my friends I could not be a candidate, I meant it. And now, after all that has taken place here, I could not receive the nomination without placing myself in a false position. Gentlemen, I thank you for your kindness, but your candidate I cannot be."[1175]

[Footnote 1174: New York Times, Sept. 4.]

[Footnote 1175: New York World, July 10.]

Vallandigham replied that in times of great public exigency personal consideration should yield to the public good, and Francis Kernan, disclaiming any lot or part in Ohio's motion, declared that others than the New York delegation must overcome the sensitiveness of the chairman. Still, he said, Horatio Seymour ought to abide the action of the convention. These speeches over, the roll-call monotonously continued, each State voting as before until Wisconsin changed from Doolittle to Seymour. In an instant the chairman of each State delegation, jumping to his feet, changed its vote to the New Yorker. The pandemonium was greater than before, in the midst of which Seymour, apparently overwhelmed by the outcome, retired to a committee room, where Church, Joseph Warren of the Buffalo Courier, and other friends urged him to yield to the demands of the Democracy of the country. He was deeply affected. Tears filled his eyes, and he piteously sought the sympathy of friends.[1176] Soon after he left the building. Meanwhile Tilden rose to change the vote of the Empire State from Hendricks to Seymour. "It is fit on this occasion," he said, "that New York should wait for the voice of all her sister States. Last evening I did not believe this event possible. There was one obstacle--Horatio Seymour's earnest, sincere, deep-felt repugnance to accept this nomination. I did not believe any circumstance would make it possible except that Ohio, with whom we have been unfortunately dividing our votes, demanded it. I was anxious that whenever we should leave this convention there should be no heart-burnings, no jealousy, no bitter disappointment; and I believe that in this result we have lifted the convention far above every such consideration. And I believe further that we have made the nomination most calculated to give us success."[1177]

[Footnote 1176: New York Times, Sept. 4, 1868.]

[Footnote 1177: New York World, July 10.]

This did not then seem to be the opinion of many men outside the convention. The nomination did not arouse even a simulated enthusiasm upon the streets of the metropolis.[1178] In Washington Democratic congressmen declared that but one weaker candidate was before the convention,[1179] while dispatches from Philadelphia and Boston represented "prominent Democrats disgusted at Seymour and the artifices of his friends."[1180] Even Tammany, said the Times, "quailed at the prospect of entering upon a canvass with a leader covered with personal dishonour, as Seymour had said himself he would be, if he should accept. Men everywhere admit that such a nomination, conferred under such circumstances, was not only pregnant with disaster, but if accepted stained the recipient with personal infamy."[1181]

[Footnote 1178: New York Times, July 10.]

[Footnote 1179: Ibid.]

[Footnote 1180: New York Times, July 10, 1868.]

[Footnote 1181: Ibid.]

Not since the Democratic party began holding national conventions had the tactics practised at New York been equaled. The convention of 1844 must always be ranked as a masterpiece of manipulation, but its diplomacy was played to defeat Van Buren rather than nominate a candidate. In 1852 circumstances combined to prevent the nomination of the convention's first or second choice, and in the end, as a ball-player at the bat earns first base through the errors of a pitcher, Franklin Pierce benefited. But in 1868 nothing was gained by errors. Although there was a chief candidate to defeat, it was not done with a bludgeon as in 1844. Nor were delegates allowed to stampede to a "dark horse" as in 1852. On the contrary, while the leading candidate suffered slow strangulation, the most conspicuous man in the party was pushed to the front with a sagacity and firmness that made men obey the dictates of a superior intelligence, and to people who studied the ballots it plainly appeared that Samuel J. Tilden had played the game.

Tilden had not sought prominence in the convention. He seldom spoke, rarely figured in the meeting of delegates, and except to cast the vote of the New York delegation did nothing to attract attention. But the foresight exhibited in changing from Church to Hendricks on the eighth ballot discovered a mind singularly skilled in controlling the actions of men. The play appeared the more remarkable after the revelation of its influence. New York did not want Hendricks. Besides, up to that time, the Hoosier had received less than forty votes, his own State refusing to unite in his support. Moreover, since adjoining States save Michigan warmly advocated Pendleton, all sources of growth seemed closed to him. Yet Tilden's guiding hand, with infallible sagacity, placed New York's thirty-three votes on Indiana and absolutely refused to move them. To dispose of Hendricks, Vallandigham and other Ohio delegates offered to support Chase, and if the chairman of the New York delegation had led the way, a formidable coalition must have carried the convention for the Chief Justice. But the man whose subtile, mysterious influence was already beginning to be recognised as a controlling factor in the party desired Seymour, and to force his nomination he met at Delmonico's, on the evening of the fourth day, Allen G. Thurman, George E. Pugh, Washington McLean, George W. McCook, and George W. Morgan, Ohio's most influential delegates, and there arranged the coup d'état that succeeded so admirably. This scheme remained a profound secret until the Ohio delegation retired for consultation after the twenty-first ballot, so that when Seymour was addressing the New York delegation in behalf of Chase, Tilden knew of the pending master-stroke. "The artful Tilden," said Alexander Long, a well-known politician of the day, "is a candidate for the United States Senate, and he thinks that with Seymour the Democrats can carry both branches of the New York Legislature."[1182]

[Footnote 1182: New York Times, September 4, 1868.]

Tilden disclaimed all instrumentality in bringing about the nomination. "I had no agency," he wrote, "in getting Governor Seymour into his present scrape."[1183] He likewise professed ignorance as to what the convention would do. "I did not believe the event possible," he said, "unless Ohio demanded it."[1184] This admission, frankly conceding the necessity of Ohio's action which he had himself forced, shattered the sincerity of Tilden's disclaimer.

[Footnote 1183: John Bigelow, Life of Samuel J. Tilden, Vol. 1, p. 211.]

[Footnote 1184: New York World, July 10, 1868.]

Seymour also had difficulty in preserving the appearance of sincerity. The press claimed that when he saw the nomination coming to him with the approval of Pendleton's supporters he quickly retired instead of further insisting upon his declination. This insinuation allied his dramatic performance with Tilden's tactics, and he hesitated to expose himself to such a compromising taunt. In this emergency Tilden endeavoured very adroitly to ease his mind. "My judgment is," he wrote a mutual friend, "that acceptance under present circumstances would not compromise his repute for sincerity or be really misunderstood by the people; that the case is not analogous to the former instances which have made criticism possible; that the true nature of the sacrifice should be appreciated, while on the other hand the opposite course would be more likely to incite animadversion; that, on the whole, acceptance is the best thing. I think a decision is necessary, for it is not possible to go through a canvass with a candidate declining. I am sincerely willing to accept such action as will be most for the honour of our friend; at the same time my personal wish is acceptance. You may express for me so much on the subject as you find necessary and think proper."[1185]

[Footnote 1185: John Bigelow, Life of Tilden, Vol. 1, p. 212.]

On August 4, when Seymour finally accepted, he neither apologised nor explained. "The nomination," he wrote, "was unsought and unexpected. I have been caught up by the overwhelming tide which is bearing us on to a great political change, and I find myself unable to resist its pressure."[1186] Those who recalled the Governor's alleged tortuous course at Chicago and again at Albany in 1864 did not credit him with the candour that excites admiration. "Such men did not believe in the sincerity of Seymour's repeated declinations," said Henry J. Raymond, "and therefore accepted the final result with the significant remark, 'I told you so.'"[1187] Horace Greeley was more severe. "The means by which Horatio Seymour obtained his nomination," he wrote, "are characteristic of that political cunning which has marked his career. The whole affair was an adroit specimen of political hypocrisy, by which the actual favourite of the majority was not only sold, but was induced to nominate the trickster who had defeated him."[1188]

[Footnote 1186: Public Record of Horatio Seymour, p. 343.]

[Footnote 1187: New York Times, August 10.]

[Footnote 1188: New York Tribune, November 5, 1868.]

After Seymour's nomination the first expression of the campaign occurred in Vermont. Although largely Republican the Democrats made an unusually animated contest, sending their best speakers and furnishing the needed funds. Nevertheless, the Republicans added 7,000 to their majority of the preceding year. This decisive victory, celebrated in Albany on September 2, had a depressing influence upon the Democratic State convention then in session, ending among other things the candidacy of Henry C. Murphy for governor. The up-State opponents of the Tweed ring, joined by the Kings County delegation, hoped to make a winning combination against John T. Hoffman, and for several days Murphy stood up against the attacks of Tammany, defying its threats and refusing to withdraw. But he wilted under the news from Vermont. If not beaten in convention, he argued, defeat is likely to come in the election, and so, amidst the noise of booming cannon and parading Republicans, he allowed Hoffman to be nominated by acclamation.[1189]

[Footnote 1189: "Then we have John T. Hoffman, who is kept by Tammany Hall as a kind of respectable attaché. His humble work is to wear good clothes and be always gloved, to be decorous and polite; to be as much a model of deportment as Mr. Turvydrop; to repeat as often as need be, in a loud voice, sentences about 'honesty' and 'public welfare,' but to appoint to rich places such men as Mr. Sweeny. Hoffman is kept for the edification of the country Democrats, but all he has or ever can have comes from Tammany Hall."--Ibid., March 5, 1868.]

In the selection of a lieutenant-governor Tammany did not fare so well. Boss Tweed, in return for Western support of Hoffman, had declared for Albert P. Laning of Buffalo, and until District Attorney Morris of Brooklyn seconded the nomination of another, Laning's friends had boasted a large majority. Morris said he had no objection to Laning personally. He simply opposed him as a conspirator who had combined with Tammany to carry out the programme of a grasping clique. He wished the country delegates who had unconsciously aided its wire-pulling schemes to understand that it sought only its own aggrandisement. It cared nothing for the Democratic party except as it contributed to its selfish ends. This corrupt oligarchy, continued the orator, his face flushed and his eyes flashing with anger, intends through Hoffman to control the entire patronage of the State, and if Seymour is elected it will grasp that of the whole country. Suppose this offensive ring, with its unfinished courthouse and its thousand other schemes of robbery and plunder, controls the political power of the State and nation as it now dominates the metropolis, what honest Democrat can charge corruption to the opposite party? Did men from the interior of the State understand that Hoffman for governor means a ring magnate for United Sates senator? That is the game, and if it cannot be played by fair means, trickery and corruption will accomplish it. Kings County, which understands the methods of this clique, has not now and he hoped never would have anything in common with it, and he warned the country members not to extend its wicked sway.[1190]

[Footnote 1190: New York Times, World, and Tribune, September 3, 1868.]

Morris' speech anticipated the startling disclosures of 1871, and as the orator raised his voice to a pitch that could easily be heard throughout the hall, the up-State delegates became deeply interested in his words. He did not deal in glittering generalities. He was a prosecuting officer in a county adjoining Tammany, and when he referred to the courthouse robbery he touched the spot that reeked with corruption. The Ring winced, but remained speechless. Tweed and his associate plunderers, who had spent three millions on the courthouse and charged on their books an expenditure of eleven, had no desire to stir up discussion on such a topic and be pilloried by a cross-examination on the floor of the convention. A majority of the delegates, however, convinced that Tammany must not control the lieutenant-governor, nominated Allen C. Beach of Jefferson, giving him 77 votes to 47 for Laning.[1191]

[Footnote 1191: New York World, July 10, 1868.]

In the light of this result Murphy's friends seriously regretted his hasty withdrawal from the contest. Morris intended arraigning Tammany in his speech, nominating the Brooklyn Senator for governor, and the latter's supporters believed that Hoffman, whom they recognised as the personal representative of the Tweed ring, must have gone down under the disclosures of the District Attorney quite as easily as did Laning. This hasty opinion, however, did not have the support of truth. Hoffman's campaign in 1866 strengthened him with the people of the up-counties. To them he had a value of his own. In his speeches he had denounced wrongs and rebuked corruption, and his record as mayor displayed no disposition to enrich himself at the expense of his reputation. He was careful at least to observe surface proprieties. Besides, at this time, Tammany had not been convicted of crime. Vitriolic attacks upon the Tweed Ring were frequent, but they came from men whom it had hurt. Even Greeley's historic philippic, as famous for its style as for its deadly venom, came in revenge for Tweed's supposed part in defeating him for Congress in 1866.[1192]

[Footnote 1192: New York Tribune, March 5.

The ticket nominated was as follows: Governor, John T. Hoffman, New York; Lieutenant-Governor, Allen C. Beach, Jefferson; Canal Commissioner, Oliver Bascom, Washington; Inspector of Prisons, David B. McNeil, Cayuga; Clerk of Court of Appeals, Edward O. Perrin, Queens.]

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XV. THE STATE CARRIED BY FRAUD

1868

Horatio Seymour's nomination for President worried his Republican opponents in New York. It was admitted that he would adorn the great office, and that if elected he could act with more authority and independence than Chief Justice Chase, since the latter must have been regarded by Congress as a renegade and distrusted by Democrats as a radical. It was agreed, also, that the purity of Seymour's life, his character for honesty in financial matters, and the high social position which he held, made him an especially dangerous adversary in a State that usually dominated a national election. On the other hand, his opponents recalled that whenever a candidate for governor he had not only run behind his ticket, but had suffered defeat three out of five times. It was suggested, too, that although his whole public life had been identified with the politics of the Commonwealth, his name, unlike that of Daniel D. Tompkins, DeWitt Clinton, or Silas Wright, was associated with no important measure of State policy. To this criticism Seymour's supporters justly replied that as governor, in 1853, he had boldly championed the great loan of ten and one-half millions for the Erie Canal enlargement.

As usual national issues controlled the campaign in New York. Although both parties denounced corruption in the repair of the Erie Canal, the people seemed more concerned in a return of good times and in a better understanding between the North and South. The financial depression of the year before had not disappeared, and an issue of greenbacks in payment of the 5-20 bonds, it was argued, would overcome the policy of contraction which had enhanced the face value of debts and decreased the price of property. Pendleton's tour through Maine emphasised this phase of the financial question, and while Democrats talked of "The same currency for ploughboy and bondholder," Republicans insisted upon "The best currency for both ploughboy and bondholder."

The campaign in Maine, however, satisfied Republicans that the Southern question, forced into greater prominence by recent acts of violence, had become a more important issue than the financial problem. In Saint Mary's parish, Louisiana, a Republican sheriff and judge were shot, editors and printers run out of the county, and their newspaper offices destroyed. But no arrests followed. In Arkansas a Republican deputy sheriff was tied to a negro and both killed with one shot. In South Carolina a colored State senator, standing on the platform of a street car, suffered the death penalty, his executioners publicly boasting of their act. In Georgia negro members of the Legislature were expelled. Indeed, from every Southern State came reports of violence and murder. These stories were accentuated by the Camilla riot in Georgia, which occurred on September 19. With banners and music three hundred Republicans, mostly negroes, were marching to Camilla to hold a mass meeting. Two-thirds of them carried arms. Before reaching the town the sheriff endeavoured to persuade them to lay aside their guns and revolvers, and upon their refusal a riot ensued, in which eight or nine negroes were killed and twenty or thirty wounded. As usual their assailants escaped arrest and injury. General Meade, commander of the department, reported that "the authors of this outrage were civil officers who, under the guise of enforcing the law and suppressing disorder, had permitted a wanton sacrifice of life and blood."[1193]

[Footnote 1193: Report of the Secretary of War, 1868, p. 81.]

