XIX. SEWARD'S BID FOR THE PRESIDENCY…

XIX. SEWARD'S BID FOR THE PRESIDENCY

1859-1860

The elections in 1858 simplified the political situation. With the exception of Pennsylvania, where the tariff question played a conspicuous part, all the Northern States had disapproved President Buchanan's Lecompton policy, and the people, save the old-line Whigs, the Abolitionists, and the Americans, had placed themselves under the leadership of Seward, Lincoln, and Douglas, who now clearly represented the political sentiments of the North. If any hope still lingered among the Democrats of New York, that the sectional division of their party might be healed, it must have been quickly shattered by the fierce debates over popular sovereignty and the African slave-trade which occurred in the United States Senate in February, 1859, between Jefferson Davis, representing the slave power of the South, and Stephen A. Douglas, the recognised champion of his party in the free States.

Under these circumstances, the Democratic national convention, called to meet in Charleston, South Carolina, on April 23, 1860, became the centre of interest in the state convention, which met at Syracuse on the 14th of September, 1859. Each faction desired to control the national delegation. As usual, Daniel S. Dickinson was a candidate for the Presidency. He believed his friends in the South would prefer him to Douglas if he could command an unbroken New York delegation, and, with the hope of having the delegates selected by districts as the surer road to success, he flirted with Fernando Wood until the latter's perfidy turned his ear to the siren song of the Softs, who promised him a solid delegation whenever it could secure his nomination. Dickinson listened with distrust. He was the last of the old leaders of the Hards. Seymour and Marcy had left them; but "Scripture Dick," as he was called, because of his many Bible quotations, stood resolutely and arrogantly at his post, defying the machinations of his opponents with merciless criticism. The Binghamton Stalwart did not belong in the first rank of statesmen. He was neither an orator nor a tactful party leader. It cannot be said of him that he was a quick-witted, incisive, and successful debater;[504] but, on critical days, when the fate of his faction hung in the balance, he was a valiant fighter, absolutely without fear, who took blows as bravely as he gave them, and was loyal to all the interests which he espoused. He now dreaded the Softs bearing gifts. But their evident frankness and his supreme need melted the estrangement that had long existed between them.

[Footnote 504: "'Scripture Dick,' whom we used to consider the sorriest of slow jokers, has really brightened up."--New York Tribune, March 17, 1859.]

In the selection of delegates to the state convention Fernando Wood and Tammany had a severe struggle. Tammany won, but Wood appeared at Syracuse with a full delegation, and for half an hour before the convention convened Wood endeavoured to do by force what he knew could not be accomplished by votes. He had brought with him a company of roughs, headed by John C. Heenan, "the Benicia Boy," and fifteen minutes before the appointed hour, in the absence of a majority of the delegates, he organised the convention, electing his own chairman and appointing his own committees. When the bulk of the Softs arrived they proceeded to elect their chairman. This was the signal for a riot, in the course of which the chairman of the regulars was knocked down and an intimidating display of pistols exhibited. Finally the regulars adjourned, leaving the hall to the Wood contestants, who completed their organisation, and, after renominating the Democratic state officers elected in 1857, adjourned without day.

Immediately, the regulars reappeared; and as the Hards from the up-state counties answered to the roll call, the Softs vociferously applauded. Then Dickinson made a characteristic speech. He did not fully decide to join the Softs until Fernando Wood had sacrificed the only chance of overthrowing them; but when he did go over, he burned the bridges behind him. The Softs were delighted with Dickinson's bearing and Dickinson's speech. It united the party throughout the State and put Tammany in easy control of New York City.

With harmony restored there was little for the convention to do except to renominate the state officers, appoint delegates to the Charleston convention who were instructed to vote as a unit, and adopt the platform. These resolutions indorsed the administration of President Buchanan; approved popular sovereignty; condemned the "irrepressible conflict" speech of Seward as a "revolutionary threat" aimed at republican institutions; and opposed the enlargement of the Erie canal to a depth of seven feet.

The Republican state convention had previously assembled on September 7 and selected a ticket, equally divided between men of Democratic and Whig antecedents, headed by Elias W. Leavenworth for secretary of state. Great confidence was felt in its election until the Americans met in convention on September 22 and indorsed five of its candidates and four Democrats. This, however, did not abate Republican activity, and, in the end, six of the nine Republican nominees were elected. The weight of the combined opposition, directed against Leavenworth, caused his defeat by less than fifteen hundred, showing that Republicans were gradually absorbing all the anti-slavery elements.

Upon what theory the American party nominated an eclectic ticket did not appear, although the belief obtained that it hoped to cloud Seward's presidential prospects by creating the impression that the Senator was unable, without assistance, to carry his own State on the eve of a great national contest. But whatever the reason, the result deeply humiliated the party, since its voting strength, reduced to less than 21,000, proved insufficient to do more than expose the weakness. This was the last appearance of the American party. It had endeavoured to extend its life and increase its influence; but after its refusal to interdict slavery in the territories it rapidly melted away. Henry Wilson, senator and Vice President, declared that he would give ten years of his life if he could blot out his membership in the Know-Nothing party, since it associated him throughout his long and attractive public career with proscriptive principles of which he was ashamed.

In the midst of the campaign the country was startled by John Brown's raid at Harper's Ferry. For two years Brown had lived an uneventful life in New York on land in the Adirondack region given him by Gerrit Smith. In 1851, he moved to Ohio, and from thence to Kansas, where he became known as John Brown of Osawatomie. He had been a consistent enemy of slavery, working the underground railroad and sympathising with every scheme for the rescue of slaves; but once in Kansas, he readily learned the use of a Sharpe's rifle. In revenge for the destruction of Lawrence, he deliberately massacred the pro-slavery settlers living along Pottawatomie creek. "Without the shedding of blood there is no remission of sins," was a favourite text. His activity made him a national character. The President offered $250 for his arrest and the governor of Missouri added $3000 more. In 1858, he returned East, collected money to aid an insurrection among the slaves of Virginia, and on October 17, 1859, with eighteen men, began his quixotic campaign by cutting telegraph wires, stopping trains, and seizing the national armory at Harper's Ferry. At one time he had taken sixty prisoners.

The affair was soon over, but not until the entire band was killed or captured. Brown, severely hurt, stood between two of his sons, one dead and the other mortally wounded, refusing to surrender so long as he could fight. After his capture, he said, coolly, in reply to a question: "We are Abolitionists from the North, come to release and take your slaves."

The trial, conviction, and execution of Brown and his captured companions ended the episode, but its influence was destined to be far-reaching. John Brown became idealised. His bearing as he stood between his dead and dying sons, his truth-telling answers, and the evidence of his absolute unselfishness filled many people in the North with a profound respect for the passion that had driven him on, while his bold invasion of a slave State and his reckless disregard of life and property alarmed the South into the sincere belief that his methods differed only in degree from the teachings of those who talked of an irrepressible conflict and a higher law. To aid him in regaining his lost position in the South, Stephen A. Douglas proclaimed it as his "firm and deliberate belief that the Harper Ferry crime was the natural, logical, and inevitable result of the doctrine and teachings of the Republican party."[505]

[Footnote 505: Congressional Globe, 36th Cong., 1st Sess., pp. 553-4 (January 23, 1860).]

The sentimentalists of the North generally sympathised with Brown. Emerson spoke of him as "that new saint awaiting his martyrdom, and who, if he shall suffer, will make the gallows glorious like the cross."[506] In the same spirit Thoreau called him "an angel of light," and Longfellow wrote in his diary on the day of the execution: "The date of a new revolution, quite as much needed as the old one."[507] But the Republican leaders deprecated the affair, characterising it as "among the gravest of crimes," and denying that it had any relation to their party except as it influenced the minds of all men for or against slavery.

[Footnote 506: James E. Cabot, Life of Emerson, p. 597.]

[Footnote 507: Samuel Longfellow, Life of Longfellow, Vol. 2, p. 347.]

William H. Seward was in Europe at the time of the raid. Early in May, 1859, his friends had celebrated his departure from New York, escorting him to Sandy Hook, and leaving him finally amidst shouts and music, bells and whistles, and the waving of hats and handkerchiefs. Such a scene is common enough nowadays, but then it was unique. His return at the close of December, after an absence of eight months, was the occasion of great rejoicing. A salute of a hundred guns was fired in City Hall Park, the mayor and common council tendered him a public reception, and after hours of speech-making and hand-shaking he proceeded slowly homeward amidst waiting crowds at every station. At Auburn the streets were decorated, and the people, regardless of creed or party, escorted him in procession to his home. Few Republicans in New York had any doubt at that moment of his nomination and election to the Presidency.

On going to Washington Seward found the United States Senate investigating the Harper's Ferry affair and the House of Representatives deadlocked over the election of a speaker. Bitterness and threats of disunion characterised the proceeding at both ends of the Capitol. "This Union," said one congressman, "great and powerful as it is, can be tumbled down by the act of any one Southern State. If Florida withdraws, the federal government would not dare attack her. If it did, the bands would dissolve as if melted by lightning."[508] Referring to the possibility of the election of a Republican President, another declared that "We will never submit to the inauguration of a Black Republican President. You may elect Seward to be President of the North; but of the South, never! Whenever a President is elected by a fanatical majority of the North, those whom I represent are ready, let the consequences be what they may, to fall back on their reserved rights, and say, 'As to this Union we have no longer any lot or part in it.'"[509]

[Footnote 508: F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, p. 441.]

[Footnote 509: Ibid., p. 442.]

In the midst of these fiery, disunion utterances, on the 21st of February, 1860, Seward introduced a bill for the admission of Kansas into the Union. After the overwhelming defeat of the Lecompton Constitution, the free-state men had controlled the territorial legislature, repealed the slave code of 1855, and, in the summer of 1859, convened a constitutional convention at Wyandotte. A few weeks later the people ratified the result of its work by a large majority. It was this Wyandotte Constitution under which Seward proposed to admit Kansas, and he fixed the consideration of his measure for the 29th of February. This would be two days after Abraham Lincoln had spoken in New York City.

Lincoln, whose fame had made rapid strides in the West since his debate with Douglas in 1858, had been anxious to visit New York. It was the home of Seward, the centre of Republican strength, and to him practically an unknown land. Through the invitation of the Young Men's Central Republican Union he was now to lecture at Cooper Institute on the 27th of February. It was arranged at first that he speak in Henry Ward Beecher's church, but the change, relieving him from too close association with the great apostle of abolition, opened a wider door for his reception. Personally he was known to very few people in the city or State. In 1848, on his way to New England to take the stump, he had called upon Thurlow Weed at Albany, and together they visited Millard Fillmore, then candidate for Vice President; but the meeting made such a slight impression upon the editor of the Evening Journal that he had entirely forgotten it. Thirty years before, in one of his journeys to Illinois, William Cullen Bryant had met him. Lincoln was then a tall, awkward lad, the captain of a militia company in the Black Hawk War, whose racy and original conversation attracted the young poet; but Bryant, too, had forgotten him, and it was long after the famous debate that he identified his prairie acquaintance as the opponent of Douglas. Lincoln, however, did not come as a stranger. His encounter with the great Illinoisan had marked him as a powerful and logical reasoner whose speeches embraced every political issue of the day and cleared up every doubtful point. Well-informed people everywhere knew of him. He was not yet a national character, but he had a national reputation.