The mere recital of these incidents aroused Northern feeling. It was the old story--murder without arrests or investigation. The knowledge, too, that it was in part the work of the Ku-Klux-Klan, a secret organisation pledged to disfranchise the negro by intimidation, intensified the bitterness. It is probably true that many reported atrocities were merely campaign stories. It is likely, too, that horse thieves and illicit distillers screened their misdeeds behind the Ku-Klux. It is well understood, also, that ambitious carpet-bag agitators, proving bad instructors for negroes just emerging from slavery, added largely to the list of casualties, making crime appear general throughout the South. But whether violence was universal or sporadic Republicans believed it a dangerous experiment to commit the government to the hands of "rebels and copperheads," and in their contest to avoid such an alleged calamity they emphasised Southern outrages and resurrected Seymour's speech to the draft rioters in July, 1863. To give the latter fresh interest Nast published a cartoon entitled "Matched,"[1194] which represented Grant demanding the unconditional surrender of Vicksburg, while Seymour, addressing a mob of foreigners wet with the blood of their victims, called them "my friends." Nast presented another cartoon which disturbed the Democracy. It represented John T. Hoffman standing before a screen behind which a gang of thieves was busily rifling the city treasury. The face of Hoffman only was depicted, but the picture's serious note of warning passed for more than a bit of campaign pleasantry. Frank P. Blair, the Democratic candidate for Vice-President, also furnished a text for bitter invective because of his declaration that "there is but one way to restore the government and the Constitution and that is for the President-elect to declare the Reconstruction Acts null and void, compel the army to undo its usurpations at the South, disperse the carpet-bag State governments, allow the white people to reorganise their own governments and elect senators and representatives."[1195] Republicans charged that this represented the Democratic policy. On the other hand, the closing sentence of Grant's brief letter of acceptance, "Let us have peace," became the shibboleth of his followers, who claimed that the courteous and deferential spirit shown at Appomattox would characterise his administration. Indeed, the issue finally resolved itself to "Blair and Revolution" or "Grant and Peace," and after a contest of unusual bitterness Republicans carried the October States, although with greatly reduced majorities. Pennsylvania gave only 10,000, Ohio 17,000, and Indiana less than 1,000.

[Footnote 1194: Albert B. Paine, Life of Thomas Nast, p. 130.]

[Footnote 1195: McPherson, History of Reconstruction, p. 381.]

Though these elections presaged a Republican victory in November, Democrats, still hopeful of success, renewed their efforts with great energy. Blair went to the rear and Seymour took the stump. With studied moderation Seymour had written his letter of acceptance to catch the wavering Republican voter. He made it appear that the South was saved from anarchy by the military, and that the North, to the sincere regret of many Republicans and their ablest journals, was no longer controlled by the sober judgment of the dominant party's safest leaders. "There is hardly an able man who helped to build up the Republican organisation," he said, "who has not within the past three years warned it against its excesses." These men he pictured as forced to give up their sentiments or to abandon their party, arguing that the latter's policy must be more violent in future unless checked by a division of political power. "Such a division," he said, adroitly seeking to establish confidence in himself, "tends to assure the peace and good order of society. The election of a Democratic Executive and a majority of Democratic members to the House of Representatives would not give to that party organisation the power to make sudden or violent changes, but it would serve to check those extreme measures which have been deplored by the best men of both political organisations."[1196]

[Footnote 1196: Horatio Seymour, Public Record, p. 345.]

Preaching this gospel of peace Seymour passed through Western New York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, attempting to overcome the prestige of Grant's great fame, and to stem the tide of Northern prejudice against Southern outrages. Meanwhile Roscoe Conkling, having returned from a pleasure trip to Denver, entered the campaign with earnestness against his brother-in-law. He desired especially to carry Oneida County, to which he devoted his energies in the closing days of the contest, making a schoolhouse canvass that lifted the issue above local pride in its distinguished citizen who headed the Democratic ticket. In going the rounds he met "Black Paddy," a swarthy Irishman and local celebrity, who announced that he had "turned Democrat."

"How so?" asked the Senator.

"Shure, sir," replied the quick-witted Celt, "O'im payin' ye a compliment in votin' for your brother-in-law."[1197]

[Footnote 1197: A.R. Conkling, Life of Roscoe Conkling, p. 313.]

Near the close of the campaign, in accordance with the habit of many years, William H. Seward returned to Auburn to speak to his neighbors and townsmen. No one then realised that this was to be his last political meeting, or that before another presidential election occurred he would have entered upon his long sleep on Fort Hill. But the hall was as full as if it had been so advertised. He was neither an old man, being sixty-seven, nor materially changed in appearance. Perhaps his face was a trifle thinner, his hair lighter, and his jaw more prominent, but his mental equipment survived as in the olden days when the splendid diction hit the tone and temper of the anti-slavery hosts. His speech, however, showed neither the spirit that nerved him in the earlier time, nor the resources that formerly sustained him in vigorous and persuasive argument. He spoke rather in a vein of extenuation and reminiscence, as one whose work, judged by its beginnings, had perhaps ended unsatisfactorily as well as illogically, and for which there was no sufficient reason.[1198]

[Footnote 1198: Seward's Works, Vol. 5, pp. 550-556.]

This speech had the effect of widening the breach between him and his old associates, who bitterly resented his apparent indifference in the great contest, while men of a younger generation, looking at him with wonder and interest, found it hard to realise that he had been one of the most conspicuous and energetic figures in political life. How complete was the loss of his political influence is naïvely illustrated by Andrew D. White. "Mr. Cornell and I were arranging a programme for the approaching annual commencement when I suggested Mr. Seward for the main address. Mr. Cornell had been one of Mr. Seward's lifelong supporters, but he received this proposal coldly, pondered it for a few moments silently, and then said dryly: 'Perhaps you are right, but if you call him you will show to our students the deadest man that ain't buried in the State of New York.'"[1199]

[Footnote 1199: Autobiography, Vol. 1, p. 151.]

Samuel J. Tilden voiced the supreme ante-election confidence of the Democrats. "Speaking from an experience of more than thirty years in political observation and political action," he said, "I do not hesitate to say that in no presidential conflict since the days of Andrew Jackson have omens of victory to any party or any cause been so clear, so numerous, and so inspiring as those which now cheer the party of the national Democracy to battle in the cause of American liberty."[1200] The victory of 1867, in the opinion of leading Democrats, had removed the Empire State from the doubtful list, but while proclaiming their confidence of success many of them knew that a confidential circular, issued from the rooms of the Democratic State Committee and bearing the signature of Samuel J. Tilden, instructed certain persons in each of the up-State counties to telegraph William M. Tweed, "the minute the polls close and at his expense," the probable Republican majority.[1201] Its purpose was plain. The conspirators desired to know how many fraudulent votes would be needed to overcome the Republican superiority, and their method, then novel and ingenious, avoided all chance of failure to carry the State. Tilden denied knowledge of this circular. He also disclaimed its evil purpose, but preferred to remain silent rather than denounce the forgers.[1202]

[Footnote 1200: John Bigelow, Life of Samuel J. Tilden, Vol. 1, p. 217.]

[Footnote 1201: New York Tribune, November 14, 1868.]

[Footnote 1202: New York Evening Post, November 4, 1868; Harper's Weekly, September 30, 1876.]

Forewarned by the returns of 1867 Griswold's supporters, fearing fraud in the metropolis, invoked the aid of the United States Court to prevent the use of forged naturalisation papers, which resulted in the indictment of several men and the publication of fraudulent registry lists. Against such action John T. Hoffman, as mayor, violently protested. "We are on the eve of an important election," said his proclamation. "Intense excitement pervades the whole community. Unscrupulous, designing, and dangerous men, political partisans, are resorting to extraordinary means to increase it. Gross and unfounded charges of fraud are made by them against those high in authority. Threats are made against naturalised citizens, and a federal grand jury has been induced to find, in great haste and secrecy, bills of indictment for the purpose, openly avowed, of intimidating them in the discharge of their public duties.... Let no citizen, however, be deterred by any threats or fears, but let him assert his rights boldly and resolutely, and he will find his perfect protection under the laws and the lawfully constituted authorities of the State. By virtue of authority invested in me I hereby offer a reward of $100 to be paid on the arrest and conviction of any person charged ... with intimidating, obstructing or defrauding any voter in the exercise of his right as an elector."[1203] Thus did the Tweed Ring strike back.

[Footnote 1203: New York Times, November 2, 1868.]

The result of the election in the country at large deeply disappointed the Democrats. Grant obtained 214 electoral votes in twenty-six States, while Seymour secured 80 in eight States. In New York, however, the conspirators did their word well. Although the Republicans won a majority in both branches of the Legislature and elected eighteen of the thirty-one congressmen, Seymour carried the State by 10,000 and Hoffman by 27,946.

After the election the Union League Club charged that in New York City false naturalisation and fraudulent voting had been practised upon a gigantic scale. It appeared from its report that one man sold seven thousand fraudulent naturalisation certificates; that thousands of fictitious names, with false residences attached, were enrolled, and that gangs of repeaters marched from poll to poll, voting many times in succession. The Tribune showed that in twenty election districts the vote cast for Hoffman largely exceeded the registry lists, already heavily padded with fictitious names, and that by comparison with other years the aggregate State vote clearly revealed the work of the conspirators.[1204] Instead of being the choice of the people, it said, "Hoffman was 'elected' by the most infamous system of fraud."[1205] Andrew D. White wrote that "the gigantic frauds perpetrated in the sinks and dens of the great city have overborne the truthful vote and voice of the Empire State. The country knows this, and the Democratic party, flushed with a victory which fraud has won, hardly cares to deny it."[1206] A few months later Conkling spoke of it as a well known fact that John T. Hoffman was counted in. "The election was a barbarous burlesque," he continued. "Many thousand forged naturalisation papers were issued; some of them were white and some were coffee-coloured. The same witnesses purported to attest hundreds and thousands of naturalisation affidavits, and the stupendous fraud of the whole thing was and is an open secret.... Repeating, ballot-box stuffing, ruffianism, and false counting decided everything. Tweed made the election officers, and the election officers were corrupt. Thirty thousand votes were falsely added to the Democratic majority in New York and Brooklyn alone. Taxes and elections were the mere spoil and booty of a corrupt junta in Tammany. Usurpation and fraud inaugurated a carnival of corrupt disorder; and obscene birds without number swooped down to the harvest and gorged themselves on every side in plunder and spoliation."[1207]

[Footnote 1204: New York Tribune, November 6, 1868.]

[Footnote 1205: Ibid., November 7.]

[Footnote 1206: Ibid., November 23.]

[Footnote 1207: From speech of Conkling delivered in the U.S. Senate, April 24, 1879.--Thomas V. Cooper, American Politics, Book 3, p. 180.]

When Congress convened a committee, appointed to investigate naturalisation frauds in the city of New York, reported that prior to 1868 the Common Pleas and Superior Courts, controlling matters of naturalisation, annually averaged, from 1856 to 1867, 9,000 new voters, but that after the Supreme Court began making citizens on October 6, 1868, the number rapidly increased to 41,112. Several revelations added interest to this statement. Judge Daly served in the Common Pleas, while McCunn, Barnard, Cardozo, and others whom Tweed controlled, sat in the Supreme and Superior Courts. Daly required from three to five minutes to examine an applicant, but McCunn boasted that he could do it in thirty seconds, with the result that the Supreme Court naturalised from 1,800 to 2,100 per day, whereas the Common Pleas during the entire year acted upon only 3,140. On the other hand, the Supreme and Superior Courts turned out 37,967. "One day last week one of our 'upright judges,'" said the Nation, "invited a friend to sit by him while he played a little joke. Then he left off calling from the list before him and proceeded to call purely imaginary names invented by himself on the spur of the moment: John Smith, James Snooks, Thomas Noakes, and the like. For every name a man instantly answered and took a certificate. Finally, seeing a person scratching his head, the judge called out, 'George Scratchem!' 'Here,' responded a voice. 'Take that man outside to scratch,' said his honour to an usher, and resumed the more regular manufacture of voters."[1208]

[Footnote 1208: The Nation, October 29, 1868.]

To show that a conspiracy existed to commit fraud, the committee submitted valuable evidence contributed by the clerks of these courts. Instead of printing the usual number of blank certificates based on the annual average of 9,000, they ordered, between September 16 and October 23, more than seven times as many, or 69,000, of which 39,000 went to the Supreme Court. As this court had just gone into the naturalisation business the order seemed suspiciously large. At the time of the investigation 27,068 of these certificates were unaccounted for, and the court refused an examination of its records. However, by showing that the vote cast in 1868, estimated upon the average rate of the increase of voters, should have been 131,000 instead of 156,000, the committee practically accounted for them. The Nation unwittingly strengthened this measured extent of the fraud, declaring on the day the courts finished their work, that of "the 35,000 voters naturalised in this city alone, 10,000 are perhaps rightly admitted, 10,000 have passed through the machine without having been here five years, and the other 15,000 have never been near the courtroom."[1209] A table also published by the committee showed the ratio of votes to the population at each of the five preceding presidential elections to have been 1 to 8, while in 1868 it was 1 to 4.65. "The only fair conclusion from these facts would be," said the Nation, "that enormous frauds were perpetrated."[1210]

[Footnote 1209: The Nation, October 29, 1868.]

[Footnote 1210: Ibid., March 4, 1869.]

On the other hand, the Democratic minority of the committee, after examining Hoffman and Tweed, who disclaimed any knowledge of the transactions and affected to disbelieve the truth of the charges, pronounced the facts cited "stale slanders," and most of the witnesses "notorious swindlers, liars, and thieves," declaring that the fraudulent vote did not exceed 2,000, divided equally between the two parties. Moreover, it pronounced the investigation a shameful effort to convict the Democracy of crimes that were really the result of the long-continued misgovernment of the Republicans. If that party controlled the city, declared one critic, it would become as adept in "repeating" as it was in "gerrymandering" the State, whose Legislature could not be carried by the Democrats when their popular majority exceeded 48,000 as in 1867. This sarcastic thrust emphasised the notorious gerrymander which, in spite of the Tammany frauds, gave the Republicans a legislative majority of twenty-four on joint-ballot.

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XVI. INFLUENCE OF MONEY IN SENATORIAL ELECTIONS

1869

The election of a legislative majority in 1868 plunged the Republicans into a fierce contest over the choice of a successor to Edwin D. Morgan, whose term in the United States Senate ended on March 4. In bitterness it resembled the historic battle between Weed and Greeley in 1861. Morgan had made several mistakes. His support of Johnson during the first year of the latter's Administration discredited him, and although he diligently laboured to avoid all remembrance of it, the patronage which the President freely gave had continued to identify him with the Johnsonised federal officials. To overcome this distrust he presented letters from Sumner and Wade, testifying to his loyalty to the more radical element of the party.[1211] A revival of the story of his opposition to Wadsworth in 1862 also embarrassed him. He had overcome it when first elected to the Senate by the sustaining hand of Thurlow Weed, whose position in the management of the party was strengthened by Wadsworth's defeat; but now Weed was absent, and to aid in meeting the ugly charges which rendered his way devious and difficult, Morgan had recourse to Edwin M. Stanton, who wrote that Wadsworth, distinguishing the Senator from his betrayers, repeatedly spoke of him as a true friend and faithful supporter.[1212]

[Footnote 1211: New York Tribune, January 13 and 18, 1869.]