Though Lincoln's lecture was one of a course, the admission fee did not restrain an eager audience from filling the commodious hall. "Since the day of Clay and Webster," said the Tribune, "no man has spoken to a larger assemblage of the intellect and mental culture of our city."[510] Bryant acted as chairman of the meeting, and other well-known men of the city occupied the stage. In his Life of Lincoln, Herndon suggests that the new suit of clothes which seemed so fine in his Springfield home was in such awkward contrast with the neatly fitting dress of the New Yorkers that it disconcerted him, and the brilliant audience dazzled and embarrassed him; but his hearers thought only of the pregnant matter of the discourse, so calmly and logically discussed that Horace Greeley, years afterward, pronounced it "the very best political address to which I ever listened, and I have heard some of Webster's grandest."[511]

[Footnote 510: New York Tribune, February 28, 1860.]

[Footnote 511: Century Magazine, July, 1891, p. 373. An address of Greeley written in 1868.]

Lincoln had carefully prepared for the occasion. He came East to show what manner of man he was, and while he evidenced deep moral feeling which kept his audience in a glow, he combined with it rare political sagacity, notably in omitting the "house divided against itself" declaration. He argued that the Republican party was not revolutionary, but conservative, since it maintained the doctrine of the fathers who held and acted upon the opinion that Congress had the power to prohibit slavery in the territories. "Some of you," he said, addressing himself to the Southern people, "are for reviving the foreign slave trade; some for Congress forbidding the territories to prohibit slavery within their limits; some for maintaining slavery in the territories through the judiciary; some for the 'great principle' that if one man would enslave another, no third man should object, fantastically called popular sovereignty; but never a man among you is in favour of federal prohibition of slavery in federal territories, according to the practice of our fathers who formed the government under which we live. You say we have made the slavery question more prominent than it formerly was. We deny it. We admit that it is more prominent, but we deny that we made it so. It was not we, but you who discarded the old policy of the fathers." Of Southern threats of disunion, he said: "Your purpose, then, plainly stated, is that you will destroy the government unless you be allowed to construe and enforce the Constitution as you please on all points in dispute between you and us. You will rule or ruin in all events." Referring to the Harper's Ferry episode, he said: "That affair in its philosophy corresponds with the many attempts related in history at the assassination of kings and emperors. An enthusiast broods over the oppression of a people, until he fancies himself commissioned by heaven to liberate them. He ventures the attempt which ends in little else than his own execution."

Lincoln's lecture did not disappoint. He had entertained and interested the vast assemblage, which frequently rang with cheers and shouts of applause as the gestures and the mirth-provoking look emphasised the racy hits that punctuated the address. "No man," said the Tribune, "ever before made such an impression on his first appeal to a New York audience. He is one of Nature's orators."[512]

[Footnote 512: New York Tribune, March 1, 1860.]

Two days later, Seward addressed the United States Senate. There is no evidence that he fixed this date because of the Cooper Institute lecture. The gravity of the political situation demanded some expression from him; but the knowledge of the time of Lincoln's speech gave him ample opportunity to arrange to follow it with one of his own, if he wished to have the last word, or to institute a comparison of their respective views on the eve of the national convention. However this may be, Seward regarded his utterances on this occasion of the utmost importance. He was the special object of Southern vituperation. A "Fire-Eater" of the South publicly advertised that he would be one of one hundred "gentlemen" to give twenty-five dollars each for the heads of Horace Greeley, Henry Ward Beecher, and forty other prominent Northern leaders in and out of Congress, but for the head of Seward his proposed subscription was multiplied twenty fold. It is noticeable that in this long list of "traitors" the name of Abraham Lincoln does not appear. It was Seward whom the South expected the Republican party would nominate for President, and in him it saw the narrow-minded, selfish, obstinate Abolitionist who hated them as intensely as they despised him. To dispossess the Southern mind of this feeling the Auburn statesman now endeavoured to show that if elected President he would not treat the South unfriendly.

Seward's speech bears evidence of careful preparation. It was not only read to friends for criticism, but Henry B. Stanton, in his Random Recollections, says that Seward, before the day of its delivery, assisted him in describing such a scene in the Senate as he desired laid before the public. On his return to Washington, Seward had not been received with a show of friendship by his associates from the South. It was remarked that while Republican senators greeted him warmly, "his Southern friends were afraid to be seen talking to him." On the occasion of his speech, however, he wished the record to show every senator in his place and deeply interested.

Visitors to the Senate on the 29th of February crowded every available spot in the galleries. "But it was on the floor itself," wrote Stanton to the Tribune, "that the most interesting spectacle presented itself. Every senator seemed to be in his seat. Hunter, Davis, Toombs, Mason, Slidell, Hammond, Clingman, Brown, and Benjamin paid closest attention to the speaker. Crittenden listened to every word. Douglas affected to be self-possessed; but his nervousness of mien gave token that the truths now uttered awakened memories of the Lecompton contest, when he, Seward, and Crittenden, the famous triumvirate, led the allies in their attack upon the Administration. The members of the House streamed over to the north wing of the Capitol almost in a body, leaving Reagan of Texas to discourse to empty benches, while Seward held his levee in the Senate."[513]

[Footnote 513: New York Tribune, March 1, 1860.]

Seward lacked the tones, the kindly eye, and the mirth-provoking look of Lincoln. His voice was husky, his manner didactic, and his physique unimposing, but he had the gift of expression, and the ability to formulate his opinions and marshal his facts in lucid sentences that harmonised with Northern sentiments and became at once the creed and rallying cry of his party; and, on this occasion, he held the Senate spellbound for two hours, the applause at one time becoming so long continued that the presiding officer threatened to clear the galleries. He was always calm and temperate. But it seemed now to be his desire, in language more subdued, perhaps, than he had ever used before, to allay the fears of what would happen should the Republican party succeed in electing a President; and, without the sacrifice of any principle, he endeavoured to outline the views of Republicans and the spirit that animated himself. There was nothing new in his speech. He avoided the higher law and irrepressible conflict doctrines, and omitted his former declarations that slavery "can and must be abolished, and you and I can and must do it." In like manner he failed to demand, as formerly, that the Supreme Court "recede from its spurious judgment" in the Dred Scott case. But he reviewed with the same logic that had characterised his utterances for twenty years, the relation of the Constitution to slavery; the influence of slavery upon both parties; the history of the Kansas controversy; and the manifest advantages of the Union, dwelling at length and with much originality upon the firm hold it had upon the people, and the certainty that it would survive the rudest shocks of faction. Of the Harper's Ferry affair, Seward spoke with more sympathy than Lincoln. "While generous and charitable natures will probably concede that John Brown acted on earnest, though fatally erroneous convictions," he said, "yet all good citizens will nevertheless agree that this attempt to execute an unlawful purpose in Virginia by invasion, involving servile war, was an act of sedition and treason, and criminal in just the extent that it affected the public peace and was destructive of human happiness and life."

It has been noted with increasing admiration that Lincoln and Seward, without consultation and in the presence of a great impending crisis, paralleled one another's views so closely. Each embodied the convictions and aspirations of his party. The spirit of an unsectarian patriotism that characterised Seward's speech proved highly satisfactory to the great mass of Republicans. The New York Times rejoiced that its tone indicated "a desire to allay and remove unfounded prejudice from the public mind," and pronounced "the whole tenor of it in direct contradiction to the sentiments which have been imputed to him on the strength of declarations which he has hitherto made."[514] Samuel Bowles of the Springfield Republican wrote Thurlow Weed that the state delegation--so "very marked" is the reaction in Seward's favour--would "be so strong for him as to be against anybody else," and that "I hear of ultra old Whigs in Boston who say they are ready to take him up on his recent speech."[515] Charles A. Dana, then managing editor of the Tribune, declared that "Seward stock is rising," and Salmon P. Chase admitted that "there seems to be at present a considerable set toward Seward." Nathaniel P. Banks, who was himself spoken of as a candidate, thought Seward's prospects greatly enhanced.

[Footnote 514: New York Times, March 2, 1860.]

[Footnote 515: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 260.]

But a growing and influential body of men in the Republican party severely criticised the speech because it lacked the moral earnestness of the "higher law" spirit. To them it seemed as if Seward had made a bid for the Presidency, and that the irrepressible conflict of 1858 was suddenly transformed into the condition of a mild and patient lover who is determined not to quarrel. "Differences of opinion, even on the subject of slavery," he said, "are with us political, not social or personal differences. There is not one disunionist or disloyalist among us all. We are altogether unconscious of any process of dissolution going on among us or around us. We have never been more patient, and never loved the representatives of other sections more than now. We bear the same testimony for the people around us here. We bear the same testimony for all the districts and States we represent."

This did not sound like the terrible "irrepressible conflict" pictured at Rochester. Wendell Phillips' famous epigram that "Seward makes a speech in Washington on the tactics of the Republican party, but phrases it to suit Wall street,"[516] voiced the sentiment of his critics. Garrison was not less severe. "The temptation which proved too powerful for Webster," he wrote, "is seducing Seward to take the same downward course."[517] Greeley did not vigorously combat this idea. "Governor Seward," he said, "has so long been stigmatised as a radical that those who now first study his inculcations carefully will be astonished to find him so eminently pacific and conservative. Future generations will be puzzled to comprehend how such sentiments as his, couched in the language of courtesy and suavity which no provocation can induce him to discard, should ever have been denounced as incendiary."[518]

[Footnote 516: New York Tribune, March 22, 1860.]

[Footnote 517: The Liberator, March 9, 1860.]

[Footnote 518: New York Tribune, March 2, 1860.]

No doubt much of this criticism was due to personal jealousy, or to the old prejudice against him as a Whig leader who had kept himself in accord with the changing tendencies of a progressive people, alternately exciting them with irrepressible conflicts and soothing them with sentences of conservative wisdom; but Bowles, in approving the speech because it had brought ultra old Whigs of Boston to Seward's support, exposed the real reason for the adverse criticism, since an address that would capture an old-line Whig, who indorsed Fillmore in 1856, could scarcely satisfy the type of Republicans who believed, with John A. Andrew, that whether the Harper's Ferry enterprise was wise or foolish, "John Brown himself is right." It is little wonder, perhaps, that these people began to doubt whether Seward had strong convictions.