[Footnote 1212: New York Times, January 12, 1869.]

Morgan's strength, though of a negative kind, had its head concealed under the coils of Conkling's position. It was manifest that the latter's admirers were combining to depose Reuben E. Fenton, Morgan's chief competitor for the senatorial toga. Chester A. Arthur, looking into the future, had already recognised the need of a new alignment, and the young Senator evidenced the qualities that appealed to him. There was a common impression that if Morgan were re-elected, he would yield to the greater gifts of Conkling and the purpose, now so apparent, was to crush Fenton and make Conkling the head of an organisation which should include both Senators. John A. Griswold understood this and declined to embarrass Morgan by entering the race.

Fenton at this time was at the height of his power. His lieutenants, headed by Waldo M. Hutchins, the distributor of his patronage, excelled in the gifts of strategy, which had been illustrated in the election of Truman G. Younglove for speaker. They were dominated, also, by the favourite doctrine of political leaders that organisation must be maintained and victory won at any cost save by a revolution in party policy, and they entered the senatorial contest with a courage as sublime as it was relentless. Their chief, too, possessed the confidence of the party. His radicalism needed no sponsors. Besides, his four years' service as governor, strengthened by the veto of several bills calculated to increase the public burdens, had received the unmistakable approval of the people.

Nevertheless he was heavily handicapped. Greeley, still smarting under Fenton's failure to support him for governor in 1868, declared for Marshall O. Roberts, while Noah Davis, surprised at his insincerity, aided Morgan. If Greeley's grievance had merit, Davis' resentment was certainly justified. The latter claimed that after Conkling's election in 1867, Fenton promised to support him in 1869, and that upon the Governor's advice, to avoid the prejudice against a judge who engaged in politics, he had resigned from the Supreme Court and made a winning race for Congress.[1213]

[Footnote 1213: New York World, January 6, 1869.]

But the Commercial Advertiser, a journal then conducted by Conservatives, placed the most serious obstacle in Fenton's pathway, charging that an intimate friend of the Governor had received $10,000 on two occasions after the latter had approved bills for the New York Dry Dock and the Erie Railroad Companies.[1214] Although the Sun promptly pronounced it "a remarkable piece of vituperation,"[1215] and the Tribune, declaring "its source of no account," called it "a most scurrilous diatribe,"[1216] the leading Democratic journal of the State accepted it as "true."[1217] The story was not new. In the preceding summer, during an investigation into the alleged bribery of members of the Legislature of 1868, Henry Thompson, an Erie director, was asked if his company paid Governor Fenton any money for approving the bill legalising the acts of its directors in the famous "Erie war." Thompson refused to answer as the question fell without the scope of the committee's jurisdiction. Thereupon Thomas Murphy testified that Thompson told him that he saw two checks of $10,000 each paid to Hamilton Harris, the Governor's legal adviser, under an agreement that Fenton should sign the bill. Murphy added that afterwards, as chairman of a Republican political committee, he asked Jay Gould, president of the Erie company, for a campaign contribution, and was refused for the reason that he had already given $20,000 for Fenton. Harris and Gould knew nothing of the transaction.[1218]

[Footnote 1214: New York Commercial Advertiser, January 2, 1869.]

[Footnote 1215: New York Sun, January 4.]

[Footnote 1216: New York Tribune, January 9.]

[Footnote 1217: New York World, January 6.]

[Footnote 1218: The Nation, March 18.]

Matthew Hale, chairman of the Senate investigating committee, did not include this testimony in his report, and the startling and improbable publication in the Commercial Advertiser must have withered as the sensation of a day, had not the belief obtained that the use of money in senatorial contests played a prominent and important part. This scandalous practice was modern. Until 1863 nothing had been heard of the use of money in such contests. But what was then whispered, and openly talked about in 1867 as Conkling testified, now became a common topic of conversation. "It is conceded on all hands," said the Times, editorially, "that money will decide the contest."[1219]

[Footnote 1219: New York Times, January 9, 1869.]

Talk of this kind appealed to the pessimist who believes a legislator is always for sale, but Speaker Younglove, an assemblyman of long experience, knowing that good committee appointments were more potent than other influences, tactfully withheld the announcement of his committees. Such a proceeding had never before occurred in the history of the State, and twelve years later, when George H. Sharpe resorted to the same tactics, William B. Woodin declared that it made Younglove "a political corpse."[1220] Nevertheless, Morgan soon understood that chairmanships and assignments on great committees were vastly more attractive than anything he had to offer, and on January 16 (1869) the first ballot of the caucus gave Fenton 52 votes to 40 for Morgan. A month later, Richard M. Blatchford, then a justice of the United States Supreme Court, wrote Thurlow Weed: "Morgan loses his election because, you being sick, his backbone was missing."[1221]

[Footnote 1220: New York Tribune, January 13, 1881.]

[Footnote 1221: T.W. Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 462.]

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XVII. TWEED CONTROLS THE STATE

1869-70

William M. Tweed had become a State senator in 1867. At this time he held seventeen city offices.[1222] But one more place did not embarrass him, and in entering upon his new career he promptly invoked the tactics that strengthened him in the metropolis. Through the influence of a Republican colleague on the Board of Supervisors he secured appointments upon the important committees of Finance and Internal Affairs, the first passing upon all appropriations, and the second controlling most of the subordinate legislation in the State including Excise measures. This opportunity for reviewing general legislation gave him the advantage of a hawk circling in the sky of missing no chance for plunder. By means of generous hospitality and a natural affability he quickly won the esteem of his fellow senators, many of whom responded to his gentle suggestion of city clerkships for constituents. In his pretended zeal to serve Republicans he had offered, during the recent contest for United States senator, to marshal the Democrats to the support of Charles J. Folger, the leader of the Senate, provided two Republican senators and twelve assemblymen would vote for him.[1223] Persons familiar with Tweed's true character understood that a senator of Folger's integrity and ability would be less in the way at Washington than in Albany, but his apparent desire to help the Genevan did him no harm.

[Footnote 1222: New York Nation, September 30, 1869.]

[Footnote 1223: New York World, January 12, 1869.]

Thus intrenched in the good will of his colleagues Tweed, early in the session, began debauching the tax levies for the city and county of New York. His party controlled the Assembly, and his henchman, William Hitchman, whom he had made speaker, controlled its committees. What the Senate did, therefore, would be approved in the House. The tax levies contained items of expense based upon estimates by the different departments of the municipal and county governments. They were prepared by the comptroller, examined by the city council and county supervisors respectively, and submitted to the Legislature for its approval. In the process they might be swelled by the comptroller and the two boards, but the Legislature, acting as an outside and disinterested party, usually trimmed them. Tweed, however, proposed to swell them again. Accordingly projects for public improvements, asylums, hospitals, and dispensaries that never existed except on paper, appeared as beneficiaries of county and city. The comptroller concealed these thefts by the issue of stocks and bonds and the creation of a floating debt, which formed no part of his statements.[1224] When the committee on appropriations reported these additions, "the increase," it was claimed in the progress of the discussion, "was called for only by plunderers."

[Footnote 1224: Gustavus Myers, History of Tammany Hall, p. 274.]

The passage of these vicious appropriations, requiring the help of Republicans, gave rise to numerous charges of bribery and corruption. "It was fully believed here," said the Tribune, "that tax levies supplied the means for fabricating naturalisation papers and hiring repeaters whereby Republicans were swindled out of the vote of this State."[1225] Other corrupt practices in connection with important railroad legislation, having special reference to the passage of the so-called "Erie Bill," likewise attracted public attention. But Matthew Hale's investigating committee, after a long and fruitless session in the summer of 1868, expressed the opinion that the crime of bribery could not be proven under the law as it then existed, since both parties to the transaction were liable to punishment. This led to a new statute exempting from prosecution the giver of a bribe which was accepted.

[Footnote 1225: New York Tribune, July 24, 1869.]

However, the Legislature elected in November, 1868, proved no less plastic in the hands of the Boss, who again corrupted the tax levies. After allowing every just item the committee coolly added six millions,[1226] an amount subsequently reduced to three.[1227] This iniquity was immediately denounced and exposed through pamphlets, journals, and debates. Men frankly admitted that no reason or economic principle justified the existence of such monstrous levies. Indeed, every honest influence, legal, social, and political, opposed it. The press condemned it, good men mourned over it, and wise men unmasked it. But with the help of twenty Republicans, backed by the approval of John T. Hoffman, the bill became a law. This time, however, indignation did not die with the Legislature. The Tribune, charging that the twenty Republican assemblymen whose names it published were "bought and paid with cash stolen by means of tax levies," insisted that "the rascals" should not be renominated. "We firmly believe," it added, "that no Republican voted for these levies except for pay ... and we say distinctly that we do not want victory this fall if it is to be in all respects like the victory of last fall."[1228]

[Footnote 1226: New York Tribune, July 24, 1869.]

[Footnote 1227: Ibid., July 22.]

[Footnote 1228: Ibid., July 24, and 29.]

Local party leaders, resenting the Tribune's declarations, packed conventions, renominated the black-listed legislators, and spread such demoralisation that George William Curtis, Thomas Hillhouse, and John C. Robinson withdrew from the State ticket. As a punishment for his course the State Committee, having little faith in the election of its candidates, substituted Horace Greeley for comptroller in place of Hillhouse.[1229] In accepting the nomination Greeley expressed the hope that it never would be said of him that he asked for an office, or declined an honourable service to which he was called.[1230]

[Footnote 1229: The Republican State convention, held at Syracuse on September 30, 1869, nominated the following ticket: Secretary of state, George William Curtis, Richmond; Comptroller Thomas Hillhouse, Ontario; Treasurer, Thomas S. Chatfield, Tioga; Attorney-General, Martin I. Townsend, Rensselaer; Engineer and Surveyor, John C. Robinson, Broome; Canal Commissioner, Stephen F. Hoyt, Steuben; Prison Inspector, Daniel D. Conover, New York; Court of Appeals, Lewis B. Woodruff, New York; Charles Mason, Madison.

Franz Sigel, Horace Greeley, and William B. Taylor of Oneida were subsequently substituted for Curtis, Hillhouse, and Robinson.]

[Footnote 1230: New York Tribune, October 11, 1869.]

If corruption had demoralised Republicans, fear of a repetition of the Tweed frauds paralysed them. The plan of having counties telegraph the votes needed to overcome an up-State majority could be worked again as successfully as before, since the machinery existed and the men were more dexterous. Besides, danger of legal punishment had disappeared. The Union League Club had established nothing, the congressional investigation had resulted in no one's arrest, and Matthew Hale's committee had found existing law insufficient. Moreover, Hale had reported that newspaper charges were based simply upon rumours unsupported by proof.[1231]

[Footnote 1231: Appleton's Cyclopædia, 1869, p. 486.]

Tweed understood all this, and his confidence whetted an ambition to control the State as absolutely as he did the city. At the Syracuse convention which assembled in September (1869) Tilden represented the only influence that could be vitalised into organised opposition. Tilden undoubtedly despised Tweed. Yet he gave him countenance and saved the State chairmanship.[1232]

[Footnote 1232: The Democratic ticket was as follows: Secretary of state, Homer A. Nelson, Dutchess; Comptroller, William F. Allen, Oswego; Treasurer, Wheeler H. Bristol, Tioga; Attorney-General, Marshall B. Champlain, Allegany; State Engineer, Van Rensselaer Richmond, Wayne; Canal Commissioner, William W. Wright; Prison Inspector, Fordyce Laflin, Ulster; Court of Appeals, John A. Lott, Kings; Robert Earl, Herkimer.]

The campaign pivoted on the acceptance or rejection of the new State constitution, framed by the convention of 1867 and submitted by the Legislature of 1869. From the first the constitutional convention had become a political body. Republicans controlled it, and their insistence upon unrestricted negro suffrage gave colour to the whole document, until the Democrats, demanding its defeat, focused upon it their united opposition. As a candidate for comptroller Horace Greeley likewise became an issue. Democrats could not forget his impatient, petulant, and, as they declared, unfair charges of election frauds, and every satirist made merry at his expense. To denunciation and abuse, however, Greeley paid no attention. "They shall be most welcome to vote against me if they will evince unabated devotion to the cause of impartial suffrage."[1233] But the people, tired of Republican rule, turned the State over to the Democrats regardless of men.[1234]

[Footnote 1233: New York Tribune, October 11, 1869.]

[Footnote 1234: Nelson for secretary of state over Sigel, 22,524; Allen for comptroller over Greeley, 26,533; Greeley over Sigel in New York City, 1,774; Sigel over Greeley in the State, 4,938; against the constitution, 19,759; majority for the judiciary article, 6,006.--New York Tribune, November 23, 1869.]

Although this result was not unexpected, no one dreamed that the Democracy would win every department of the State government, executive, legislative, and judicial. For seventeen years the Democrats had twice elected the governor and once secured the Assembly, while the Republicans, holding the Senate continuously and the governorship and Assembly most of the time, had come to regard themselves the people's lawmakers and the representatives of executive authority. But Tweed's quiet canvass in the southern tier of counties traversed by the Erie Railroad exhibited rare cunning in the capture of the State Senate. Until this fortress of Republican opposition surrendered, Hoffman's appointments, like those of Seward in 1839, could not be confirmed.

After this election William M. Tweed's supremacy was acknowledged. In 1867 he had captured the Assembly and elected most of the State officials; in 1868, after forcing the nomination of John T. Hoffman, he made him governor by a system of gigantic frauds; and now in 1869, having employed similar tactics in the southern tier of counties, he had carried the Senate by four majority, secured the Assembly by sixteen, and for the third time elected the State officials. This made him leader of the State Democracy. Seymour so understood it, and Tilden knew that he existed only as a figurehead.

Tweed's power became more apparent after the Legislature opened in January, 1870. He again controlled the Assembly committees through William Hitchman, his speaker; he arranged them to his liking in the Senate through Allen C. Beach, the lieutenant-governor; and he sweetened a majority of the members in both houses with substantial hopes of large rewards. This defeated an organisation, called the Young Democracy, which hoped to break his power by the passage of a measure known as the Huckleberry Charter, transferring the duties of State commissions to the Board of Aldermen. Then Tweed appeared with a charter. Sweeny was its author and home-rule its alleged object. It substituted for metropolitan commissions, devised and fostered by Republicans, municipal departments charged with equivalent duties, whose heads were appointed by the mayor. It also created a department of docks, and merged the election of city and state officials. Its crowning audacity, however, was the substitution of a superintendent of public works for street commissioner, to be appointed by the mayor for a term of four years, and to be removable only after an impeachment trial, in which the entire six judges of the Common Pleas Court must participate. It was apparent that this charter perpetuated whatever was most feared in the system of commissions, and obliterated all trace of the corrective. It was obvious, also, that by placing officials beyond the reach of everybody interested in their good behaviour except the Courts, whose aid could be invoked only by the mayor, and by him only for the extreme offense of malfeasance, it gave a firmer hold to a Ring actuated by the resolute determination to enrich itself at the public expense.

Yet this measure encountered little opposition. The Young Democracy, backed by Tilden and the remnant of the Albany Regency, exposed its dangerous features, the Times called it an "abominable charter,"[1235] and Manton Marble bitterly denounced it. But Tweed raised no flag of truce, and after the distribution of a million of dollars the Sweeny charter had an easy passage through both houses, the Senate recording but two votes against it and the Assembly only five.[1236] It was said that five Republican senators received $40,000 each, and six others $10,000 each. Six hundred thousand went to a lobbyist to buy assemblymen.[1237] Within three days after its passage (April 5) the Governor had approved it, the Mayor had appointed Tweed to the position of most power, and Sweeny had taken the place of most lucre. Thereafter, as commissioner of public works, the Boss was to be "the bold burglar," and his silent partner "the dark plotter." A week later the departments of police and health, the office of comptroller, the park commission, and the great law bureau had passed into the control of their pals, with Connolly as "sneak-thief" and Hall "the dashing bandit of the gang."[1238] Indeed, a month had scarcely elapsed before the ad interim Board of Audit, authorised by the Legislature as an additional scheme for theft, and composed of Tweed, Hall, and Connolly, had ordered the payment of $6,000,000, and within the year, as subsequent revelations disclosed, its bills aggregated $12,250,000, of which 66 per cent. went to the thieves.[1239]

[Footnote 1235: New York Times, March 25, 1870.]

[Footnote 1236: The Tweed Case, 1876, Vol. 2, p. 1212.]

[Footnote 1237: Document No. 8, pp. 84-92; Gustavus Myers, History of Tammany Hall, p. 272; James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 6, p. 395; New York Tribune, September 17, 1877.]

[Footnote 1238: Albert B. Paine, Life of Thomas Nast, p. 143.]

[Footnote 1239: John Bigelow, Life of Tilden, Vol. 2, p. 185.]

John T. Hoffman approved Tweed's measures. During the earlier months of his gubernatorial career his veto of several bills granting aid to railroads gave promise of independence, but after Tweed and Sweeny became directors of the Erie he approved the measure enabling corrupt operators to retain possession of the road for an indefinite period in defiance of the stockholders. It is probable that the real character and fatal tendency of his associates had not been revealed to him. Nevertheless, ambition seems to have blunted a strong, alert mind. The appointment of Ingraham, Cardozo, and Barnard to the General Term of the Supreme Court within the city of New York, if further evidence were needed, revealed the Governor's subserviency. To avoid the Tweed judges as well as interruption to the business of the Courts, the Bar Association asked the Executive to designate outside judges. Tweed understood the real object, and before the lawyers' committee, consisting of Charles O'Conor, Joseph H. Choate, Henry Nicoll, William H. Peckham, and William E. Curtis, could reach Albany, the Governor, under telegraphic instructions from the Boss, appointed the notorious trio. Such revelations of weakness plunged the Evening Post and other admirers into tribulation. "The moral of Hoffman's fall," said the Nation, "is that respectable citizens must give up the notion that good can be accomplished by patting anybody on the back who, having got by accident or intrigue into high official position, treats them to a few spasms of virtue and independence.... Had Hoffman held out against the Erie Ring he would have had no chance of renomination, all hope of the Presidency would be gone, and he would find himself ostracised by his Democratic associates."[1240]

[Footnote 1240: The Nation, May 27, 1869.]

Hoffman knew this as well as the Nation, and his obedience made him the favourite of the Democratic State convention which assembled at Rochester on September 21, 1870. It was a Tweed body. When he nodded the delegates became unanimous. Tilden called it to order and had his pocket picked by a gentleman in attendance.[1241] "We hope he has a realising sense of the company he keeps," said the Nation, "when he opens conventions for Mr. Tweed, Mr. Hall, and Mr. Sweeny."[1242] A week later it expressed the opinion that "Tilden's appearance ought to be the last exhibition the country is to witness of the alliance of decent men for any purpose with these wretched thieves and swindlers."[1243] The plundering Boss denied so much as a hearing to the Young Democracy whom Tilden encouraged, while their delegates, without vote or voice or seat, witnessed the renomination of Hoffman by acclamation, and saw the programme, drafted by Tweed, executed with unanimity. Mighty was Tammany, and, mightier still, its Tweed! The Rochester authorities urged the departure of the delegates before dark, and upon their arrival at Jersey City the next morning the local police made indiscriminate arrests and locked up large batches of them, including a Commissioner of Charities and Correction.[1244]

[Footnote 1241: The Nation, September 29, 1870.]

[Footnote 1242: Ibid.]

[Footnote 1243: Ibid., October 6.

The following officials were nominated by acclamation: Governor, John T. Hoffman; Lieutenant-Governor, Allen C. Beach; Comptroller, Asher P. Nichols; Canal Commissioners, John D. Fay and George W. Chapman; Prison Inspector, Solomon E. Scheu.]

[Footnote 1244: The Nation, September 29.]

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XVIII. CONKLING DEFEATS FENTON

1870

The Republican State convention which assembled at Saratoga on September 7 was not so harmonious as the Tammany body. For several years Senator Morgan and Governor Fenton had represented the two sections of the party, the latter, soon after his inauguration on January 1, 1865, having commenced building his political machine. As an organiser he had few equals. One writer declares him "the ablest after Van Buren."[1245] At all events he soon became the head of the party, controlling its conventions and distributing its patronage. After entering the Senate he paid assiduous attention to the President. The repeal of the Tenure-of-Office Act and an effort to secure the confirmation of Alexander T. Stewart for secretary of the treasury opened the way to Grant's heart, and for these and other favours he received the lion's share of appointments. In the meantime his opponents insisted that under cover of loud radical professions he had relied wholly upon trickery for success, banning able men and demoralising the party.[1246]

[Footnote 1245: Charles E. Fitch, formerly editor of the Rochester Democrat-Chronicle.]

[Footnote 1246: Harper's Weekly, June 24, 1871.]

To these criticisms and Conkling's advances the President presented a listening ear. Conkling had not thrust himself upon Grant, but the more the President tired of Fenton's importunities, the more he liked Conkling's wit and sarcasm and forceful speech. As patronage gradually disappeared Fenton redoubled his efforts to retain it, until in his desperation he addressed a letter to the Chief Executive, referring to his own presidential aspirations, and offering to withdraw and give him New York if the question of offices could be satisfactorily arranged.[1247] This ended their relations.

[Footnote 1247: Conkling's speech, New York Times, July 24, 1872.]

Subsequent appointments, however, did not meet with more favour. Fenton declared them fatal to party harmony, since some of the new officials, besides holding confidential relations with Tammany, had been friendly to the Philadelphia movement in 1866 and to Hoffman in 1868. Bitter criticism especially followed the nomination of Thomas Murphy for collector of New York in place of Moses H. Grinnell. "The President appointed Murphy without consulting either Senator," says Stewart, for thirty years a senator from Nevada. "Grant met him at Long Branch, and being thoroughly acquainted with the country and quite a horseman he made himself such a serviceable friend that the Chief Executive thought him a fit person for collector."[1248] The New York Times said, "the President has taken a step which all his enemies will exult over and his friends deplore."[1249] The Tribune was more severe. "The objection is not that he belongs to a particular wing of the Republican party," it said, "but that he does not honestly belong to any; that his political record is one of treachery well rewarded; his business record such that the merchants of New York have no confidence in him; and the record of his relations to the government such that, until cleared up, he ought to hold no place of trust under it."[1250] Yet Murphy bore endorsements from men of the highest respectability. "Of those who in writing recommended his appointment or confirmation," said Conkling, "are Edwin D. Morgan, George Opdyke, Henry Clews, John A. Griswold, Charles J. Folger, Matthew Hale, George Dawson, and others. Their signatures are in my possession."[1251]

[Footnote 1248: William M. Stewart, Reminiscences, p. 255.]

[Footnote 1249: June 17, 1870.]

[Footnote 1250: September 19, 1871.]

[Footnote 1251: New York Times, July 24, 1872.]

Nevertheless, Conkling preferred another, and until urged by his friend Stewart to secure Murphy's confirmation "to avoid the possible appointment of a less deserving man," he hesitated to act. "I told him that the struggle to confirm Murphy would enlighten the President as to the political situation in New York, and that he would undoubtedly accord him the influence to which he was entitled. Then, to force the fight, Conkling, at my suggestion, objected to further postponement."[1252] The contest came on July 11, 1870.

[Footnote 1252: Stewart, Reminiscences, pp. 255-256.]

Fenton recalled Murphy's malodorous army contracts, spoke of his disloyalty to the party while a member of the State Senate, submitted proof of his unscrupulous business relations with the leaders of Tammany, and denounced his political treachery in the gubernatorial contest of 1866. In this fierce three hours' arraignment the Senator spared no one. He charged that Charles J. Folger and Chester A. Arthur had appeared in Washington in Murphy's behalf, because to the latter's potent and corrupt influence with Tammany, Folger owed his election to the Court of Appeals in the preceding May,[1253] while Arthur, through Murphy's unclean bargaining with Tweed, was fattening as counsel for the New York City Tax Commission.[1254]

[Footnote 1253: Under the provisions of the new judiciary article of the Constitution a chief justice and six associate justices of the Court of Appeals were elected on May 17, 1870, each party being allowed to put up only four candidates for associate justices. To complete their ticket the Democrats selected Folger and Andrews, two of the four Republican candidates. The election resulted in the choice of the Democratic ticket.]

[Footnote 1254: New York Times, July 12, 1870.]

In his reply Conkling spoke for an hour in his most vigorous style. "Every sentence," said Stewart, "was replete with logic, sarcasm, reason, and invective. Sometimes the senators would rise to their feet, so great was the effect upon them. Toward the conclusion of his speech Conkling walked down the aisle to a point opposite the seat of Fenton. 'It is true,' he said, 'that Thomas Murphy is a mechanic, a hatter by trade; that he worked at his trade in Albany supporting an aged father and mother and crippled brother, and that while thus engaged another visited Albany and played a very different rôle.' At this point he drew from his pocket a court record, and extending it toward Fenton, he continued,--'the particulars of which I will not relate except at the special request of my colleague.' Fenton's head dropped upon his desk as if struck down with a club. The scene in the Senate was tragic."[1255]

[Footnote 1255: Stewart, Reminiscences, pp. 256-7.

"In early life Fenton, having undertaken to carry $12,000 to Albany, reported the money lost. He was arrested and discharged after much testimony was taken. Whether accused justly or unjustly (most persons thought unjustly) it blurred his career. Conkling had a copy of the proceedings before the criminal court."--Ibid. See also The Nation, July 14, 1870.]

It was a desperate battle. For several weeks heated politicians, with pockets full of affidavits, had hurried to Washington from all parts of New York, and while it was admitted that the appointee was not a shining credit to his backers, the belief obtained that the control of the party in the State depended upon the result. The two Senators so understood it, and their preparation for the contest omitted all amenities. Fenton, regardless of whom he hit, relied upon carefully drawn charges sustained by affidavits; Conkling trusted to a fire of scathing sarcasm, supported by personal influence with his Democratic colleagues and the President's power in his own party. The result showed the senior Senator's shrewdness, for when he ceased talking the Senate, by a vote of 48 to 3, confirmed the appointment.

From Washington the contest was transferred to Saratoga. Fenton, desiring to impress and coerce the appointing power, made a herculean effort to show that although Conkling had the ear of the President, he could control the convention, and his plan included the election of Charles H. Van Wyck for temporary chairman and himself for permanent president. No doubt existed that at this moment he possessed great power. Delegates crowded his headquarters, and a score of lieutenants reported him far in the lead. From Fenton's accession to the governorship a majority of the State Committee had supported him, while chairmen, secretaries, and inspectors of the Republican district organisations in New York City, many of whom held municipal appointments under Tweed, had been welded together in the interest of the Chautauquan's ascendency. To try to break such a combine was almost attempting the impossible. Indeed, until the President, in a letter dated August 22, expressed the wish that Conkling might go as a delegate, the Senator had hesitated to attend the convention.[1256] Even on the eve of its meeting he counselled with friends on the policy of not taking his seat, while his backers talked of harmony and proposed George William Curtis for chairman. The confident Fenton, having retired for the night, would listen to no compromise. Meanwhile the senior Senator, accompanied by Thomas Murphy, visited the rooms of the up-State delegates, telling them that a vote for Fenton was a blow at the Administration.[1257] This was the argument of desperation. It meant to one man the loss of a federal office and to another the hope that one might be gained. Such a significant statement, addressed by the favourite of the President to internal revenue and post-office officials, naturally demoralised the Fenton ranks, and when the convention acted Curtis had 220 votes to 150 for Van Wyck.[1258] Promptly upon this announcement Conkling, with great cunning, as if acting the part of a peacemaker, moved that the committee on organisation report Van Wyck for permanent president. The acceptance of this suggestion without dissent settled Fenton, who an hour later heard Conkling named at the head and himself at the foot of the committee on resolutions.

[Footnote 1256: A.R. Conkling, Life of Roscoe Conkling, p. 328. New York World, September 8, 1870.]

[Footnote 1257: The Nation, September 15, 1870.]

[Footnote 1258: "During the vote the delegates commenced a system of cheering, first for Conkling, then for Fenton. Senator Conkling was very conspicuous throughout the balloting. His friends gathered around him, while the other side surrounded Fenton, and whenever either moved their friends cheered.... Had there been a secret ballot Fenton would have won in spite of the threats and bribes."--New York World, September 8, 1870.]

Thus far Conkling's success had been as unexpected as it was dazzling. Heretofore he had been in office but not in power. Now for the first time he had a strong majority behind him. He could do as he liked. He possessed the confidence of the President, the devotion of his followers, and the admiration of his opponents, who watched his tactics in the selection of a candidate for governor with deepest interest. It was a harrowing situation. For several weeks Horace Greeley had been the principal candidate talked of, and although the editor himself did not "counsel or advise" his nomination, he admitted that "he would feel gratified if the convention should deliberately adjudge him the strongest candidate."[1259] Several circumstances added to his strength. Conkling had encouraged his candidacy to checkmate Fenton's support of Marshall O. Roberts. For this reason the President also favoured him. Besides, Stewart L. Woodford, who really expected little, offered to withdraw if Greeley desired it,[1260] while DeWitt C. Littlejohn, always a Titan in the political arena, likewise side-stepped. These influences, as Conkling intended, silenced Fenton and suppressed Roberts.

[Footnote 1259: New York Tribune, August 27, 1870.]

[Footnote 1260: Ibid., September 8.]

On the other hand, Greeley's old-time enemies had not disappeared. No one really liked him,[1261] while party managers, the shadow of whose ill-will never ceased to obscure his chances, shook their heads. Reasons given in 1868 were repeated with greater emphasis, and to prevent his nomination which now seemed imminent, influences that had suddenly made him strong were as quickly withdrawn. It was intimated that the President preferred Woodford, and to defeat Fenton's possible rally to Roberts use was again made of Curtis. The latter did not ask such preferment, but Conkling, who had made him chairman, promised him the governorship and Curtis being human acquiesced. In the fierce encounter, however, this strategy, as questionable as it was sudden, destroyed Greeley, humiliated Curtis, and nominated Woodford.[1262] Conkling's tactics neither commended his judgment nor flattered his leadership. But Conkling did not then possess the nerve openly to make war upon Greeley. On the contrary, after secretly informing his lieutenants of his preference for Curtis, he dodged the vote on the first ballot and supported Greeley on the second, thus throwing his friends into confusion. To extricate them from disorder he sought an adjournment, while Fenton, very adroitly preventing such an excursion to the repair-shop, forced the convention to support Woodford or accept Greeley. The feeling obtained that Conkling had lost the prestige of his early victory, but in securing control of the State Committee he began the dictatorship that was destined to continue for eleven years.