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XX. DEAN RICHMOND'S LEADERSHIP AT CHARLESTON

1860

When the Democratic national convention opened at Charleston, South Carolina, on April 23, 1860, Fernando Wood insisted upon the admission of his delegation on equal terms with Tammany. The supreme question was the nomination of Stephen A. Douglas, and the closeness of the contest between the Douglas and anti-Douglas forces made New York's thirty-five votes most important. Wood promised his support, if admitted, to the anti-Douglas faction; the Softs, led by Dean Richmond, encouraged Douglas and whispered kindly words to the supporters of James Guthrie of Kentucky. It was apparent that Wood's delegation had no standing. It had been appointed before the legal hour for the convention's assembling in the absence of a majority of the delegates, and upon no theory could its regularity be accepted; but Wood, mild and bland in manner, made a favourable impression in Charleston. No one would have pointed him out in a group of gentlemen as the redoubtable mayor of New York City, who invented surprises, and, with a retinue of roughs, precipitated trouble in conventions. His adroit speeches, too, had won him advantage, and when he pledged himself to the ultra men of the South his admission became a necessary factor to their success. This, naturally, threw the Softs into the camp of Douglas, whose support made their admission possible.[519]

[Footnote 519: "The Fernando Wood movement was utterly overthrown in the preliminary stages. Several scenes in the fight were highly entertaining. Mr. Fisher of Virginia was picked out to make the onslaught, when John Cochrane of New York, who is the brains of the Cagger-Cassidy delegation, shut him off with a point of order."--M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 20.]

The New York delegation, composed of distinguished business men and adroit politicians, was divided into two factions, each one fancying itself the more truly patriotic, public-spirited, and independent.[520] The Softs had trapped the Hards into allegiance with the promise of a solid support for Dickinson whenever the convention manifested a disposition to rally around him--and then gagged them by a rigid unit rule. This made Dickinson declamatory and bitter, while the Softs themselves, professing devotion to Douglas, exhibited an unrest which indicated that changed conditions would easily change their devotion. Altogether, it was a disappointing delegation, distrusted by the Douglas men, feared by the South, and at odds with itself; yet, it is doubtful if the Empire State ever sent an abler body of men to a national convention. Its chairman, Dean Richmond, now at the height of his power, was a man of large and comprehensive vision, and, although sometimes charged with insincerity, his rise in politics had not been more rapid than his success in business. Before his majority he had become the director of a bank, and at the age of thirty-eight he had established himself in Buffalo as a prosperous dealer and shipper. Then, he aided in consolidating seven corporations into the New York Central Railroad--securing the necessary legislation for the purpose--and in 1853 had become its vice president. Eleven years later, and two years before his death, he became its president. In 1860, Dean Richmond was in his forty-seventh year, incapable of any meanness, yet adroit, shrewd, and skilful, stating very perfectly the judgment of a clear-headed and sound business man. As chairman of the Democratic state committee, he was a somewhat rugged but an intensely interesting personality, who had won deservedly by his work a foremost place among the most influential national leaders of the party. His opinion carried great weight, and, though he spoke seldom, his mind moved rapidly by a very simple and direct path to correct conclusions.[521]

[Footnote 520: "Many of New York's delegates were eminent men of business, anxious for peace; others were adroit politicians, adept at a trade and eager to hold the party together by any means."--James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 2, p. 474.]

[Footnote 521: "Though destitute of all literary furnishment, Richmond carried on his broad shoulders one of the clearest heads in the ranks of the Barnburners."--H.B. Stanton, Random Recollections, p. 183.]

Around Richmond were clustered August Belmont and Augustus Schell of New York City, Peter Cagger and Erastus Corning of Albany, David L. Seymour of Troy, Sanford E. Church of Albion, and a dozen others quite as well known. Perhaps none of them equalled the powerful Richardson of Illinois, who led the Douglas forces, or his brilliant lieutenant, Charles E. Stuart of Michigan, whose directions and suggestions on the floor of the convention, guided by an unerring knowledge of parliamentary law, were regarded with something of dread even by Caleb Cushing, the gifted president of the convention; but John Cochrane of New York City, who had attended Democratic state and national conventions for a quarter of a century, was quite able to represent the Empire State to its advantage on the floor or elsewhere. He was a man of a high order of ability, and an accomplished and forceful public speaker, whose sonorous voice, imposing manner, and skilful tactics made him at home in a parliamentary fight. "Cochrane is a large but not a big man," said a correspondent of the day, "full in the region of the vest, and wears his beard, which is coarse and sandy, trimmed short. His head is bald, and his countenance bold, and there are assurances in his complexion that he is a generous liver. He is a fair type of the fast man of intellect and culture, whose ambition is to figure in politics. He is in Congress and can command the ear of the House at any time. His great trouble is his Free-soil record. He took Free-soilism like a distemper and mounted the Buffalo platform. He is well over it now, however, with the exception of a single heresy--the homestead law. He is for giving homesteads to the actual settlers upon the public land."[522]

[Footnote 522: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 20.]

Douglas had a majority of the delegates in the Charleston convention. But, with the aid of California and Oregon, the South had seventeen of the thirty-three States. This gave it a majority of the committee on resolutions, and, after five anxious days of protracted and earnest debate, that committee reported a platform declaring it the duty of the federal government to protect slavery in the territories, and denying the power of a territory either to abolish slavery or to destroy the rights of property in slaves by any legislation whatever. The minority reaffirmed the Cincinnati platform of 1856, with the following preamble and resolution: "Inasmuch as differences of opinion exist in the Democratic party as to the nature and extent of the powers of a territorial legislature, and as to the powers and duties of Congress over the institution of slavery within the territories; Resolved, that the Democratic party will abide by the decisions of the Supreme Court on the questions of constitutional law."

It was quickly evident that the disagreement which had plunged the committee into trouble extended to the convention. The debate became hot and bitter. In a speech of remarkable power, William L. Yancey of Alabama upbraided the Northern delegates for truckling to the Free-soil spirit. "You acknowledged," he said, "that slavery did not exist by the law of nature or by the law of God--that it only existed by state law; that it was wrong, but that you were not to blame. That was your position, and it was wrong. If you had taken the position directly that slavery was right ... you would have triumphed. But you have gone down before the enemy so that they have put their foot upon your neck; you will go lower and lower still, unless you change front and change your tactics. When I was a schoolboy in the Northern States, abolitionists were pelted with rotten eggs. But now this band of abolitionists has spread and grown into three bands--the black Republican, the Free-soilers, and squatter sovereignty men--all representing the common sentiment that slavery is wrong."[523] Against this extreme Southern demand that Northern Democrats declare slavery right and its extension legitimate, Senator Pugh of Ohio vigorously protested. "Gentlemen of the South," he thundered, "you mistake us--you mistake us! we will not do it."[524]

[Footnote 523: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 48.]

[Footnote 524: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 50.]

The admission of the Softs and the adoption of a rule allowing individual delegates from uninstructed States to vote as they pleased had given the Douglas men an assured majority, and on the seventh day, when the substitution of the minority for the majority report by a vote of 165 to 138 threatened to culminate in the South's withdrawal, the Douglas leaders permitted a division of their report into its substantive propositions. Under this arrangement, the Cincinnati platform was reaffirmed by a vote of 237-1/2 to 65. The danger point had now been reached, and Edward Driggs of Brooklyn, scenting the brewing mischief, moved to table the balance of the report. Driggs favoured Douglas, but, in common with his delegation, he favoured a united party more, and could his motion have been carried at that moment with a show of unanimity, the subsequent secession might have been checked if not wholly avoided. The Douglas leaders, however, not yet sufficiently alarmed, thought the withdrawal of two or three Southern States might aid rather than hinder the nomination of their chief, and on this theory Driggs' motion was tabled. But, when Alabama, Arkansas, and Mississippi withdrew their votes, and nearly the entire South refused to express an opinion on the popular sovereignty plank, the extent of the secession suddenly flashed upon Richardson, who endeavoured to speak in the din of the wildest excitement. Richardson had withdrawn Douglas' name at the Cincinnati convention in 1856; and, thinking some way out of their present trouble might now be suggested by him, John Cochrane, in a voice as musical as it was far-reaching, urged the convention to hear one whom he believed brought another "peace offering;" but objection was made, and the roll call continued. Richardson's purpose, however, had not escaped the vigilant New Yorkers, who now retired for consultation. The question was, should they strike out the only resolution having the slightest significance in the minority report? By the time they had decided in the affirmative, and returned to the hall, the whole Douglas army was in full retreat, willing, finally, to stand solely upon the reaffirmation of the Cincinnati platform, where the Driggs motion would have landed them two hours earlier.

But the Douglas leaders were not yet satisfied. Writhing under their forced surrender, Stuart of Michigan took the floor, and by an inflammatory speech of the most offensive type started the stampede which the surrender of the Douglas platform was intended to avoid. Alabama led off, followed by Mississippi, Louisiana, South Carolina, Florida, Texas, and Arkansas. Glenn of Mississippi, pale with emotion, spoke the sentiments of the seceders. "Our going," he said, "is not conceived in passion or carried out from mere caprice or disappointment. It is the firm resolve of the great body we represent. The people of Mississippi ask, what is the construction of the platform of 1856? You of the North say it means one thing; we of the South another. They ask which is right and which is wrong? The North have maintained their position, but, while doing so, they have not acknowledged the rights of the South. We say, go your way and we will go ours. But the South leaves not like Hagar, driven into the wilderness, friendless and alone, for in sixty days you will find a united South standing shoulder to shoulder."[525]

[Footnote 525: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 66.]

This declaration, spoken with piercing emphasis, was received with the most enthusiastic applause that had thus far marked the proceedings of the convention. "The South Carolinians cheered long and loud," says an eye-witness, "and the tempest of shouts made the circuit of the galleries and the floor several times before it subsided. A large number of ladies favoured the secessionists with their sweetest smiles and with an occasional clapping of hands."[526]

[Footnote 526: Ibid., p. 68.]

All this was telling hard upon the New York delegation.[527] It wanted harmony more than Douglas. Dickinson aspired to bring Southern friends to his support,[528] while Dean Richmond was believed secretly to indulge the hope that ultimately Horatio Seymour might be nominated; and, under the plausible and patriotic guise of harmonising the party, the delegation had laboured hard to secure a compromise. It was shown that Douglas need not be nominated; that with the South present he could not receive a two-thirds majority; that with another candidate the Southern States would continue in control. It was known that a majority of the delegation stood ready even to vote for a conciliatory resolution, a mild slave code plank, declaring that all citizens of the United States have an equal right to settle, with their property, in the territories, and that under the Supreme Court's decisions neither rights of person nor property could be destroyed or impaired by congressional or territorial legislation. This was Richmond's last card. In playing it he took desperate chances, but he was tired of the strain of maintaining the leadership of one faction, and of avoiding a total disruption with the other.

[Footnote 527: "There was a Fourth of July feeling in Charleston that night--a jubilee. The public sentiment was overwhelmingly and enthusiastically in favour of the seceders. The Douglas men looked badly, as though they had been troubled with bad dreams. The disruption is too serious for them. They find themselves in the position of a semi-Free Soil sectional party, and the poor fellows take it hard. The ultra South sectionalists accuse them of cleaving unto heresies as bad as Sewardism."--M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 76.]

[Footnote 528: "Dickinson has ten votes in the New York delegation and no more."--New York Tribune's report from Charleston, April 24, 1860.]