[Footnote 1261: Edward Cary, Life of George William Curtis, p. 230.]

[Footnote 1262: Three ballots were cast as follows:

Woodford 153 170-1/2 258 Greeley 143 139 105-1/2 Curtis 104-1/2 87-1/2 20 ------- ------- ------- Total 390-1/2 397 383-1/2

The following ticket was nominated: Governor, Stewart L. Woodford, Kings; Lieutenant-Governor, Sigmund Kaufman, Kings; Comptroller, Abiah W. Palmer, Dutchess; Canal Commissioners, Absalom Nelson, Erie; Alexander Barkley, Washington; Prison Inspector, John Parkhurst, Clinton.]

The New York Times charged Greeley's defeat upon Fenton, insisting that "the fault is not to be laid at the door of Senator Conkling."[1263] Conkling also explained that "Greeley was pertinaciously supported by all those connected with the custom-house. He failed from a want of confidence in him, so general among the delegates that electioneering and persuasion could not prevail against it, and even those who voted for him declared, in many instances, that they did so as a harmless compliment, knowing that he could not be nominated."[1264] Greeley himself avoided the controversy, but his acknowledgment of Fenton's loyal support and his sharp censure of Curtis indicated full knowledge of Conkling's strategy, to whom, however, he imputed no "bad faith," since "his aid had not been solicited and none promised."[1265] Nevertheless, the great editor did not forget!

[Footnote 1263: September 10 and 14, 1870.]

[Footnote 1264: From speech of July 23, 1872, New York Times, July 24, 1872.]

[Footnote 1265: New York Tribune, September 13, 1870.]

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XIX. TWEED WINS AND FALLS

1870

The campaign that followed the control of Tweed and Conkling combined the spectacular and the dramatic. The platform of each party was catchy. Both congratulated Germany for its victories and France for its republic. Cuba also was remembered. But here the likeness ceased. Democrats praised Hoffman, arraigned Grant, sympathised with Ireland, demanded the release of Fenian raiders and the abolition of vexatious taxes, declared the system of protection a robbery, and resolved that a license law was more favourable to temperance than prohibition. On the other hand, Republicans praised the President, arraigned the Governor, applauded payments on the national debt and the reduction of taxation, denounced election frauds and subventions to sectarian schools, and resolved that so long as towns and cities have the right to license the sale of liquor, they should also have the right to prohibit its sale. The live issue, however, was Tammany and the Tweed frauds. Congress had authorised Circuit Courts of the United States to appoint in every election district one person from each party to watch the registration and the casting and the count of votes. It had also empowered United States marshals to appoint deputies to keep order at the polls and to arrest for offences committed in their presence. Against these acts the Democrats vigorously protested, declaring them unconstitutional, revolutionary, and another step toward centralisation, while Republicans pointed out their necessity in the interest of a fair vote and an honest count.

To Conkling the result of the campaign was of the utmost importance. He had suddenly come into power, and success would materially aid him in carrying out his policy of reorganising the party in the metropolis. For many years, under an arrangement with Tammany, Republicans had held important municipal positions. This custom had grown out of the appointment of mixed commissions, created by Republican legislatures, which divided the patronage between the two parties. But since 1865, under Fenton's skilful manipulation, these Tammany-Republicans, as they were called, had become the ardent promoters of the Fenton machine, holding places on the general and district committees, carrying primaries with the aid of Democratic votes, and resorting to methods which fair-minded men did not approve. Among other things it was charged that Fenton himself had a secret understanding with Democratic leaders.[1266] These rumours had aroused the suspicions of many Republicans, who thought it time to dissolve the Tammany partnership, and having obtained control of the State Committee in the late convention, Conkling proposed to reorganise the New York general committee. Fenton was not unmindful of Conkling's purpose. It had been disclosed in the convention, and to defeat it the Chautauquan was indifferent to ways and means. During much of the campaign he absented himself from the State, while threats of avenging the appointment of Murphy and the removal of Grinnell created the apprehension that his faction would secretly oppose the ticket.[1267]

[Footnote 1266: A.R. Conkling, Life of Roscoe Conkling, p. 329.]

[Footnote 1267: "Governor Fenton and his friends were lukewarm throughout the campaign, the Governor absenting himself from the State much of the time. Late in October he returned from the Western States, and on the 31st, five days before election, he made a speech." From Conkling's speech of July 22, 1872. New York Times, July 24.]

Throughout the canvass Conkling was energetic. He spoke frequently. That his temper was hot no one who looked at him could doubt, but he had it in tight control. Although he encountered unfriendly demonstrations, especially in New York, the pettiness of ruffled vanity did not appear. Nothing could be more easy and graceful than his manner on these occasions. His expository statements, lucid, smooth, and equally free from monotony and abruptness, were models of their kind. In dealing with election frauds in New York his utterances, without growing more vehement or higher keyed, found expression in the fire of his eye and the resistless strength of his words. The proud, bold nature of the man seemed to flash out, startling and thrilling the hearer by the power of his towering personality.

Revelations of fraud had been strengthened by the publication of the Eighth Census. In many election districts it appeared that the count was three, four, five, and even six times as large as an honest vote could be. Proofs existed, including in some instances a confession, that in 1868 the same men registered more than one hundred times under different names--one man one hundred and twenty-seven times. Instances were known and admitted in which the same man on the same day voted more than twenty times for John T. Hoffman. "To perpetuate this infamy," declared Conkling, "Mayor Hall has invented since the publication of the census new escapes for repeaters by changing the numbers and the boundaries of most of the election districts, in some cases bisecting blocks and buildings, so that rooms on the same premises are in different districts, thus enabling colonised repeaters to register and vote often, and to find doors of escape left open by officials who have sworn to keep them closed." The registration for 1870, although twenty thousand less than in 1868, he declared, contained seventeen thousand known fraudulent entries.[1268] The newspapers strengthened his arguments. In one of Nast's cartoons Tweed as "Falstaff" reviews his army of repeaters, with Hoffman as sword-bearer, and Comptroller Sweeny, Mayor Hall, James Fisk, Jr., and Jay Gould as spectators.[1269] Another pre-election cartoon, entitled "The Power behind the Throne," presented Governor Hoffman crowned and robed as king, with Tweed grasping the sword of power and Sweeny the axe of an headsman.[1270]

[Footnote 1268: New York Times, November 7, 1870.]

[Footnote 1269: Harper's Weekly, November 5, 1870.]

[Footnote 1270: Harper's Weekly, October 29, 1870.]

Democrats resented these attacks. People, still indifferent to or ignorant of Tweed's misdeeds, rested undisturbed. The Citizens' Association of New York had memorialised the Legislature to pass the Tweed charter, men of wealth and character petitioned for its adoption, and the press in the main approved it.[1271] Even the World, after its bitter attacks in the preceding winter upon the Ring officials, championed their cause.[1272] "There is not another municipal government in the world," said Manton Marble, "which combines so much character, capacity, experience, and energy as are to be found in the city government of New York under the new charter."[1273] The final Democratic rally of the campaign also contributed to Tammany's glory. Horatio Seymour was the guest of honor and August Belmont chairman. Conspicuous in the list of vice-presidents were Samuel J. Tilden, George Tichnor Curtis, Augustus Schell, and Charles O'Conor, while Tweed, with Hoffman and McClellan, reviewed thirty thousand marchers in the presence of one hundred thousand people who thronged Union Square, attracted by an entertainment as lavish as the fêtes of Napoleon III. To many this prodigal expenditure of money suggested as complete and sudden a collapse to Tweed as had befallen the French Emperor, then about to become the prisoner of Germany. In the midst of the noise Seymour, refraining from committing himself to Tammany's methods, read a carefully written essay on the canals.[1274] It was noted, too, that Tilden did not speak.

[Footnote 1271: Appleton's Cyclopædia, 1870, pp. 543, 544; Frank J. Goodnow in Bryce's American Commonwealth, Vol. 1, p. 342.]

[Footnote 1272: New York World, March 29, 1870.]

[Footnote 1273: Ibid., June 13, 1871.]

[Footnote 1274: Ibid., Oct. 28, 1870.]

The election resulted in the choice of all the Democratic candidates, with sixteen of the thirty-one congressmen and a majority in each branch of the Legislature. Hall was also re-elected mayor.[1275] Republicans extracted a bit of comfort out of the reduced majority in New York City, but to all appearances Tammany had tightened its grip. Indeed, on New Year's Day, 1871, when Hoffman and Hall, with almost unlimited patronage to divide, were installed for a second time, the Boss had reason to feel that he could do as he liked. From a modest house on Henry Street he moved to Fifth Avenue. At his summer home in Greenwich he erected a stable with stalls of finest mahogany. His daughter's wedding became a prodigal exhibition of great wealth, and admittance to the Americus Club, his favourite retreat, required an initiation fee of one thousand dollars. To the poor he gave lavishly. In the winter of 1870-71 he donated one thousand dollars to each alderman to buy coal and food for the needy. His own ward received fifty thousand. Finally, in return for his gifts scattered broadcast to the press and to an army of protégés, it was proposed to erect a statue "in commemoration of his services to the Commonwealth of New York." His followers thought him invulnerable, and those who despised him feared his power. In New York he had come to occupy something of the position formerly accorded to Napoleon III by the public opinion of Europe.

[Footnote 1275: Hoffman over Woodford, 33,096. James S. Graham, Labor Reform candidate, received 1,907 votes, and Myron H. Clark, Temperance candidate, 1,459 votes. Assembly, 65 Democrats to 63 Republicans; Senate, 17 Democrats to 14 Republicans. Hall's majority, 23,811. Hoffman's majority in New York City, 52,037, being 16,000 less than in 1868. Appleton's Cyclopædia, 1870, p. 547.]

Tweed's legislative achievements, increasing in boldness, climaxed in the session of 1871 by the passage of the Acts to widen Broadway and construct the Viaduct Railroad. The latter company had power to grade streets, to sell five millions of its stock to the municipality, and to have its property exempted from taxation,[1276] while the Broadway swindle, estimated to cost the city between fifty and sixty millions,[1277] enabled members of the Ring to enrich themselves in the purchase of real estate. To pass these measures Tweed required the entire Democratic vote, so that when one member resigned to avoid expulsion for having assaulted a colleague,[1278] he found it necessary to purchase a Republican to break the deadlock. The character of Republican assemblymen had materially changed for the better, and the belief obtained that "none would be brazen enough to take the risk of selling out;"[1279] but an offer of seventy-five thousand dollars secured the needed vote.[1280] Thus did the power of evil seem more strongly intrenched than ever.

[Footnote 1276: Myers, History of Tammany, p. 276.]

[Footnote 1277: Myers, History of Tammany, p. 276.]

[Footnote 1278: Without provocation James Irving of New York assaulted Smith M. Weed of Clinton.]

[Footnote 1279: New York Tribune, April 14, 1871.]

[Footnote 1280: "Winans was unfortunate in his bargain, for after rendering the service agreed upon Tweed gave him only one-tenth of the sum promised." Myers' History of Tammany Hall, p. 277. It might be added that Winans' wife left him, and that the contempt of his neighbours drove him from home. A rumour that he subsequently committed suicide remains unverified.]

Meanwhile the constant and unsparing denunciation of the New York Times, coupled with Nast's cartoons in Harper's Weekly, excited increasing attention to the Ring. As early as 1869 Nast began satirising the partnership of Tweed, Sweeny, Connolly, and Hall, and in 1870 the Times opened its battery with an energy and sureness of aim that greatly disturbed the conspirators. To silence its suggestive and relentless attacks Tweed sought to bribe its editor, making an offer of one million dollars.[1281] A little later he sent word to Nast that he could have half a million.[1282] Failing in these attempts the Ring, in November, 1870, secured an indorsement from Marshall O. Roberts, Moses Taylor, John Jacob Astor, and three others of like position, that the financial affairs of the city, as shown by the comptroller's books, were administered correctly. It subsequently transpired that some of these men were associated with Tweed in the notorious Viaduct job,[1283] but for the time their certificate re-established the Ring's credit more firmly than ever. "There is absolutely nothing in the city," said the Times, "which is beyond the reach of the insatiable gang who have obtained possession of it."[1284]

[Footnote 1281: Paine, Life of Nast, p. 153.]

[Footnote 1282: Ibid., p. 182.]

[Footnote 1283: Paine, Life of Nast, p. 145.]

[Footnote 1284: February 24, 1871.]

While Roberts and his associates were certifying to the correctness of Connolly's books, William Copeland, a clerk in the office, was making a transcript of the Ring's fraudulent disbursements. Copeland was a protégé of ex-sheriff James O'Brien, who had quarrelled with Connolly because the latter refused to allow his exorbitant bills, and with the Copeland transcript he tried to extort the money from Tweed. Failing in this he offered the evidence to the Times. A little later the same journal obtained a transcript of fraudulent armoury accounts through Matthew J. O'Rourke, a county bookkeeper. When knowledge of the Times' possessions reached the Ring, Connolly offered George Jones, the proprietor, five million dollars to keep silent. "I cannot consider your proposition," said Jones.[1285]

[Footnote 1285: Harper's Weekly, February 22, 1890; Paine, Life of Nast, p. 170.]

The Times' publication of the armoury expenses furnished by O'Rourke created a sensation, but the excitement over the Copeland evidence grew into a fierce tempest. These figures, carefully tabulated and printed in large type, showed that the new courthouse, incomplete and miserably furnished, involved a steal of $8,000,000. One plasterer received $38,187 for two days' work. Another, during a part of two months, drew nearly $1,000,000. A carpenter received $350,000 for a month's labour. A single item of stationery aggregated $186,495, while forty chairs and three tables cost $179,729. In supplying aldermen with carriages, mostly for funerals, two liverymen earned $50,000 in a few days. Advertising in city newspapers amounted to $2,703,308. Carpets purchased at five dollars per yard would cover City Hall Park three times over. As these disclosures appeared in successive issues the people realised that a gang of very common thieves had been at work. It was a favourite method to refuse payment for want of money until a claimant, weary of waiting, accepted the suggestion of Connolly's agent to increase the amount of his bill. This turned an honest man into a conspirator and gave the Ring the benefit of the raise.[1286]

[Footnote 1286: New York Times, July 21, 1871.]

On September 4, 1871, a mass meeting of indignant citizens, held in Cooper Union, created the Committee of Seventy, and charged it with the conduct of investigations and prosecutions. Before it could act vouchers and cancelled warrants, covering the courthouse work for 1869 and 1870, had been stolen from the comptroller's office.[1287] This increased the excitement. At last Connolly, to escape becoming a scape-goat, appointed Andrew H. Green deputy comptroller, and the Governor designated Charles O'Conor to act in behalf of the Attorney-General. Thus the Committee of Seventy passed into complete control of the situation, and under the pressure of suits and arrests the Ring rapidly lost its power and finally its existence. On October 26, 1871, Tweed was arrested and held to bail in the sum of $1,000,000, Jay Gould becoming his chief bondsman. Soon after Sweeny retired from the Board of Park Commissioners, Connolly resigned as comptroller, and Tweed gave up the offices of grand sachem of Tammany, director of the Erie Railway, and commissioner of public works. Of all his associates Mayor Hall alone continued in office, serving until the end of 1872, the close of his term.[1288]

[Footnote 1287: Subsequently the charred remains of these accounts were discovered in an ash-heap in the City Hall attic. Myers, History of Tammany Hall, p. 387.]

[Footnote 1288: Hall was indicted and tried, but the jury disagreed. The second grand jury did not indict.]

Having anticipated a little it may not be improper to anticipate a little more, and say what became of other members of this historic Ring. When the public prosecutor began his work Sweeny and Connolly fled to Europe.[1289] After one mistrial, Tweed, found guilty on fifty-one counts, was sent to prison for twelve years on Blackwell's Island, but at the end of a year the Court of Appeals reversed the sentence, holding it cumulative. Being immediately rearrested Tweed, in default of bail fixed at $3,000,000, remained in jail until his escape in December, 1875. Disguised by cutting his beard and wearing a wig and gold spectacles, he concealed his whereabouts for nearly a year, going to Florida in a schooner, thence to Cuba in a fishing smack, and finally to Spain, where he was recognised and returned to New York on a United States man-of-war. He re-entered confinement on November 23, 1876, and died friendless and moneyless in Ludlow Street jail on April 12, 1878.

[Footnote 1289: Sweeny afterwards compromised for $400,000 and returned to New York. Connolly, who was reported to have taken away $6,000,000, died abroad.]

Meantime the Legislature of 1871 had ordered the impeachment of Barnard and Cardozo of the Supreme Court, and McCunn of the Superior Court. Their offences extended beyond the sphere of Tweed's operations, indicating the greed of a Sweeny and the disregard of all honorable obligations. Cardozo, the most infamous of the trio, called the Machiavelli of the Bench, weakened under investigation and resigned to avoid dismissal. Barnard and McCunn, being summarily removed, were forever disqualified from holding any office of trust in the State. McCunn died three days after sentence, while Barnard, although living for seven years, went to his grave at the early age of fifty.

The aggregate of the Ring's gigantic swindles is known only approximately. Henry F. Taintor, the auditor employed by Andrew H. Green, estimated it between forty-five and fifty millions; an Aldermanic committee placed it at sixty millions; and Matthew J. O'Rourke, after thorough study, fixed it at seventy-five millions, adding that if his report had included the vast issues of fraudulent bonds, the swindling by franchises and favours granted, and peculation by blackmail and extortion, the grand total would aggregate two hundred millions. Of the entire sum stolen only $876,000 were recovered.[1290]

[Footnote 1290: Myers, History of Tammany Hall, pp. 297-298; New York Herald, January 13, 1901.]

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XX. CONKLING PUNISHES GREELEY

1871

"It were idle," said Horace Greeley, soon after the election in November, 1870, "to trace the genealogy of the feud which has divided Republicans into what are of late designated Fenton and Conkling men. Suffice it that the fatal distraction exists and works inevitable disaster. More effort was made in our last State convention to triumph over Senator Fenton than to defeat Governor Hoffman, and in selecting candidates for our State ticket the question of Fenton and anti-Fenton was more regarded by many than the nomination of strong and popular candidates. Since then every Fenton man who holds a federal office has felt of his neck each morning to be sure that his head was still attached to his shoulders."[1291]

[Footnote 1291: New York Tribune, November 10, 1870.]

Conkling's effort to obtain control of the State Committee provoked this threnody. Subsequently, without the slightest warning, Fenton's naval officer, general appraiser, and pension agent were removed.[1292] But as the year grew older it became apparent that designs more fatal in their consequences than removals from office threatened the Fenton organisation. It was not a secret that the Governor had kept his control largely through the management of politicians, entitled "Tammany Republicans," of whom "Hank" Smith, as he was familiarly called, represented an active type. Smith was a member of the Republican State committee and of the Republican general city committee. He was also a county supervisor and a Tweed police commissioner. Moreover, he was the very model of a resourceful leader, acute and energetic, strong and unyielding, and utterly without timidity in politics. In supporting Fenton he appointed Republicans to city offices, took care of those discharged from the custom-house, and used the police and other instruments of power as freely as Thomas Murphy created vacancies and made appointments.[1293] In his despotic sway he had shown little regard for opposition leaders and none whatever for minorities, until at last a faction of the general city committee, of which Horace Greeley was then chairman, petitioned the State committee for a reorganisation. So long as Fenton controlled State conventions and State committees, Smith's iron rule easily suppressed such seceders; but when the State committee revealed a majority of Conkling men, with Cornell as chairman, these malcontents found ready listeners and active sympathisers.

[Footnote 1292: Ibid., April 4, 1871.]

[Footnote 1293: "Mr. Murphy's 'weeding out' process is exactly the one which the devil would use if he were appointed collector of this port, and that he would perform it on exactly the same principles and with the same objects and results as Mr. Murphy performs it, we challenge any one to deny who is familiar with the devil's character and habits and Mr. Murphy's late doings."--The Nation, January 19, 1871.

"No collector was ever more destitute of fit qualifications for the office." He made "three hundred and thirty-eight removals every five days during the eighteen months" he held office. Report of D.B. Eaton, chairman of the Civil Service Commission, p. 23.]

Alonzo B. Cornell, then thirty-nine years old, had already entered upon his famous career. From the time he began life as a boy of fifteen in an Erie Railroad telegraph office, he had achieved phenomenal success in business. His talents as an organiser easily opened the way. He became manager of the Western Union telegraph lines, the promoter of a steamboat company for Lake Cayuga, and the director of a national bank at Ithaca. Indeed, he forged ahead so rapidly that soon after leaving the employ of the Western Union, Jay Gould charged him with manipulating a "blind pool" in telegraph stocks.[1294] His education and experience also made him an expert in political manipulation, until, in 1868, he shone as the Republican candidate for lieutenant-governor. After his defeat and Grant's election, he became surveyor of the port of New York, a supporter of Conkling, and the champion of a second term for the President. His silence, deepened by cold, dull eyes, justified the title of "Sphinx," while his massive head, with bulging brows, indicated intellectual and executive power. He was not an educated man. Passing at an early age from his studies at Ithaca Academy into business no time was left him, if the disposition had been his, to specialise any branch of political economic science. He could talk of politics and the rapid growth of American industries, but the better government of great cities and the need of reform in the national life found little if any place among his activities. In fact, his close identification with the organisation had robbed him of the character that belongs to men of political independence, until the public came to regard him only an office-holder who owed his position to the favour of a chief whom he loyally served.

[Footnote 1294: Stephen Fiske, Off-Hand Portraits, p. 58.]

Very naturally the scheme of the malcontents attracted Cornell, who advised Horace Greeley that after careful and patient consideration the State Committee,[1295] by a vote of 20 to 8, had decided upon an entire reorganisation of his committee. Cornell further declared that if their action was without precedent so was the existing state of political affairs in the city, since never before in the history of the party had the general committee divided into two factions of nearly equal numbers, one ordering primaries for the election of a new committee, and the other calling upon the State committee to direct an entire reorganisation. However, he continued, abundant precedent existed for the arbitrary reorganisation of assembly, district, and ward committees by county committees. Since the State committee bore the same official relation to county committees that those committees sustained to local organisations within their jurisdiction, it had sufficient authority to act in the present crisis.[1296]

[Footnote 1295: "Mr. Conkling had already had much to do with the appointment of this committee, but it is worthy of note that several changes in the federal offices were made almost simultaneously with the vote of the committee for Mr. Murphy's reorganisation, and that the men who voted for it got the best places. Addison H. Laflin was made naval officer, Lockwood L. Doty was made pension agent, Richard Crowley was made United States attorney for the Northern District. It will be seen that the committee were not disinterested in trying to please Conkling and Murphy."--New York Evening Post, September 29, 1871.]

[Footnote 1296: New York Times, March 11, 1871.]

Conscious of the motive inspiring Cornell's action, Greeley replied that the State committee was the creature of State conventions, delegated with certain powers confined to the interval of time between such conventions. It executed its annual functions and expired. When contesting delegations from rival general committees had presented themselves in 1868, the State convention, rather than intrust the reorganisation to the State committee, appointed a special committee for the purpose, and when, in 1869, that committee made its report, the State convention resolved that the general committee of 1870 should thereafter be the regular and the only organisation. Nor was that all. When a resolution was introduced in the State convention of 1870 to give the State committee power to interfere with the general committee, the convention frowned and peremptorily dismissed it. Neither did the State committee, Greeley continued, take anything by analogy. County committees had never assumed to dissolve or reorganise assembly or district committees, nor had the power ever been conceded them, since assembly and district committees were paramount to county committees. But aside from this the general committee had other and greater powers than those of county committees, for the State convention in 1863, in 1866, and again in 1869 ordered that Republican electors in each city and assembly district should be enrolled into associations, delegates from each of which composed the general committee. No such power was conceded to county committees.[1297]

[Footnote 1297: New York Tribune, March 3 and May 2, 1871.]

Although this statement seemed to negative its jurisdiction to interfere, the State committee, exposing the real reason for its action, based its right to proceed on the existence of improper practices, claiming that certain officers and members of the Greeley and district committees held positions in city departments under the control of Tammany, and that when members of Republican associations were discharged from federal offices by reason of Democratic affiliations, they were promptly appointed to places under Democratic officials.[1298] To this the Greeley committee replied that Republicans holding municipal offices did so under a custom growing out of mixed commissions of Republicans and Democrats, which divided certain places between the two parties--a custom as old as the party itself, and one that had received the sanction of its best men. Indeed, it continued, George Opdyke, a member of the State committee, had himself, when mayor, appointed well-known Democrats on condition that Republicans should share the minor offices,[1299] and a Republican governor and Senate, in placing a Tammany official at the head of the street-cleaning department, invoked the same principle of division.[1300] Several members of the State committee had themselves, until recently, held profitable places by reason of such an understanding without thought of their party fealty being questioned. It was a recognition of the rights of the minority. As to the wisdom of such a policy the committee did not express an opinion, but it suggested that if members of the general committee or of district associations, holding such city places, should be charged with party infidelity, prompt expulsion would follow proof of guilt. It declared itself as anxious to maintain party purity and fidelity as the State committee, and for the purpose of investigating all charges it appointed a sub-committee.[1301]

[Footnote 1298: New York Times, January 26.]

[Footnote 1299: New York Tribune, September 8.]

[Footnote 1300: New York Times, February 3.]

[Footnote 1301: New York Times, Feb. 3, 1871.]

It was manifest from the first, however, that no investigation, no purging of the rolls, no compromise would avail. The charge had gone forth that "Tammany Republicans" controlled the Greeley committee, and in reply to the demand for specifications the State committee accused Henry Smith and others with using Tammany's police, taking orders from Sweeny, and participating in Ring enterprises to the detriment of the Republican party.[1302] "These men," said the Times, "are receiving the devil's pay, and consequently, it is to be presumed, are doing the devil's work. Republicans under Tammany cannot serve two masters. A Republican has a right to serve Tweed if he chooses. But he ought not at the same time to be taken into the confidence of Republicans who wage war against Tammany for debasing the bench, the bar, and every channel of political life."[1303]

[Footnote 1302: Ibid., Jan. 7, 12, 25.]

[Footnote 1303: Ibid., Jan. 25.]

To articles of this character Greeley replied that the Republicanism of Cornell and Smith did not differ. They had graced the same ticket; they had gone harmonious members of the same delegation to the last State convention; and they were fellow members of the State committee, created by that convention, Smith being aided thither by Cornell's vote.[1304] In the presence of such evidence the Fenton faction declared that there was neither soundness nor sincerity in the Times' statements or in the State committee's charges. Nevertheless, it was known then and publicly charged afterward that, although thoroughly honest himself, Greeley had long been associated with the most selfish politicians in the State outside of Murphy and the Tammany Ring.[1305] Thus the accusation against "Tammany Republicans" became a taking cry, since the feeling generally obtained that it was quite impossible for a man to perform service for Tweed and be a faithful Republican. Formerly the question had assumed less importance, but Tammany, identified with fraudulent government, a corrupt judiciary, and a dishonest application of money, could no longer be treated as a political organisation. Its leaders were thieves, it was argued, and a Republican entering their service must also be corrupt. In his letter to John A. Griswold, Conkling openly charged the Greeley committee with being corrupted and controlled by Tammany money.[1306]

[Footnote 1304: New York Tribune, September 15, 1871.]

[Footnote 1305: The Nation, May 9, 1872.]

[Footnote 1306: New York Tribune, September 4, 1871.]

The controversy, bitter enough before, became still more bitter now. Conscious that all was lost if the State committee succeeded, the Greeley organisation, by a vote of 99 to 1, declined to be reorganised. "The determination of the State committee to dissolve the regular Republican organisation of the city of New York and to create another, without cause and without power," it said, "is an act unprecedented in its nature, without justification, incompatible with the principles and life of the Republican party, and altogether an act of usurpation, unmitigated by either policy or necessity."[1307] Greeley alone appeared willing to yield. He offered a resolution, which, while describing the State committee's order as an injustice and a wrong, agreed to obey it; but an adverse majority of 91 to 9 showed that his associates interpreted his real feelings.[1308]

[Footnote 1307: New York Times, April 7, 1871.]

[Footnote 1308: Ibid.]

Thus the break had come. It was not an unusual event for the general city committee to quarrel. For many years Republican contentions in the metropolis had occupied the attention of the party throughout the State. In fact a State convention had scarcely met without being wearied with them. But everything now conspired to make the spirit of faction unrelenting and to draw the line sharply between friend and foe. The removal of Grinnell, the declaration of Greeley against Grant's renomination,[1309] the intense bitterness between Conkling and Fenton, and the boast of the State committee that it would control the State convention and substitute its own creature for the Greeley committee, all coalesced against harmony and a compromise.

[Footnote 1309: New York Tribune, May 6, September 15, 1871.]

Moreover, even the appearance of relations between Greeley and Conkling had ceased. "Mr. Conkling's frenzy," said the Tribune, "generally comes on during executive session, when, if we may be allowed the metaphor, he gets upon stilts and supports his dignity.... We can see the pose of that majestic figure, the sweep of that bolt-hurling arm, the cold and awful gleam of that senatorial eye, as he towers above the listening legislators." It spoke of him as the "Pet of the Petticoats," the "Apollo of the Senate," the "darling of the ladies' gallery," who "could look hyacinthine in just thirty seconds after the appearance of a woman." Then it took a shot at the Senator's self-appreciation. "No one can approach him, if anybody can approach him, without being conscious that there is something great about Conkling. Conkling himself is conscious of it. He walks in a nimbus of it. If Moses' name had been Conkling when he descended from the Mount, and the Jews had asked him what he saw there, he would promptly have replied, 'Conkling!' It is a little difficult to see why Mr. Conkling did not gain a reputation during the war. Many men took advantage of it for the display of heroic qualities. But this was not Conkling's opportunity. Is he a man to make a reputation while his country is in danger? He was not. Probably he knew best when to hitch his dogcart to a star. Such a man could afford to wait. Wrapped in the mantle of his own great opinion of himself, he could afford to let his great genius prey upon itself until the fulness of time."[1310] Of course, after this there could be no relations between the editor and the senator. These editorials recalled the Blaine episode, and although not so steeped in bitterness, as a character-study they did not differ from the prototype.