To the Southern extremists, marshalled by Mason and Slidell, the platform was of secondary importance. They wanted to destroy Guthrie, a personal enemy of Slidell, as well as to defeat Douglas, and, although it was apparent that the latter could not secure a two-thirds majority, it was no less evident that the Douglas vote could nominate Guthrie. To break up this combination, therefore, the ultras saw no way open except to break up the convention on the question of a platform. This phase of the case left Richmond absolutely helpless. The secession of the cotton States might weaken Douglas, but it could in nowise aid the chances of a compromise candidate, since the latter, if nominated, must rely upon a large portion of the Douglas vote.

But Dean Richmond did not lose sight of his ultimate purpose. The secession left the convention with 253 out of 304 votes; and a motion requiring a candidate to obtain two-thirds of the original number became a test of devotion to Douglas, who hoped to get two-thirds of the remaining votes, but who could not, under any circumstances, receive two-thirds of the original number. As New York's vote was now decisive, it put the responsibility directly upon Richmond. It was his opportunity to help or to break Douglas. The claim that precedent required two-thirds of the electoral vote to nominate was rejected by Stuart as not having the sanction of logic. "Two-thirds of the vote given in this convention" was the language of the rule, he argued, and it could not mean two-thirds of all the votes originally in the convention. Cushing admitted that a rigid construction of the rule seemed to refer to the votes cast on the ballot in this convention, but "the chair is not of the opinion," he said, "that the words of the rule apply to the votes cast for the candidate, but to two-thirds of all the votes to be cast by the convention." This ruling in nowise influenced the solid delegations of Douglas' devoted followers from Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota; and if Richmond had been as loyal in his support, it was reasoned, New York would have followed the Northwestern States. But Cushing's ruling afforded Richmond a technical peg upon which to hang a reason for not deliberately and decisively cutting off the Empire State from the possibilities of a presidential nomination, and, apparently without any scruples whatever, he decided that the nominee must receive the equivalent of two-thirds of the electoral college.[529] After that vote one can no more think of Richmond or the majority of his delegation as inspired with devoted loyalty to Douglas. One delegate declared that it sounded like clods falling upon the Little Giant's coffin.[530]

[Footnote 529: "The drill of the New York delegation and its united vote created a murmur of applause at its steady and commanding front."--New York Tribune, June 19, 1860.]

[Footnote 530: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 85.]

Little enthusiasm developed over the naming of candidates. Six were placed in nomination--Douglas of Illinois, Guthrie of Kentucky, Hunter of Virginia, Andrew Johnson of Tennessee, Lane of Oregon, and Dickinson of New York. George W. Patrick of California named Dickinson, and on the first ballot he received two votes from Pennsylvania, one from Virginia, and four from California, while New York cast its thirty-five votes for Douglas with as much éclat as if it had not just made his nomination absolutely impossible.[531] The result gave Douglas 145-1/2 to 107-1/2 for all others, with 202 necessary to a choice. On the thirty-third ballot, Douglas, amidst some enthusiasm, reached 152-1/2 votes, equivalent to a majority of the electoral college; but, as the balloting proceeded, it became manifest that this was his limit, and on the ninth day motions to adjourn to New York or Baltimore in June became frequent. The fifty-seventh ballot, the last of the session, gave Douglas 151-1/2, Guthrie 65-1/2, Dickinson 4, and all others 31. Dickinson had flickered between half a vote and sixteen, with an average of five. Never perhaps in the history of political conventions did an ambitious candidate keep so far from the goal of success.

[Footnote 531: "After the vote of New York had decided that it was impossible to nominate Douglas, it proceeded, the roll of States being called, to vote for him as demurely as if it meant it."--M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 84.]

It was now apparent that the convention could not longer survive. The listless delegates, the absence of enthusiasm, and the uncrowded galleries, showed that all hope of a nomination was abandoned, especially since the friends of Douglas, who could prevent the selection of another, declared that the Illinoisan would not withdraw under any contingency. It is dreary reading, the record of the last three days. If any further evidence were needed to show the utter collapse of the dwindling, discouraged convention, the dejected, despairing appearance of Richardson, until now supported by a bright heroism and cheery good humour, would have furnished it. Accordingly, on the tenth day of the session, it was agreed to reassemble at Baltimore on Monday, June 18. Meantime the seceders had formed themselves into a convention, adopted the platform recently reported by the majority, and adjourned to meet at Richmond on the same day.

Bitter thoughts filled the home-going delegates. Douglas' Northwestern friends talked rancorously of the South; while, in their bitterness, Yancey and his followers exulted in the defeat of the Illinois Senator. "Men will be cutting one another's throats in a little while," said Alexander H. Stephens. "In less than twelve months we shall be in war, and that the bloodiest in history. Men seem to be utterly blinded to the future."[532]

[Footnote 532: James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 2, p. 453.]

"Do you not think matters may be adjusted at Baltimore?" asked R.M. Johnston. "Not the slightest chance of it," was the reply. "The party is split forever. Douglas will not retire from the stand he has taken. The only hope was at Charleston. If the party would be satisfied with the Cincinnati platform and would cordially nominate Douglas, we should carry the election; but I repeat to you that is impossible."[533]

[Footnote 533: Ibid., p. 455.]

Between the conventions the controversy moved to the floor of the United States Senate. "We claim protection for slavery in the territories," said Jefferson Davis, "first, because it is our right; secondly, because it is the duty of the general government."[534] In replying to Davis several days later, Douglas said: "My name never would have been presented at Charleston except for the attempt to proscribe me as a heretic, too unsound to be the chairman of a committee in this body, where I have held a seat for so many years without a suspicion resting on my political fidelity. I was forced to allow my name to go there in self-defence; and I will now say that had any gentleman, friend or foe, received a majority of that convention over me the lightning would have carried a message withdrawing my name."[535]

[Footnote 534: Ibid., p. 453.]

[Footnote 535: James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 2, p. 455.]

A few days afterward Davis referred to the matter again. "I have a declining respect for platforms," he said. "I would sooner have an honest man on any sort of a rickety platform you could construct than to have a man I did not trust on the best platform which could be made." This stung Douglas. "If the platform is not a matter of much consequence," he demanded, "why press that question to the disruption of the party? Why did you not tell us in the beginning of this debate that the whole fight was against the man and not upon the platform?"[536]

[Footnote 536: Ibid., p. 456.]

These personalities served to deepen the exasperation of the sections. The real strain was to come, and there was great need that cool heads and impersonal argument should prevail over misrepresentation and passion. But the coming event threw its shadow before it.

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XXI. SEWARD DEFEATED AT CHICAGO

1860

The Republican national convention met at Chicago on May 16. It was the prototype of the modern convention. In 1856, an ordinary hall in Philadelphia, with a seating capacity of two thousand, sufficed to accommodate delegates and spectators, but in 1860 the large building, called a "wigwam," specially erected for the occasion and capable of holding ten thousand, could not receive one-half the people seeking admission, while marching clubs, bands of music, and spacious headquarters for state delegations, marked the new order of things. As usual in later years, New York made an imposing demonstration. The friends of Seward took an entire hotel, and an organised, well-drilled body of men from New York City, under the lead of Tom Hyer, a noted pugilist, headed by a gaily uniformed band, paraded the streets amidst admiring crowds. For the first time, too, office-seekers were present in force at a Republican convention; and, to show their devotion, they packed hotel corridors and the convention hall itself with bodies of men who vociferously cheered every mention of their candidate's name. Such tactics are well understood and expected nowadays, but in 1860 they were unique.

The convention, consisting of 466 delegates, represented one southern, five border, and eighteen free States. "As long as conventions shall be held," wrote Horace Greeley, "I believe no abler, wiser, more unselfish body of delegates will ever be assembled than that which met at Chicago."[537] Governor Morgan, as chairman of the Republican national committee, called the convention to order, presenting David Wilmot, author of the famous proviso, for temporary chairman. George Ashmun of Massachusetts, the favourite friend of Webster, became permanent president. The platform, adopted by a unanimous vote on the second day, denounced the Harper's Ferry invasion "as among the gravest of crimes;" declared the doctrine of popular sovereignty "a deception and fraud;" condemned the attempt of President Buchanan to force the Lecompton Constitution upon Kansas; denied "the authority of Congress, of a territorial legislature, or of an individual to give legal existence to slavery in any territory;" demanded a liberal homestead law; and favoured a tariff "to encourage the development of the industrial interests of the whole country." The significant silence as to personal liberty bills, the Dred Scott decision, the fugitive slave law, and the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, evidenced the handiwork of practical men.

[Footnote 537: New York Tribune, June 2, 1860.]

Only one incident disclosed the enthusiasm of delegates for the doctrine which affirms the equality and defines the rights of man. Joshua E. Giddings sought to incorporate the sentiment that "all men are created free and equal," but the convention declined to accept it until the eloquence of George William Curtis carried it amidst deafening applause. It was not an easy triumph. Party leaders had preserved the platform from radical utterances; and, with one disapproving yell, the convention tabled the Giddings amendment. Instantly Curtis renewed the motion; and when it drowned his voice, he stood with folded arms and waited. At last, the chairman's gavel gave him another chance. In the calm, his musical voice, in tones that penetrated and thrilled, begged the representatives of the party of freedom "to think well before, upon the free prairies of the West, in the summer of 1860, you dare to shrink from repeating the words of the great men of 1776."[538] The audience, stirred by an unwonted emotion, applauded the sentiment, and then adopted the amendment with a shout more unanimous than had been the vote of disapproval.

[Footnote 538: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 137.]

The selection of a candidate for President occupied the third day. Friends of Seward who thronged the city exhibited absolute confidence.[539] They represented not only the discipline of the machine, with its well-drilled cohorts, called the "irrepressibles," and its impressive marching clubs, gay with banners and badges, but the ablest leaders on the floor of the convention. And back of all, stood Thurlow Weed, the matchless manager, whose adroitness and wisdom had been crowned with success for a whole generation. "He is one of the most remarkable men of our time," wrote Samuel Bowles, in the preceding February. "He is cool, calculating, a man of expedients, who boasts that for thirty years he had not in political affairs let his heart outweigh his judgment." Governor Edwin D. Morgan and Henry J. Raymond were his lieutenants, William M. Evarts, his floor manager, and a score of men whose names were soon to become famous acted as his assistants. The brilliant rhetoric of George William Curtis, when insisting upon an indorsement of the Declaration of Independence, gave the opposition a taste of their mettle.

[Footnote 539: "Mr. Seward seemed to be certain of receiving the nomination at Chicago. He felt that it belonged to him. His flatterers had encouraged him in the error that he was the sole creator of the Republican party."--H.B. Stanton, Random Recollections, p. 214. "I hear of so many fickle and timid friends as almost to make me sorry that I have ever attempted to organise a party to save my country." Letter of W.H. Seward to his wife, May 2, 1860.--F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, p. 448.]

Seward, confident of the nomination, had sailed for Europe in May, 1859, in a happy frame of mind. The only serious opposition had come from the Tribune and from the Keystone State; but on the eve of his departure Simon Cameron assured him of Pennsylvania, and Greeley, apparently reconciled, had dined with him at the Astor House. "The sky is bright, and the waters are calm," was the farewell to his wife.[540] After his return there came an occasional shadow. "I hear of so many fickle and timid friends," he wrote;[541] yet he had confidence in Greeley, who, while calling with Weed, exhibited such friendly interest that Seward afterward resented the suggestion of his disloyalty.[542] On reaching Auburn to await the action of the convention, his confidence of success found expression in the belief that he would not again return to Congress during that session. As the work of the convention progressed his friends became more sanguine. The solid delegations of New York, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, California, and Kansas, supplemented by the expected votes of New England and other States on a second roll call, made the nomination certain. Edward Bates had Missouri, Delaware, and Oregon, but their votes barely equalled one-half of New York's; Lincoln was positively sure of only Illinois, and several of its delegates preferred Seward; Chase had failed to secure the united support of Ohio, and Dayton in New Jersey was without hope. Cameron held Pennsylvania in reversion for the New York Senator. So hopeless did the success of the opposition appear at midnight of the second day, that Greeley telegraphed the Tribune predicting Seward's nomination, and the "irrepressibles" anticipated victory in three hundred bottles of champagne. As late as the morning of the third day, the confidence of the Seward managers impelled them to ask whom the opposition preferred for Vice President.

[Footnote 540: F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, p. 360.]

[Footnote 541: Ibid., p. 448.]

[Footnote 542: "Mr. Julius Wood of Columbus, O., an old and true friend of Mr. Weed, met Mr. Seward in Washington, and reiterated his fears in connection with the accumulation of candidates. 'Mr. Lincoln was brought to New York to divide your strength,' he said. But Mr. Seward was not disconcerted by these warnings. Less than a fortnight afterwards Mr. Wood was at the Astor House, where he again met Mr. Weed and Mr. Seward. Sunday afternoon Mr. Greeley visited the hotel and passing through one of the corridors met Mr. Wood, with whom he began conversation. 'We shan't nominate Seward,' said Mr. Greeley, 'we'll take some more conservative man, like Pitt Fessenden or Bates.' Immediately afterwards Mr. Wood went to Mr. Seward's room. 'Greeley has just been here with Weed,' said Mr. Seward. 'Weed brought him up here. You were wrong in what you said to me at Washington about Greeley; he is all right.' 'No, I was not wrong,' insisted Mr. Wood. 'Greeley is cheating you. He will go to Chicago and work against you.' At this Mr. Seward smiled. 'My dear Wood,' said he, 'your zeal sometimes gets a little the better of your judgment.'"--Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 269.]

But opponents had been industriously at work. They found that Republicans of Know-Nothing antecedents, especially in Pennsylvania, still disliked Seward's opposition to their Order, and that conservative Republicans recoiled from his doctrine of the higher law and the irrepressible conflict. Upon this broad foundation of unrest, the opposition adroitly builded, poisoning the minds of unsettled delegates with stories of his political methods and too close association with Thurlow Weed. No one questioned Seward's personal integrity; but the distrust of the political boss existed then as much as now, and his methods were no less objectionable. "The misconstruction put on his phrase 'the irrepressible conflict between freedom and slavery' has, I think, damaged him a good deal," wrote William Cullen Bryant, "and in this city there is one thing which has damaged him still more. I mean the project of Thurlow Weed to give charters for a set of city railways, for which those who receive them are to furnish a fund of from four to six hundred thousand dollars, to be expended for the Republican cause in the next presidential election."[543] Such a scheme would be rebuked even in this day of trust and corporation giving. People resented the transfer to Washington of the peculiar state of things at Albany, and when James S. Pike wrote of Seward's close connection with men who schemed for public grants, it recalled his belief in the adage that "Money makes the mare go." Allusion to Seward's "bad associates," as Bryant called them, and to the connection between "Seward stock" and "New York street railroads" had become frequent in the correspondence of leading men, and now, when delegates could talk face to face in the confidence of the party council chamber, these accusations made a profound impression. The presence of Tom Hyer and his rough marchers did not tend to eliminate these moral objections. "If you do not nominate Seward, where will you get your money?" was their stock argument.[544]

[Footnote 543: Parke Godwin, Life of William Cullen Bryant, Vol. 2, p. 127.]

[Footnote 544: Horace Greeley, New York Tribune, May 22, 1860.]

Horace Greeley, sitting as a delegate from Oregon, stayed with the friends of Bates and Lincoln at the Tremont Hotel. The announcement startled the New Yorkers. He had visited Weed at Albany on his way to Chicago, leaving the impression that he would support Seward,[545] but once in the convention city his disaffection became quickly known. Of all the members of the convention none attracted more attention, or had greater influence with the New England and Western delegates. His peculiar head and dress quickly identified him as he passed through the hotel corridors from delegation to delegation, and whenever he stopped to speak, an eager crowd of listeners heard his reasons why Seward could not carry the doubtful States. He marshalled all the facts and forgot no accusing rumour. His remarkable letter of 1854, dissolving the firm of Weed, Seward, and Greeley, had not then been published, leaving him in the position of a patriot and prophet who opposed the Senator because he sincerely believed him a weak candidate. "If we have ever demurred to his nomination," he said in the Tribune of April 23, in reply to the Times' charge of hostility, "it has been on the ground of his too near approximation in principle and sentiment to our standard to be a safe candidate just yet. We joyfully believe that the country is acquiring a just and adequate conception of the malign influence exerted by the slave power upon its character, its reputation, its treatment of its neighbour, and all its great moral and material interests. In a few years more we believe it will be ready to elect as its President a man who not only sees but proclaims the whole truth in this respect--in short, such a man as Governor Seward. We have certainly doubted its being yet so far advanced in its political education as to be ready to choose for President one who looks the slave oligarchy square in the eye and says, 'Know me as your enemy.'"

[Footnote 545: "At this time there was friendly intercourse between Mr. Greeley and Mr. Weed, nor did anybody suppose that Mr. Greeley was not on good terms with Governor Seward. He had, indeed, in 1854, written to Mr. Seward a remarkable letter, 'dissolving the firm of Seward, Weed & Greeley,' but Mr. Weed had never seen such a letter, nor did Mr. Greeley appear to remember its existence. Mr. Weed and Mr. Greeley met frequently in New York, not with all of the old cordiality, perhaps, but still they had by no means quarrelled. Mr. Greeley wrote often to Mr. Weed, in the old way, and he and his family were visitors at Mr. Weed's house. Indeed--though that seems impossible--Mr. Greeley stopped at Mr. Weed's house, in Albany, on his way West, before the Chicago convention, and made a friendly visit of a day or so, leaving the impression that he was going to support Mr. Seward when he reached Chicago."--Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 268.]

Greeley favoured Bates of Missouri, but was ready to support anybody to beat Seward. Bryant, disliking what he called the "pliant politics" of the New York Senator, had been disposed to favour Chase until the Cooper Institute speech. Lincoln left a similar trail of friends through New England. The Illinoisan's title of "Honest Old Abe," given, him by his neighbours, contrasted favourably with the whispered reports of "bad associates" and the "New York City railroad scheme." Gradually, even the radical element in the unpledged delegations began questioning the advisability of the New Yorker's selection, and when, on the night preceding the nomination, Andrew Curtin of Pennsylvania and Henry S. Lane[546] of Indiana, candidates for governor in their respective States, whose defeat in October would probably bring defeat in November, declared that Seward's selection would cost them their election, the opposition occupied good vantage ground. David Davis, the Illinois manager for Lincoln, against the positive instructions of his principal, strengthened these declarations by promising to locate Simon Cameron and Caleb B. Smith in the Cabinet. The next morning, however, the anti-Seward forces entered the convention without having concentrated upon a candidate. Lincoln had won Indiana, but Pennsylvania and Ohio were divided; New Jersey stood for Dayton; Bates still controlled Missouri, Delaware, and Oregon.

[Footnote 546: "I was with my husband in Chicago, and may tell you now, as most of the actors have joined the 'silent majority,' what no living person knows, that Thurlow Weed, in his anxiety for the success of Seward, took Mr. Lane out one evening and pleaded with him to lead the Indiana delegation over to Seward, saying they would send enough money from New York to insure his election for governor, and carry the State later for the New York candidate." Letter of Mrs. Henry S. Lane, September 16, 1891.--Alex. K. McClure, Lincoln and Men of War Times, p. 25, note.]

William M. Evarts presented Seward's name amidst loud applause. But at the mention of Lincoln's the vigour of the cheers surprised the delegates. The Illinois managers had cunningly filled the desirable seats with their shouters, excluding Tom Hyer and his marchers, who arrived too late, so that, although the applause for Seward was "frantic, shrill, and wild," says one correspondent, the cheers for Lincoln were "louder and more terrible."[547] Whether this had the influence ascribed to it at the time by Henry J. Raymond and others has been seriously questioned, but it undoubtedly aided in fixing the wavering delegates, and in encouraging the friends of other candidates to rally about the Lincoln standard.

[Footnote 547: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 145.]

The first roll call proved a disappointment to Seward. Though the pledged States were in line, New England fell short, Pennsylvania showed indifference, and Virginia created a profound surprise. Nevertheless, the confidence of the Seward forces remained unshaken. Of the 465 votes, Seward had 173-1/2, Lincoln 102, Cameron 50-1/2, Chase 49, and Bates 48, with 42 for seven others; necessary to a choice, 233. On the second ballot Seward gained four votes from New Jersey, two each from Texas and Kentucky, and one each from Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and Nebraska--making a total of 184-1/2. Lincoln moved up to 133. The action of Ohio in giving fourteen votes to Lincoln had been no less disappointing to the Seward managers than the transfer of Vermont's vote to the same column; but, before they could recover from this shock, Cameron was withdrawn and 48 votes from Pennsylvania carried Lincoln's total to 181.

The announcement of this change brought the convention to its feet amid scenes of wild excitement. Seward's forces endeavoured to avert the danger, but the arguments of a week were bearing fruit. As the third roll call proceeded, the scattering votes turned to Lincoln. Seward lost four from Rhode Island and half a vote from Pennsylvania, giving him 180, Lincoln 231-1/2, Chase 24-1/2, Bates 22, and 7 for three others. At this moment, an Ohio delegate authorised a change of four votes from Chase to Lincoln, and instantly one hundred guns, fired from the top of an adjoining building, announced the nomination of "Honest Old Abe." In a short speech of rare felicity and great strength, William M. Evarts moved to make the nomination unanimous.

The New York delegation, stunned by the result, declined the honour of naming a candidate for Vice President; and, on reassembling in the afternoon, the convention nominated Hannibal Hamlin of Maine. As Evarts was leaving the wigwam he remarked, with characteristic humour: "Well, Curtis, at least we have saved the Declaration of Independence!"