[Footnote 1310: New York Tribune (editorials), May 19, 20, 25, 1871.]

This was the condition of affairs when the Republican convention met at Syracuse on September 27. Except Greeley every prominent leader in the State attended. The question whether the rival general committee created by the State organisation should be recognised involved the whole party, and the audience assembled surpassed any previous attendance. The presence of a multitude of federal officials as delegates and leaders indicated that the Administration at Washington also took a deep interest. There was much doubt and solicitude as to the result, for no opportunity had been given the factions to measure strength since the convention of 1870. The nomination of a minority candidate for speaker of the Assembly in the preceding January had been claimed as a Fenton victory, but the selection of James W. Husted, then at the threshold of a long and conspicuous career, did not turn on such a hinge. Husted had strength of his own. Although never to become an orator of great power and genuine inspiration, his quickness of perception, coupled with the manners of an accomplished gentleman, brilliant in conversation and formidable in debate, made him a popular favourite whose strength extended beyond faction. Now, however, the issue was sharply drawn, and when Alonzo B. Cornell called the convention to order, the opposing forces, marshalled for a fight to the finish, announced Andrew D. White and Chauncey M. Depew as their respective candidates for temporary chairman. White's recent appointment as a commissioner to San Domingo had been a distinct gain to the President's scheme of annexation, and he now appeared at the convention in obedience to Cornell's solicitation.[1311] To gain a bit of advantage Depew, in the interest of harmony, he said, withdrew in favour of G. Hilton Scribner of Westchester, who had headed a young men's association formed to allay strife between the rival senators. The suggestion being accepted, Depew then moved to make Scribner and White temporary and permanent chairmen. Upon the temporary chairman depended the character of the committees, and Cornell, with a frown upon his large, sallow, cleanly shaven face, promptly ruled the motion out of order. When a Fenton delegate appealed from the Chair's ruling, he refused to put the question.

[Footnote 1311: White, Autobiography, Vol. 1, p. 164.]

Instantly the convention was upon its feet. Demands for roll-call and the shouts of a hundred men stifled the work of the gavel. Police interference increased the noise. In the midst of the confusion the stentorian voice of John Cochrane, a Fenton delegate, declared "the roll entirely wrong."[1312] This aggravated the situation. Finally, when delegates and chairman had physically exhausted themselves, Waldo M. Hutchins was allowed to suggest that in all cases of contested seats the names of delegates be passed. To this Cornell reluctantly agreed amidst loud applause from the Fenton faction, which desired its action interpreted as an unselfish concession in the interest of harmony; but the tremendous surprise subsequently displayed upon the announcement of White's election by 188 to 159 revealed its insincerity. It had confidently counted on twenty-one additional votes, or a majority of thirteen.[1313] Thus, in a moment, were brightest hopes and fairest prospects blasted.

[Footnote 1312: New York Tribune, September 28, 1871.]

[Footnote 1313: "In particular they [the Fenton men] felt sure of one vote not received from Allegany County, two from Broome, three from Columbia, two from Cortlandt, three from Dutchess, three from Jefferson, one from Ontario, three from Washington, and three from Wayne."--Ibid.

"Mr. Murphy's office-holders were numerous and active, and turned the whole organisation into an instrument for the service of his [Conkling's] personal ambition. When the State convention was to meet, Mr. Conkling and Mr. Murphy were among the first at Syracuse. It was remarked that while they worked hard, they took no thought of the reform movement. Their sole object was to control the convention. The confidence which the delegates placed in them was astonishing, but more astonishing still was the manner in which Andrew D. White lent himself to this faction and did its work."--New York Evening Post, September 29, 1871.]

It was easy to speculate as to the cause of this overthrow. To declare it the triumph of patronage; to assert that delegates from Republican strongholds supported Fenton and that others from counties with overwhelming Democratic majorities sustained Conkling; to stigmatise the conduct of Cornell as an unprecedented exhibition of tyranny, and to charge White with seeking the votes of Fenton members on the plea that his action would promote harmony,[1314] probably did not economise the truth. Explanations, however, could not relieve the anguish of defeat or nerve the weak to greater effort. Many delegates, filled with apprehension and anxious to be on the winning side, thought annihilation more likely than any sincere and friendly understanding, a suspicion that White's committee appointments quickly ratified. Although the Fenton faction comprised nearly one-half the convention, the Committee on Credentials stood 12 to 2 in favour of Conkling. Of course the famous president of Cornell University did not select this committee. He simply followed custom and fathered the list of names Cornell handed him.[1315] "But in blindly consenting to be thus used by the State committee," wrote Greeley, "he became the instrument of such an outrage as no respectable presiding officer of any prominent deliberative body has ever committed."[1316]

[Footnote 1314: "Mr. White personally sought the votes of Fenton members for the temporary chairmanship on the pledge that he would so act as to promote harmony."--New York Tribune, October 21, 1871.]

[Footnote 1315: "I received the list of the convention committees from the State committee with express assurance that the list represented fairly the two wings of the party. I had no reason then, and have no reason now, to believe that the State committee abused my confidence."--White, Autobiography, Vol. 1, p. 166.]

[Footnote 1316: New York Tribune, September 29, 1871.]

To the Fenton faction this severe criticism of a presumably fair man seemed justified after his jug-handle committee had made its jug-handle report. It favoured seating all contesting delegates outside of the City, admitted the Greeley delegates and their opponents with the right to cast half of one vote, and recognised the organisation established by the State committee as the regular and the only one. By this time the dullest delegate understood the trend of affairs. Indeed, dismissals and appointments in the civil service had preceded the assembling of the convention until politicians understood that the way to preferment opened only to those obedient to the new dictator. Accordingly, on the next roll-call, the weak-kneed took flight, the vote standing 202 to 116. Upon hearing the astounding result a Fenton delegate exclaimed, "Blessed are they that expect nothing, for they shall not be disappointed."[1317]

[Footnote 1317: New York Tribune, September 28, 1871.]

In discussing the resolution to abolish the Greeley committee the question narrowed itself to members holding office under Tammany, the Greeley organisation maintaining that it had simply inherited the custom, not created it, while Cornell and his associates, having "Hank" Smith in mind, declared it impossible to avoid the custom without destroying the committee. To some of the Conkling leaders this seemed unnecessarily severe. Having showed their teeth they hesitated to lacerate the party, especially after the mad rush to the winning side had given them an overwhelming majority. At last, it fell to Hamilton Ward, a friend of the Senator, for six years a member of Congress, a forcible speaker, and still a young man of nerve, who was to become attorney-general and a judge of the Supreme Court, to propose as a substitute that the State committee be directed to consolidate and perfect the two city organisations. The Fenton people promptly acquiesced, and their opponents, after eliminating Smith by disallowing a member of the organisation to hold office under Tammany, cheerfully accepted it.

This compromise, thus harmoniously perfected in the presence and hearing of the convention, was loudly applauded, and the chairman had risen to put the motion when Conkling interrupted, "Not yet the question, Mr. President!" Until then the Senator had been a silent spectator. Indeed, not until the previous roll-call did he become a member of the convention. But he was now to become its master. His slow, measured utterances and deep chest-tones commanded instant attention. If for a moment, as he calmly declared opposition to the substitute, he seemed to stand alone, his declaration that a horde of Tammany ballot-box stuffers, pirates, and robbers had controlled and debauched the Republican organisation in the city of New York called forth the loudest applause of the evening. His next statement, that the time had come when such encroachments must cease, renewed the cheering. Having thus paid his respects to the Greeley committee, Conkling argued that a new State committee could not do in the four weeks preceding election what it had taken the old committee months to accomplish. The campaign must be made not with a divided organisation, but with ranks closed up. Reading from an editorial in the Tribune, he claimed that it approved the committee's report, and he begged the convention to take the editor at his word, shake hands, bury animosities and disappointments, make up a ticket equally of both factions, and accept the reorganisation of the city committee, so that double delegations might not appear at the next national convention to parade their dissensions. He disclaimed any unkind feeling, and in favouring the admission of both city delegations, he said, he supposed he had worked in the interest of harmony.

This appeal has been called one of Conkling's "most remarkable speeches."[1318] Unlike the Senator's usual efforts laboured preparation did not precede it. The striking passage and the impressive phrase are entirely wanting. Epigrammatic utterances are the supreme test of a great orator or poet, but Conkling's speech of September 27 added nothing to that vocabulary. It may be said to lack every element of a well-ordered oration. As preserved in the newspapers of the day[1319] it is hard, if not impossible, to find sufficient rhetorical merit to entitle it to a place in any volume of ordinary addresses. It wanted the persuasive power that allures by an exquisite choice of words, or charms by noble and sympathetic elocution. Even the style of his appeal for harmony was too self-assured and his faith in his own superiority too evident. Nevertheless, of the living who heard his explosive exclamation, "Not yet the question, Mr. President," and the flaming sentences arraigning the Greeley Republicans as partners of Tammany, it lingers in the memory as a forceful philippic, full of pose and gesture and dramatic action. Its influence, however, is not so clear. The power of patronage had already twice carried the convention, and that this incentive would have done so again had Conkling simply whispered to his lieutenants, must be evident to all who read the story. Ward's motion was lost by 154 to 194, the Conkling vote being eight less than on the preceding roll-call.[1320]

[Footnote 1318: "Such a speech, in its terms, its forcible eloquence, its overwhelming results, was perhaps never heard in a similar assemblage. Many of Senator Conkling's friends insist that this was one of his most remarkable speeches."--Alfred R. Conkling, Life of Roscoe Conkling, p. 341.]

[Footnote 1319: Syracuse Standard, New York Times, September 28, 1871.]

[Footnote 1320: "Just as the whole convention had agreed upon the compromise, Conkling arose and ordered his office-holders to reject it."--New York Evening Post, September 29.]

Conkling desired a solid delegation at the next Republican National Convention, and the recognition of the organisation established by the State committee assured it, whereas the Ward amendment, by including the Greeley constituency, inspired the fear of a divided one.[1321] Perhaps the failure of his friends to appreciate this fear justified Conkling's interference, but a single word of dissent was sufficient to alarm them, while a less arrogant and dominating spirit might easily have avoided making the bitter assault which provoked a storm of hostile criticism. Greeley's stinging retort illuminated the Senator's insincerity. "Conkling declared it right," said the editor, "to abolish the regular organisation because corrupted and controlled by Tammany money, and then invited its delegates to an equal share in making the platform and selecting a ticket. If he believed what he said, he was guilty of party treason in the offer; if he did not, he added the folly of insult to the crime of foul slander."[1322] This was the view of the Greeley delegates, and refusing to accept the offered terms, Moses H. Grinnell, Marshall O. Roberts, and their associates, amid ironical cheers, withdrew from the convention.

[Footnote 1321: New York Tribune, June 1, 1871.]

[Footnote 1322: New York Tribune, September 29, 1871.]

After this business progressed smoothly and easily. There were no divisions, no debates, and no questions of importance. Nominations aroused little enthusiasm,[1323] and the platform which Greeley called "the miracle of clumsiness,"[1324] indorsed the administration of President Grant, denounced the crimes of the Tweed ring, and recommended local option. Meanwhile the seceders, assembled in Wild's Opera House, gave vent to bitter criticism and the whispered scandal of hotel lobbies.[1325] When this proceeding finally ended they separated with the consciousness that their last performance, at least, had made them ridiculous.

[Footnote 1323: The State ticket was as follows: Secretary of State, G. Hilton Scribner, Westchester; Comptroller, Nelson K. Hopkins, Erie; Treasurer, Thomas Raines, Monroe; Attorney-General, Francis C. Barlow, New York; Engineer, William B. Taylor, Oneida; Canal Commissioner, Alexander Barkley, Washington; Prison Inspector, Thomas Kirkpatrick, Cayuga.]

[Footnote 1324: New York Tribune, September 29, 1871.]

[Footnote 1325: Ibid.]

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XXI. TILDEN CRUSHES TAMMANY

1871

While Conkling was disposing of Greeley and the Fenton organisation, Samuel J. Tilden prepared to crush Tammany. Tweed had reason to fear Tilden. In 1869 he accused the Ring of being "opposed to all good government."[1326] Afterward, in 1870, the defeat of the Young Democracy's charter added to his bitterness. On the evening of the day on which that vote occurred, Tweed jeered Tilden as the latter passed through the hotel corridor, while Tilden, trembling with suppressed emotion, expressed the belief that the Boss would close his career in jail or in exile.[1327] One wonders that Tilden, being a natural detective, should have delayed strenuous action until the Times' exposure, but when, at last, a knowledge of the colossal frauds suddenly opened the way to successful battle, he seized the advantage with the skill and persistency of a master.

[Footnote 1326: Paine, Life of Nast, p. 194.]

[Footnote 1327: This remark was addressed to Henry Richmond, whose father, Dean Richmond, died in Tilden's home in Gramercy Park. Richmond succeeded his father as State committeeman.]

In his crusade he did not unite with Republicans, for whom he had no liking. He was not only an intense partisan, but he had a positive genius for saying bitter things in the bitterest way. To him the quarter of a century covered by Van Buren, Marcy, and Wright, shone as an era of honour and truth, while the twenty-four years spanned by the Republicans and the party from whence they sprung brought shame and disgrace upon the State. "The Republicans made the morals of the legislative bodies what they have recently become. When Seward and Weed took the place of Wright, Marcy, and Flagg, public and official morality fell in the twinkling of an eye. Even our city government, until 1870, was exactly what a Republican legislature made it. The league between corrupt Republicans and corrupt Democrats, which was formed during Republican ascendency, proved too strong for honest men. The charter of 1870 which I denounced in a public speech, had the votes of nearly all the Republicans and Democrats."[1328] Still, he admitted that Tammany was synonymous with Democracy, and that its corruption, especially since its blighting influence had become so notorious and oppressive, impeded and dishonoured the party. Under its rule primaries had been absurdities and elections a farce. Without being thoroughly reorganised, therefore, the party, in his opinion, could not exist.[1329]

[Footnote 1328: Tilden's letter to the Democracy, dated September 11, 1871.--New York Tribune, September 22, 1871.]

[Footnote 1329: Tilden's interview.--Ibid., Sept 23.]

In this spirit Tilden entered upon the great work of his life. Two classes of Democrats faced him--the more clamorous reformers and the enemies of all reform. To the latter reorganisation seemed a reckless step. It argued that the loss of the Tammany vote meant the dissolution of the party, and that a great organisation ought not to be destroyed for the wrong of a few individuals, since the party was not responsible for them. Besides, the executive power of the State, with its vast official patronage scattered throughout all the counties, would oppose such a policy. On the other hand, the first class, possessing little faith in the party's ability to purge itself, threatened to turn reform into political revolution. It desired a new party. Nevertheless, Tilden did not hesitate. He issued letters to thousands of Democrats, declaring that "wherever the gangrene of corruption has reached the Democratic party we must take a knife and cut it out by the roots;"[1330] he counselled with Horatio Seymour and Charles O'Conor; he originated the movement that ultimately sent a reform delegation to the State convention; he consented to stand for the Assembly; and finally, to secure the fruit of three months' work, he raised one-half the funds expended by the Democratic reform organisation.