Three days after the nomination Greeley wrote James S. Pike: "Massachusetts was right in Weed's hands, contrary to all reasonable expectation. It was all we could do to hold Vermont by the most desperate exertions; and I at some times despaired of it. The rest of New England was pretty sound, but part of New Jersey was somehow inclined to sin against the light and knowledge. If you had seen the Pennsylvania delegation, and known how much money Weed had in hand, you would not have believed we could do so well as we did. Give Curtin thanks for that. Ohio looked very bad, yet turned out well, and Virginia had been regularly sold out; but the seller could not deliver. We had to rain red-hot bolts on them, however, to keep the majority from going for Seward, who got eight votes here as it was. Indiana was our right bower, and Missouri above praise. It was a fearful week, such as I hope and trust I shall never see repeated."[548] That Greeley received credit for all he did is evidenced by a letter from John D. Defrees, then a leading politician of Indiana, addressed to Schuyler Colfax. "Greeley slaughtered Seward and saved the party," he wrote. "He deserves the praises of all men and gets them now. Wherever he goes he is greeted with cheers."[549]

[Footnote 548: James S. Pike, First Blows of the Civil War, p. 519.]

[Footnote 549: Hollister, Life of Colfax, p. 148.]

The profound sorrow of Seward's friends resembled the distress of Henry Clay's supporters in 1840. It was not chagrin; it was not the selfish fear that considers the loss of office or spoils; it was not discouragement or despair. Apprehensions for the future of the party and the country there may have been, but their grief found its fountain-head in the feeling that "his fidelity to the country, the Constitution and the laws," as Evarts put it; "his fidelity to the party, and the principle that the majority govern; his interest in the advancement of our party to victory, that our country may rise to its true glory,"[550] had led to his sacrifice solely for assumed availability. The belief obtained that a large majority of the delegates preferred him, and that had the convention met elsewhere he would probably have been successful. In his Life of Lincoln, Alex. K. McClure of Pennsylvania, an anti-Seward delegate, says that "of the two hundred and thirty-one men who voted for Lincoln on the third and last ballot, not less than one hundred of them voted reluctantly against the candidate of their choice."[551]

[Footnote 550: William M. Evarts' speech making Lincoln's nomination unanimous. F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, p. 451.]

[Footnote 551: Alex. K. McClure, Life of Lincoln, p. 171.]

At Auburn a funeral gloom settled upon the town.[552] Admiration for Seward's great ability, and a just pride in the exalted position he occupied in his party and before the country, had long ago displaced the local spirit that refused him a seat in the constitutional convention of 1846; and after the defeat his fellow townsmen could not be comforted. Sincere sorrow filled their hearts. But Seward's bearing was heroic. When told that no Republican could be found to write a paragraph for the evening paper announcing and approving the nominations, he quickly penned a dozen lines eulogistic of the convention and its work. To Weed, who shed bitter tears, he wrote consolingly. "I wish I were sure that your sense of disappointment is as light as my own," he said. "It ought to be equally so, if we have been equally thoughtful and zealous for friends, party, and country. I know not what has been left undone that could have been done, or done that ought to be regretted."[553] During the week many friends from distant parts of the State called upon him, "not to console," as they expressed it, "but to be consoled." His cheerful demeanour under a disappointment so overwhelming to everybody else excited the inquiry how he could exhibit such control. His reply was characteristic. "For twenty years," he said, "I have been breasting a daily storm of censure. Now, all the world seems disposed to speak kindly of me. In that pile of papers, Republican and Democratic, you will find hardly one unkind word. When I went to market this morning I confess I was unprepared for so much real grief as I heard expressed at every corner."[554]

[Footnote 552: "On the day the convention was to ballot for a candidate, Cayuga County poured itself into Auburn. The streets were full, and Mr. Seward's house and grounds overflowed with his admirers. Flags were ready to be raised and a loaded cannon was placed at the gate whose pillars bore up two guardian lions. Arrangements had been perfected for the receipt of intelligence. At Mr. Seward's right hand, just within the porch, stood his trusty henchman, Christopher Morgan. The rider of a galloping steed dashed through the crowd with a telegram and handed it to Seward, who passed it to Morgan. For Seward, it read, 173-1/2; for Lincoln, 102. Morgan repeated it to the multitude, who cheered vehemently. Then came the tidings of the second ballot: For Seward, 184-1/2--for Lincoln, 181. 'I shall be nominated on the next ballot,' said Seward, and the throng in the house applauded, and those on the lawn and in the street echoed the cheers. The next messenger lashed his horse into a run. The telegram read, 'Lincoln nominated. T.W.' Seward turned as pale as ashes. The sad tidings crept through the vast concourse. The flags were furled, the cannon was rolled away, and Cayuga County went home with a clouded brow. Mr. Seward retired to rest at a late hour, and the night breeze in the tall trees sighed a requiem over the blighted hopes of New York's eminent son."--H.B. Stanton, Random Recollections, pp. 215-16.]

[Footnote 553: F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, p. 453.]

[Footnote 554: F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, p. 453.]

But deep in his heart despondency reigned supreme. "The reappearance at Washington in the character of a leader deposed by his own party, in the hour of organisation for decisive battle, thank God is past--and so the last of the humiliations has been endured," he wrote his wife. "Preston King met me at the depot and conveyed me to my home. It seemed sad and mournful. Dr. Nott's benevolent face, Lord Napier's complacent one, Jefferson's benignant one, and Lady Napier's loving one, seemed all like pictures of the dead. Even 'Napoleon at Fontainebleau' seemed more frightfully desolate than ever. At the Capitol the scene was entirely changed from my entrance into the chamber last winter. Cameron greeted me kindly; Wilkinson of Minnesota, and Sumner cordially and manfully. Other Republican senators came to me, but in a manner that showed a consciousness of embarrassment, which made the courtesy a conventional one; only Wilson came half a dozen times, and sat down by me. Mason, Gwin, Davis, and most of the Democrats, came to me with frank, open, sympathising words, thus showing that their past prejudices had been buried in the victory they had achieved over me. Good men came through the day to see me, and also this morning. Their eyes fill with tears, and they become speechless as they speak of what they call 'ingratitude.' They console themselves with the vain hope of a day of 'vindication,' and my letters all talk of the same thing. But they awaken no response in my heart. I have not shrunk from any fiery trial prepared for me by the enemies of my cause. But I shall not hold myself bound to try, a second time, the magnanimity of its friends."[555] To Weed he wrote: "Private life, as soon as I can reach it without grieving or embarrassing my friends, will be welcome to me. It will come the 4th of next March in my case, and I am not unprepared."[556]

[Footnote 555: Ibid., p. 454.]

[Footnote 556: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 270.]

Defeat was a severe blow to Seward. For the moment he seemed well-nigh friendless. The letter to his wife after he reached Washington was a threnody. He was firmly convinced that he was a much injured man, and his attitude was that of the martyr supported by the serenity of the saint. But to the world he bore himself with the courage and the dignity that belong to one whose supremacy is due to superiority of talents. The country could not know that he was to become a secretary of state of whom the civilised world would take notice; but one of Seward's prescience must have felt well satisfied in his own mind, even when telling Weed how "welcome" private life would be, that, although he was not to become President, he was at the opening of a greater political career.

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XXII. NEW YORK'S CONTROL AT BALTIMORE

1860

The recess between the Charleston and Baltimore conventions did not allay hostilities. Jefferson Davis' criticism and Douglas' tart retorts transferred the quarrel to the floor of the United States Senate, and by the time the delegates had reassembled at Baltimore on June 18, 1860, the factions exhibited greater exasperation than had been shown at Charleston. Yet the Douglas men seemed certain of success. Dean Richmond, it was said, had been engaged in private consultation with Douglas and his friends, pledging himself to stand by them to the last. On the other hand, rumours of a negotiation in which the Southerners and the Administration at Washington had offered the New Yorkers their whole strength for any man the Empire State might name other than Douglas and Guthrie, found ready belief among the Northwestern delegates. It was surmised, too, that the defeat of Seward at Chicago had strengthened the chances of Horatio Seymour, on the ground that the disappointed and discontented Seward Republicans would allow him to carry the State. Whatever truth there may have been in these reports, all admitted that the New York delegation had in its hands the destiny of the convention, if not that of the party itself.[557]

[Footnote 557: "There was no question that the New York delegation had the fate of the convention in its keeping; and while it was understood that the strength of Douglas in the delegation had been increased during the recess by the Fowler defalcation (Fowler's substitute being reported a Douglas man) and by the appearance of regular delegates whose alternates had been against Douglas at Charleston, it was obvious that the action of the politicians of New York could not be counted upon in any direction with confidence. Rumours circulated that a negotiation had been carried on in Washington by the New Yorkers with the South, to sell out Douglas, the Southerners and the Administration offering their whole strength to any man New York might name, provided that State would slaughter Douglas. On the other hand, it appeared that Dean Richmond, the principal manager of the New Yorkers, had pledged himself, as solemnly as a politician could do, to stand by the cause of Douglas to the last."--M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 159.]

The apparent breaking point at Charleston was the adoption of a platform; at Baltimore it was the readmission of seceding delegates. Florida, Mississippi, Arkansas, and Texas presented their original delegations, who sought immediate admission; but a resolution, introduced by Sanford E. Church of New York, referred them to the committee on credentials, with the understanding that persons accepting seats were bound in honour to abide the action of the convention. The Douglas men, greeting this resolution with tremendous applause, proposed driving it through without debate; but New York hesitated to order the previous question. Then it asked permission to withdraw for consultation, and when it finally voted in the negative, deeming it unwise to stifle debate, it revealed the fact that its action was decisive on all questions.

An amendment to the Church resolution proposed sending only contested seats to the credentials committee, without conditions as to loyalty, and over this joinder of issues some very remarkable speeches disclosed malignant bitterness rather than choice rhetoric. Richardson, still the recognised spokesman of Douglas, received marked attention as he argued boldly that the amendment admitted delegates not sent there, and decided a controversy without a hearing. "I do not propose," he said, "to sit side by side with delegates who do not represent the people; who are not bound by anything, when I am bound by everything. We are not so hard driven yet as to be compelled to elect delegates from States that do not choose to send any here."[558]

[Footnote 558: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 167.]

Russell of Virginia responded, declaring that his State intended, in the interest of fair play, to cling to the Democracy of the South. "If we are to be constrained to silence," he vociferated, "I beg gentlemen to consider the silence of Virginia ominous. If we are not gentlemen--if we are such knaves that we cannot trust one another--we had better scatter at once, and cease to make any effort to bind each other."[559] Speaking on similar lines, Ewing of Tennessee asked what was meant. "Have you no enemy in front? Have you any States to spare? We are pursued by a remorseless enemy, and yet from all quarters of this convention come exclamations of bitterness and words that burn, with a view to open the breach in our ranks wider and wider, until at last, Curtius-like, we will be compelled to leap into it to close it up."

[Footnote 559: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 168.]

But it remained for Montgomery of Pennsylvania, in spite of Cochrane's conciliatory words, to raise the political atmosphere to the temperature at Charleston just before the secession. "For the first time in the history of the Democratic party," he said, "a number of delegations of sovereign States, by a solemn instrument in writing, resigned their places upon the floor of the convention. They went out with a protest, not against a candidate, but against the principles of a party, declaring they did not hold and would not support them. And not only that, but they called a hostile convention, and sat side by side with us, deliberating upon a candidate and the adoption of a platform. Principles hostile to ours were asserted and a nomination hostile to ours was threatened. Our convention was compelled to adjourn in order to have these sovereign States represented. What became of the gentlemen who seceded? They adjourned to meet at Richmond. Now they seek to come back and sit upon this floor with us, and to-day they threaten us if we do not come to their terms. God knows I love the star spangled banner of my country, and it is because I love the Union that I am determined that any man who arrays himself in hostility to it shall not, with my consent, take a seat in this convention. I am opposed to secession either from this Union or from the Democratic convention, and when men declare the principles of the party are not their principles, and that they will neither support them nor stay in a convention that promulgates them, then I say it is high time, if they ask to come back, that they shall declare they have changed their minds."[560]

[Footnote 560: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, pp. 168-171.]

This swung the door of vituperative debate wide open, and after an adjournment had closed it in the hall, the crowds continued it in the street. At midnight, while Yancey made one of his silver-toned speeches, which appears, by all accounts, to have been a piece of genuine eloquence, the friends of Douglas, on the opposite side of Monument Square, kept the bands playing and crowds cheering.

When the convention assembled on the second day, Church, in the interest of harmony, withdrew the last clause of his resolution, and, without a dissenting voice, all contested seats went to the committee on credentials. Then the convention impatiently waited three days for a report, while the night meetings, growing noisier and more arrogant, served to increase the bitterness. The Douglasites denounced their opponents as "disorganisers and disunionists;" the Southerners retorted by calling them "a species of sneaking abolitionists." Yancey spoke of them as small men, with selfish aims. "They are ostrich-like--their head is in the sand of squatter sovereignty, and they do not know their great, ugly, ragged abolition body is exposed."

On the fourth day, the committee presented two reports, the majority, without argument, admitting the contestants--the minority, in a remarkably strong document of singular skill and great clearness, seating the seceders on the ground that their withdrawal was not a resignation and was not so considered by the convention. A resignation, it argued, must be made to the appointing power. The withdrawing delegates desired the instruction of their constituencies, who authorised them in every case except South Carolina to repair to Baltimore and endeavour once more to unite their party and promote harmony and peace in the great cause of their country.

This report made a profound impression upon the convention, and the motion to substitute it for the majority report at once threw New York into confusion. That delegation had already decided to sustain the majority, but the views of the seceders, so ably and logically presented, had reopened the door of debate, and a resolute minority, combining more than a proportionate share of the talent and worth of the delegation, insisted upon further time. After the convention had grudgingly taken a recess to accommodate the New Yorkers, William H. Ludlow reappeared and apologised for asking more time. This created the impression that Richmond's delegation, at the last moment, proposed to slaughter Douglas[561] as it did at Charleston, and the latter's friends, maddened and disheartened over what they called "New York's dishonest and cowardly procrastination," would gladly have prevented an adjournment. But the Empire State held the key to the situation. Without it Douglas could get nothing and in a hopeless sort of way his backers granted Ludlow's request.[562]

[Footnote 561: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 185.]

[Footnote 562: "The real business transacting behind the scenes has been the squelching of Douglas, which is understood to be as good as bargained for. The South is in due time to concentrate on a candidate--probably Horatio Seymour of our own State--and then New York is to desert Douglas for her own favourite son. Such is the programme as it stood up to last evening."--New York Tribune (editorial), June 20, 1860. "There are plenty of rumours, but nothing has really form and body unless it be a plan to have Virginia bring forward Horatio Seymour, whom New York will then diffidently accept in place of Douglas."--Ibid. (telegraphic report).]

The situation of the New York delegation was undoubtedly most embarrassing. Their admission to the Charleston convention had depended upon the Douglas vote, but their hope of success hinged upon harmony with the cotton States. A formidable minority favoured the readmission of the seceders and the abandonment of Douglas regardless of their obligation. This was not the policy of Dean Richmond, who was the pivotal personage. His plan included the union of the party by admitting the seceders, and the nomination of Horatio Seymour with the consent of the Northwest, after rendering the selection of Douglas impossible. It was a brilliant programme, but the inexorable demand of the Douglas men presented a fatal drawback. Richmond implored and pleaded. He knew the hostility of the Douglasites could make Seymour's nomination impossible, and he knew, also, that a refusal to admit the seceders would lead to a second secession, a second ticket, and a hopelessly divided party. Nevertheless, the Douglas men were remorseless.[563] Even Douglas' letter, sent Richardson on the third day, and his dispatch to Dean Richmond,[564] received on the fifth day, authorising the withdrawal of his name if it could be done without sacrificing the principle of non-intervention, did not relieve the situation. Rule or ruin was now their motto, as much as it was the South's, and between them Richmond's diplomatic resistance,[565] which once seemed of iron, became as clay. Nevertheless, Richmond's control of the New York delegation remained unbroken. The minority tried new arguments, planned new combinations, and racked their brains for new devices, but when Richmond finally gave up the hopeless and thankless task of harmonising the Douglasites and seceders, a vote of 27 to 43 forced the minority of the delegation into submission by the screw of the Syracuse unit rule, and New York finally sustained the majority report.

[Footnote 563: "The Soft leaders still shiver on the brink of a decision. But a new light broke on them yesterday, when they discovered that, if they killed Douglas, his friends were able and resolved to kill Seymour in turn."--New York Tribune (editorial), June 21. "The action of New York is still a subject of great doubt and anxiety. As it goes so goes the party and the Union of course."--Ibid. (telegraphic report).]

[Footnote 564: "A dispatch from Douglas to Richmond was sent because a letter containing similar suggestions to Richardson had been kept in the latter's pocket. But Richmond suppressed the dispatch as Richardson had suppressed the letter."--M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 195. "Richardson afterward explained that the action of the Southerners had put it out of his power to use Douglas' letter."--James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 2, p. 415.]

[Footnote 565: "It was asserted in Baltimore and believed in political circles that New York offered to reconsider her vote on the Louisiana case, and make up the convention out of the original materials, with the exception of the Alabama delegation. It could not agree to admit Yancey & Co. But the seceders and their friends would not hear to any such proposition. They scorned all compromise."--M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 195. "Many were the expedients devised to bring about harmony; but it was to attempt the impossible. The Southerners were exacting, the delegates from the Northwest bold and defiant."--James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 2, p. 474.]

After this, the convention became the theatre of a dramatic event which made it, for the moment, the centre of interest to the political world. The majority report seated the Douglas faction from Alabama and Louisiana, and then excluded William L. Yancey, a representative seceder, and let in Pierre Soulé, a representative Douglasite. It is sufficient proof of the sensitiveness of the relations between the two factions that an expressed preference for one of these men should again disrupt the convention, but the moving cause was far deeper than the majority's action. Yancey belonged to the daring, resolute, and unscrupulous band of men who, under the unhappy conditions that threatened their defeat, had already decided upon disunion; and, when the convention repudiated him, the lesser lights played their part. Virginia led a new secession, followed by most of the delegates from North Carolina, Tennessee, Arkansas, Kentucky, and Maryland, and finally by Caleb Cushing himself, the astute presiding officer, whose action anticipated the withdrawal of Massachusetts.

When they were gone, Pierre Soulé took the floor and made the speech of the convention, fascinating all who saw and heard. An eye-witness speaks of his rolling, glittering, eagle eye, Napoleonic head and face, sharp voice with a margin of French accent, and piercing, intense earnestness of manner. "I have not been at all discouraged," he said, "by the emotion which has been attempted to be created in this body by those who have seceded from it. We from the furthest South were prepared; we had heard the rumours which were to be initiatory of the exit which you have witnessed on this day, and we knew that conspiracy, which had been brooding for months past, would break out on this occasion, and for the purposes which are obvious to every member. Sirs, there are in political life men who were once honoured by popular favour, who consider that the favour has become to them an inalienable property, and who cling to it as to something that can no longer be wrested from their hands--political fossils so much incrusted in office that there is hardly any power that can extract them. They saw that the popular voice was already manifesting to this glorious nation who was to be her next ruler. Instead of bringing a candidate to oppose him; instead of creating issues upon which the choice of the nation could be enlightened; instead of principles discussed, what have we seen? An unrelenting war against the individual presumed to be the favourite of the nation! a war waged by an army of unprincipled and unscrupulous politicians, leagued with a power which could not be exerted on their side without disgracing itself and disgracing the nation." Secession, he declared, meant disunion, "but the people of the South will not respond to the call of the secessionists."[566]

[Footnote 566: M. Halstead, National Political Conventions of 1860, p. 207.]

The effect of Soulé's speech greatly animated and reassured the friends of Douglas, who now received 173-1/2 of the 190-1/2 votes cast. Dickinson got half a vote from Virginia, and Horatio Seymour one vote from Pennsylvania. At the mention of the latter's name, David P. Bissell of Utica promptly withdrew it upon the authority of a letter, in which Seymour briefly but positively declared that under no circumstances could he be a candidate for President or Vice President. On the second ballot, Douglas received all the votes but thirteen. This was not two-thirds of the original vote, but, in spite of the resolution which Dean Richmond passed at Charleston, Douglas was declared, amidst great enthusiasm, the nominee of the convention, since two-thirds of the delegates present had voted for him. Benjamin Fitzpatrick, United States senator from Alabama, was then nominated for Vice President. When he afterwards declined, the national committee appointed Herschel V. Johnson of Georgia in his place.

Meantime the Baltimore seceders, joined by their seceding colleagues from Charleston, met elsewhere in the city, adopted the Richmond platform, and nominated John C. Breckenridge of Kentucky for President, and Joseph Lane of Oregon for Vice President. A few days later the Richmond convention indorsed these nominations.

After the return of the New York delegation, the gagged minority, through the lips of Daniel S. Dickinson, told the story of the majority's purpose at Charleston and Baltimore. Dickinson was not depressed or abashed by his failure; neither was he a man to be rudely snuffed out or bottled up; and, although his speech at the Cooper Institute mass-meeting, called to ratify the Breckenridge and Lane ticket, revealed a vision clouded with passion and prejudice, it clearly disclosed the minority's estimate of the cardinal object of Dean Richmond's majority. "Waiving all questions of the merits or demerits of Mr. Douglas as a candidate," he said, his silken white hair bringing into greater prominence the lines of a handsome face, "his pretensions were pressed upon the convention in a tone and temper, and with a dogged and obstinate persistence, which was well calculated, if it was not intended, to break up the convention, or force it into obedience to the behests of a combination. The authors of this outrage, who are justly and directly chargeable with it, were the ruling majority of the New York delegation. They held the balance of power, and madly and selfishly and corruptly used it for the disruption of the Democratic party in endeavouring to force it to subserve their infamous schemes. They were charged with high responsibilities in a crisis of unusual interest in our history, and in an evil moment their leprous hands held the destinies of a noble party. They proclaimed personally and through their accredited organs that the Southern States were entitled to name a candidate, but from the moment they entered the convention at Charleston until it was finally broken up at Baltimore by their base conduct and worse faith, their every act was to oppose any candidate who would be acceptable to those States.