[Footnote 1330: Tilden's letter, Ibid., Sept. 22.]

The Ring had not been an indifferent observer of these efforts. While it cared little for the control of a State convention without a governor to nominate, its continued existence absolutely depended upon a majority in the Senate. Tweed planned to carry the five senatorial districts in the city, and to re-elect if possible the eight Republican senators whom he had used the year before.[1331] This would insure him control. To achieve his purpose word was sent to Tilden early in August that he could name the delegates to the State convention and the candidates upon the State ticket if he would not interfere with Tammany's legislative nominations. If Tilden had not before distrusted Tweed, such a proposition must have aroused his suspicion. But Tilden, conscious of the need of an anti-Tweed legislature, had surmised the Ring's plan as early as Tweed devised it, and he replied with firmness that everything beside the legislative ticket was of minor importance to him. Similar propositions, presented by powerful men from all parts of the State with the plea that a compromise would "save the party," received the same answer.[1332] Meanwhile, he laboured to shorten the life of the Ring. To him Richard Connolly appealed for protection against Tweed's treachery, and at Tilden's suggestion the comptroller turned over his office to Andrew H. Green, thus assuring the protection of the records which subsequently formed the basis of all civil and criminal actions. Tilden's sagacity in procuring the opinion of Charles O'Conor also secured the Mayor's acquiescence in Green's possession of the office, while his patient investigation of the Broadway Bank accounts discovered the judicial proofs that opened the prison doors.

[Footnote 1331: Tilden's Speech.--New York Times, November 3, 1871.]

[Footnote 1332: Tweed's Speech.--Ibid.]

These were fatal blows to the Ring. The leading Democratic papers of the interior, notably the Buffalo Courier and Albany Argus, came boldly out demanding the dismissal of the shameless robbers who were disgracing the name and destroying the future of their party. Moreover, Tilden, like an avenging angel, with all the skill and knowledge of his kind, had united into one great reform party the four Democratic organisations of the city, pledged to oppose Tammany.[1333] This formidable combination, having complied with every requirement of the State committee, selected delegates to the State convention. The hearts of Tweed and his associates may well have sunk within them as they studied this list. There were able lawyers like William E. Curtis; powerful merchants like Havermeyer; influential editors like Ottendorfer; solid business men like Schell; and determined members of the Committee of Seventy like Roswell D. Hatch, who had been conspicuous in tracking the thieves. But the name that must have shone most formidably in the eyes of Tweed was that of Charles O'Conor. It stood at the head of the list like a threatening cloud in the sky, ready to bring ruin upon the Ring. The moral support of his great legal fame, affirming the validity of Andrew H. Green's possession of the comptroller's office, had intimidated O'Gorman, Tweed's corporation counsel, and shattered the plot to forcibly eject Tilden's faithful friend under colour of judicial process. Thus the reform party seemed to be in the ascendant. With confidence Tilden expressed the belief that the State convention would repudiate Tammany.[1334]

[Footnote 1333: The German Democratic General Committee, with 30,000 votes; the Democratic Union, with 27,000; the Ledwith party, with 10,000; and the Young Democracy, led by ex-Sheriff O'Brien. For five years Mozart Hall, under Fernando Wood, had not placed a ticket in the field.]

[Footnote 1334: Interview, New York Tribune, September 23, 1871.]

Although it had become well known that Tilden would not compromise, Tweed lost none of his former prestige. His control of the State convention which assembled at Rochester on October 4 (1871) seemed as firm as on that day in 1870 when he renominated John T. Hoffman. It was still the fashion to praise all he said and all he did. Before his arrival the Reformers claimed a majority, but as the up-State delegates crowded his rooms to bend the obsequious knee he reduced these claims to a count, finding only forty-two disobedient members. He was too tactful, however, to appear in the convention hall. His duty was to give orders, and like a soldier he pitched his headquarters near the scene of action, boasting that his friends were everywhere ready for battle.

In his opening speech Tilden touched the Ring frauds with the delicacy of a surgeon examining an abscess, and the faint response that greeted his condemnation of corruption satisfied him that the convention did not appreciate the danger of party blood-poisoning. The truth of this diagnosis more fully appeared when Tammany, "in the interest of harmony," waived its right to participate in the proceedings. The whirlwind of applause which greeted this "unselfish act" had scarcely subsided when a delegate from Kings county, acting for Tweed, moved the previous question on a resolution reciting that hereafter, on the call of the roll, the city of New York be omitted since it presented no delegation bearing the prestige of regularity. This threw the Reformers into an animated counsel. They knew of the proposed withdrawal of Tammany, which seemed to them to smooth the way for the acceptance of their credentials, but the resolution came with startling suddenness. It narrowed the question of their admission to a mere technicality and cut off debate. Tilden, appreciating the ambuscade into which he had fallen, exhausted every expedient to modify the parliamentary situation, knowing it to be in the power of the convention to accept another delegation regardless of its regularity, as the Republicans had done at Syracuse in the previous week. But the delegates derisively laughed at his awkward predicament as they adopted the resolution by a vote of 90 to 4.

By this act the convention clearly indicated its purpose to treat the fraud issue as a local matter and to keep it out of the State campaign. It intended to denounce the crime and the criminals, and to allow no one to become a delegate who had aided or in anywise profited by the conspiracy, but it would not recognise a delegation which desired to reorganise the party in the metropolis by humiliating a great association whose regularity had been accepted for many years, and which had finally turned the State over to the Democracy. This view had the support of every office-holder and of every appointee of the Executive, whose great desire to "save the party" had its inspiration in a greater desire to save themselves. On the other hand, the minority argued that allowing Tammany voluntarily to withdraw from the convention was equivalent to its endorsement, thus giving its nominations regularity. This would compel the Democratic masses, in order to participate in the primaries, to vote its ticket. Tilden sought to avoid this regularity just as Conkling had destroyed the Greeley committee, and if office-holders had supported him as they did the Senator he must have won as easily.

The convention's treatment of Horatio Seymour also exhibited its dislike of the reformer. Seymour came to the convention to be its president, and upon his entrance to the hall had been hailed, amidst tumultuous cheers, as "Our future president in 1872." While waiting the conclusion of the preliminary proceedings he observed Francis Kernan sitting outside the rail with the rejected Reformers. Hesitatingly, and in the hope, he said, of arousing no unpleasant discussion, he moved the admission of the veteran Democrat, whom he described as grown gray in the party harness, and whose very presence was a sufficient credential to his title to a seat. Kernan, being in sympathy with Tilden, was non persona grata to Tammany, and Seymour had scarcely resumed his seat when the ubiquitous delegate from Kings, with a flourish of rhetoric, promptly substituted another, who, he alleged, was the regularly elected delegate as well as "the friend of that great Democrat, John T. Hoffman." The convention, frantic with delight at the mention of the Governor's name, saw the Oneidan grow lividly pale with chagrin at this exhibition of Tammany's manners. Seymour had lived long in years, in fame, and in the esteem of his party. He could hardly have had any personal enemies. He possessed no capricious dislikes, and his kindly heart, in spite of a stateliness of bearing, won all the people who came near him. To be thus opposed and bantered in a Democratic assembly was a deep humiliation, and after expressing the hope that the Tammany man would fight for the Democratic party as gallantly in future as he had fought against it in the past, the illustrious statesman withdrew his motion. When, later, his name was announced as presiding officer of the permanent organisation, the convention discovered to its dismay that Seymour, feigning sickness, had returned to Utica.[1335]

[Footnote 1335: "Governor Seymour was given to understand that he could not be president of the convention unless he would forego his philippic against the Tammany thieves. This he declined to do."--New York Times (editorial), October 9, 1871.]

At the end of the day's work it was plain that Tweed had controlled the convention. The Reformers had been excluded, the committee on contested seats had refused them a hearing, Seymour was driven home, and a eulogy of Tammany's political services had been applauded to the echo. The platform did, indeed, express indignation at the "corruption and extravagance recently brought to light in the municipal affairs of the city of New York," and condemned "as unworthy of countenance or toleration all who are responsible," but the contrast between the acts of the convention and the words of its platform made its professions of indignation seem incongruous if not absolutely empty. When one speaker, with rhetorical effect, pronounced the frauds in New York "the mere dreams of Republican imagination" delegates sprang to their feet amidst ringing cheers. In the joy of victory, Tweed, with good-natured contempt, characterised Seymour, Tilden, and Kernan as "three troublesome old fools."[1336]

[Footnote 1336: New York Tribune, October 6, 1871.]

After adjournment the Reformers made no concealment of their bitter dissatisfaction. Oswald Ottendorfer, editor of the most powerful German Democratic organ then in the State, threatened to issue an address denouncing their betrayal, and William E. Curtis, referring to the refusal of the credentials' committee, declared that a voice from the Democratic masses of New York, seeking relief from a gang of thieves, was stronger, higher, and more sublime than mere questions of technicality. Under the spur of this threatened revolt, the convention, when it reconvened the next day, listened to the Reformers. Their recital was not a panegyric. Ottendorfer said that the operation of the previous question exposed the party to the suspicion that Tammany's seats would be open for their return after the storm of indignation had subsided. O'Conor, in a letter, declared that absolute freedom from all complicity in the great official crime and an utter intolerance of all persons suspected of sympathy with it must be maintained, otherwise its action would inflict a fatal wound upon the party. Curtis characterised the question as one of life or death to a great community weighed down by oppression and crime, and maintained that the convention, if it sought to avoid its duty by the subterfuge already enacted, would show both sympathy and complicity with the oligarchy of terror and infamy. These statements did not please the Ring men, who, with much noise, passed contemptuously out of the hall.

Riotous interruption, however, did not begin until Tilden announced that the real point of the controversy was to estop Tammany, after nominating five senators and twenty-one assemblymen, from declaring the Democratic masses out of the party because they refused to vote for its candidates. The whip of party regularity was Tweed's last reliance, and when Tilden proclaimed absolution to those who disregarded it, the friends of Tammany drowned his words with loud calls to order. The excitement threatened to become a riot, but Tilden, caring as little for disapprobation as the son of Tisander in the story told by Herodotus, calmly awaited silence. "I was stating," he continued, without the slightest tremor of a singularly unmusical voice, "what I considered the objection to Tammany Hall, aside from the cloud that now covers that concern, and I am free to avow before this convention that I shall not vote for any one of Mr. Tweed's members of the Legislature. And if that is to be regarded the regular ticket, I will resign my place as chairman of the State committee and help my people stem the tide of corruption. When I come to do my duty as an elector, I shall cast my vote for honest men."[1337] Then, to show his independence if not his contempt of the Tweed-bound body, Tilden suddenly waived aside the question of the Reformers' admission and moved to proceed to the nomination of a State ticket.[1338]

[Footnote 1337: New York Tribune, October 6, 1871.]

[Footnote 1338: Except the candidate for Secretary of State, the old Tweed ticket was renominated as follows: Secretary of State, Diedrich Willers, Seneca; Comptroller, Asher P. Nichols, Erie; Treasurer, Wheeler H. Bristol, Tioga; Attorney-General, Marshall B. Champlain, Allegany; Engineer, Van R. Richmond, Wayne; Canal Commissioner, George W. Chapman; Prison Inspector, David B. McNeil, Cayuga.]

The convention was stunned. It became dizzy when he denied Tammany's right to be regarded as the regular organisation, but his proclamation, defiantly and clearly made, that hereafter he should bolt its nominations even if the convention refused to impeach its regularity, struck a trenchant blow that silenced rather than excited. Such courage, displayed at such a critical moment, was sublime. An organised revolt against an association which had for years been accepted as regular by State conventions meant the sacrifice of a majority and an invitation to certain defeat, yet he hurled the words of defiance into the face of the convention with the energy of the Old Guard when called upon to surrender at Waterloo. The course taken by Tilden on this memorable occasion made his own career, and also a new career for his party. From that hour he became the real leader of the Democracy. Although more than a twelvemonth must pass before his voice gave the word of command, his genius as a born master was recognised.

The attitude of the Reformers strengthened the Republicans, whose distractions must otherwise have compassed their defeat. Murphyism and Tweedism resembled each other so much that a contest against either presented a well-defined issue of political morality. The greater importance of the Tammany frauds, however, obscured all other issues. To preserve their organisation in the up-State counties the Democrats made creditable local nominations and professed support of the State ticket, but in the city the entire voting population, irrespective of former party alignments, divided into Tammany and anti-Tammany factions. As the crusade progressed the details of the great crime, becoming better understood, made Tammany's position intolerable. Every respectable journal opposed it and every organisation crucified it. In a double-page cartoon, startling in its conception and splendidly picturesque, Nast represented the Tammany tiger, with glaring eyes and distended jaws, tearing the vitals from the crushed and robbed city, while Tweed and his associates sat enthroned.[1339] "Let's stop those damned pictures," proposed Tweed when he saw it. "I don't care so much what the papers write about me--my constituents can't read; but they can see pictures."[1340]

[Footnote 1339: Harper's Weekly, November 4, 1871.]

[Footnote 1340: Paine, Life of Nast, p. 179.]

On October 26 all doubt as to the result of the election was dissipated. Until then belief in Tweed's direct profit in the Ring's overcharges was based upon presumption. No intelligent man having an accurate knowledge of the facts could doubt his guilt, since every circumstance plainly pointed to it, but judicial proof did not exist until furnished by the investigation of the Broadway Bank, which Tilden personally conducted. His analysis of this information disclosed the fact that two-thirds of the money paid under the sanction of the Board of Audit had passed into the possession of public officials and their accomplices, some of it being actually traced into Tweed's pocket, and upon this evidence, verified by Tilden's affidavit, the Attorney-General based an action on which a warrant issued for Tweed's arrest. This announcement flashed over the State eleven days before the election. It was a powerful campaign document. People had not realised what an avenging hand pursued Tammany, but they now understood that Tweed was a common thief, and that Tilden, by reducing strong suspicion to a mathematical certainty, had closed the mouths of eulogists and apologists.

The result of the election carried dismay and confusion to Tammany. Its register, its judges, its aldermen, a majority of its assistant aldermen, fourteen of its twenty-one assemblymen, and four of its five senators were defeated, while Tweed's majority fell from 22,000 in 1869 to 10,000. As expected the Republicans reaped the benefit of the anti-Tammany vote, carrying the State by 18,000 majority and the Legislature by 79 on joint ballot.[1341] To obliterate Tweedism, Tilden had overthrown his party, but he had not fallen, Samson-like, under the ruin.

[Footnote 1341: Scribner, 387,107; Willers, 368,204. Legislature: Senate, 24 Republicans, 8 Democrats. Assembly, 97 Republicans, 31 Democrats.--New York Tribune, November 27, 1871.

Compared with the returns for 1870, the Democratic vote, outside of New York and the six counties in its immediate vicinity, fell off 24,167, while the Republican vote fell off 9,235. In New York and adjoining counties the Republican vote increased 30,338.--Ibid.

In New York City the majority for the Democratic candidate for secretary of state was 29,189, while the majority for the Republican or Union Reform candidate for register was 28,117.--Ibid.]

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