"Those who controlled the New York delegation through the fraudulent process of a unit vote--a rule forced upon a large minority to stifle their sentiments--will hereafter be known as political gamblers. The Democratic party of New York, founded in the spirit of Jefferson, has, in the hands of these gamblers, been disgraced by practices which would dishonour a Peter Funk cast-off clothing resort; cheating the people of the State, cheating a great and confiding party, cheating the convention which admitted them to seats, cheating delegations who trusted them, cheating everybody with whom they came in contact, and then lamenting from day to day, through their accredited organ, that the convention had not remained together so that they might finally have cheated Douglas. Political gamblers! You have perpetrated your last cheat--consummated your last fraud upon the Democratic party. Henceforth you will be held and treated as political outlaws. There is no fox so crafty but his hide finally goes to the hatter."[567]

[Footnote 567: New York Tribune, July 19, 1860.]

In his political controversies, Dickinson acted on the principle that an opponent is necessarily a blockhead or a scoundrel. But there was little or no truth in his severe arraignment. Richmond's purpose was plainly to nominate Horatio Seymour if it could be done with the consent of the Northwestern States, and his sudden affection for a two-thirds rule came from a determination to prolong the convention until it yielded consent. At no time did he intend leaving Douglas for any one other than Seymour. On the other hand, Dickinson had always favoured slavery.[568] Neither the Wilmot Proviso nor the repeal of the Missouri Compromise disturbed him. What slavery demanded he granted; what freedom sought he denounced. His belief that the South would support him for a compromise candidate in return for his fidelity became an hallucination. It showed itself at Cincinnati in 1852 when he antagonised Marcy; and his position in 1860 was even less advantageous. Nevertheless, Dickinson nursed his delusion until the guns at Fort Sumter disclosed the real design of Yancey and the men in whom he had confided.

[Footnote 568: "The obduracy, the consistency of Mr. Dickinson's Democracy are of the most marked type. Ever since he changed his vote from Van Buren to Polk, with such hearty alacrity in the Baltimore convention of 1844, he has promptly yielded to every requisition which the Southern Democracy has made upon their Northern allies. All along through the stormy years when the star of the Wilmot Proviso was in the ascendant, and when Wright and Dix bowed to the gale, and even Marcy and Bronson bent before it, Dickinson, on the floor of the Senate, stood erect and immovable."--New York Tribune, July 4, 1860.]

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XXIII. RAYMOND, GREELEY, AND WEED

1860

It was impossible that the defeat of Seward at Chicago, so unexpected, and so far-reaching in its effect, should be encountered without some attempt to fix the responsibility. To Thurlow Weed's sorrow[569] was added the mortification of defeat. He had staked everything upon success, and, although he doubtless wished to avoid any unseemly demonstration of disappointment, the rankling wound goaded him into a desire to relieve himself of any lack of precaution. Henry J. Raymond scarcely divided the responsibility of management; but his newspaper, which had spoken for Seward, shared in the loss of prestige, while the Tribune, his great rival in metropolitan journalism, disclosed between the lines of assumed modesty an exultant attitude.

[Footnote 569: "Mr. Weed was for a time completely unnerved by the result. He even shed tears over the defeat of his old friend."--Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 271.

"After the joy of Lincoln's nomination had subsided," wrote Leonard Swett of Chicago, "Judge Davis and I called upon Mr. Weed. This was the first time either of us had met him. He did not talk angrily as to the result, nor did he complain of any one. Confessing with much feeling to the great disappointment of his life, he said, 'I hoped to make my friend, Mr. Seward, President, and I thought I could serve my country in so doing.' He was a larger man intellectually than I anticipated, and of finer fibre. There was in him an element of gentleness and a large humanity which won me, and I was pleased no less than surprised."--Ibid., Vol. 2, p. 292.]

Greeley had played a very important part in the historic convention. The press gave him full credit for his activity, and he admitted it in his jubilant letter to Pike; but after returning to New York he seemed to think it wise to minimise his influence, claiming that the result would have been the same had he remained at home. "The fact that the four conspicuous doubtful States of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Indiana, and Illinois," he wrote, "unanimously testified that they could not be carried for Seward was decisive. Against this Malakoff the most brilliant evolutions of political strategy could not avail."[570] This two-column article, modestly concealing his own work, might not have led to an editorial war between the three great Republican editors of the State, had not Greeley, in the exordium of a speech, published in the Tribune of May 23, exceeded the limits of human endurance. "The past is dead," he said. "Let the dead past bury it, and let the mourners, if they will, go about the streets."

[Footnote 570: New York Tribune, May 22, 1860.]

The exultant sentences exasperated Raymond, who held the opinion which generally obtained among New York Republican leaders, that Greeley's persistent hostility was not only responsible for Seward's defeat, but that under the guise of loyalty to the party's highest interests he had been insidious and revengeful, and Raymond believed it needed only a bold and loud-spoken accusation against him to fill the mind of the public with his guilt. In this spirit he wrote a stinging reply. "With the generosity which belongs to his nature, and which a feeling not unlike remorse may have stimulated into unwonted activity," said this American Junius, "Mr. Greeley awards to others the credit which belongs transcendently to himself. The main work of the Chicago convention was the defeat of Governor Seward, and in that endeavour Mr. Greeley laboured harder, and did tenfold more, than the whole family of Blairs, together with all the gubernatorial candidates, to whom he modestly hands over the honours of the effective campaign. Mr. Greeley had special qualifications, as well as a special love, for this task. For twenty years he had been sustaining the political principles and vindicating the political conduct of Mr. Seward through the columns of the most influential political newspaper in the country. His voice was potential precisely where Governor Seward was strongest, because it was supposed to be that of a friend, strong in his personal attachment and devotion, and driven into opposition on this occasion solely by the despairing conviction that the welfare of the country and the triumph of the Republican cause demanded the sacrifice. For more than six months Mr. Greeley had been preparing the way for this consummation. He was in Chicago several days before the meeting of the convention and he devoted every hour of the interval to the most steady and relentless prosecution of the main business which took him thither.

"While it was known to some that nearly six years ago he had privately, but distinctly, repudiated all further political friendship for and alliance with Governor Seward, for the avowed reason that Governor Seward had never aided or advised his elevation to office, no use was made of this knowledge in quarters where it would have disarmed the deadly effect of his pretended friendship for the man upon whom he was thus deliberately wreaking the long hoarded revenge of a disappointed office-seeker.... Being thus stimulated by a hatred he had secretly cherished for years, protected by the forbearance of those whom he assailed, and strong in the confidence of those upon whom he sought to operate, it is not strange that Mr. Greeley's efforts should have been crowned with success. But it is perfectly safe to say that no other man--certainly no one occupying a position less favourable for such an assault--could possibly have accomplished that result."[571]

[Footnote 571: New York Times, May 25, 1860.]

Raymond's letter produced a profound impression. It excited the astonishment and incredulity of every one. He had made a distinct charge that Greeley's opposition was the revenge of a disappointed office-seeker, and the public, resenting the imputation, demanded the evidence. Greeley himself echoed the prayer by a blast from his silver trumpet which added to the interest as well as to the excitement. "This carefully drawn indictment," he said, "contains a very artful mixture of truth and misrepresentation. No intelligent reader of the Tribune has for months been left in doubt of the fact that I deemed the nomination of Governor Seward for President at this time unwise and unsafe; and none can fail to understand that I did my best at Chicago to prevent that nomination. My account of 'Last Week at Chicago' is explicit on that point. True, I do not believe my influence was so controlling as the defeated are disposed to represent it, but this is not material to the issue. It is agreed that I did what I could.

"It is not true--it is grossly untrue--that at Chicago I commended myself to the confidence of delegates 'by professions of regard and the most zealous friendship for Governor Seward, but presented defeat, even in New York, as the inevitable result of his nomination.' The very reverse of this is the truth. I made no professions before the nomination, as I have uttered no lamentations since. It was the simple duty of each delegate to do just whatever was best for the Republican cause, regardless of personal considerations. And this is exactly what I did.... As to New York, I think I was at least a hundred times asked whether Governor Seward could carry this State;[572] and I am sure I uniformly responded affirmatively, urging delegates to consider the New York delegation the highest authority on that point as I was strenuously urging that the delegations from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Indiana, and Illinois must be regarded as authority as to who could and who could not carry their respective States.

[Footnote 572: "At Chicago, Seward encountered the opposition from his own State of such powerful leaders as Greeley, Dudley Field, Bryant, and Wadsworth. The first two were on the ground and very busy. The two latter sent pungent letters that were circulated among the delegates from the various States. The main point of the attack was that Seward could not carry New York. Soon after the adjournment of the convention, William Curtis Noyes, a delegate, told me that a careful canvass of the New York delegation showed that nearly one-fourth of its members believed it was extremely doubtful if Seward could obtain a majority at the polls in that State."--H.B. Stanton, Random Recollections, pp. 214-15. "Perhaps the main stumbling block over which he fell in the convention was Thurlow Weed."--Ibid., p. 215.]

"Mr. Raymond proceeds to state that I had, 'in November, 1854, privately but distinctly repudiated all further political friendship for and alliance with Governor Seward, and menaced him with hostility wherever it could be made most effective; for the avowed reason that Governor Seward had never advised my elevation to office,' &c. This is a very grave charge, and, being dated 'Auburn, Tuesday, May 22, 1860,' and written by one who was there expressly and avowedly to console with Governor Seward on his defeat and denounce me as its author, it is impossible not to see that Governor Seward is its responsible source. I, therefore, call on him for the private letter which I did write him in November, 1854, that I may print it verbatim in the Tribune, and let every reader judge how far it sustains the charges which his mouthpiece bases thereon. I maintain that it does not sustain them; but I have no copy of the letter, and I cannot discuss its contents while it remains in the hands of my adversaries, to be used at their discretion. I leave to others all judgment as to the unauthorised use which has already been made of this private and confidential letter, only remarking that this is by no means the first time it has been employed to like purpose. I have heard of its contents being dispensed to members of Congress from Governor Seward's dinner-table; I have seen articles based on it paraded in the columns of such devoted champions of Governor Seward's principles and aims as the Boston Courier. It is fit that the New York Times should follow in their footsteps; but I, who am thus fired on from an ambush, demand that the letter shall no longer be thus employed. Let me have the letter and it shall appear verbatim in every edition of the Tribune. Meantime, I only say that, when I fully decided that I would no longer be devoted to Governor Seward's personal fortunes, it seemed due to candour and fair dealing that I should privately but in all frankness apprise him of the fact. It was not possible that I could in any way be profited by writing that letter; I well understood that it involved an abdication of all hopes of political advancement; yet it seemed due to my own character that the letter should be written. Of course I never dreamed that it could be published, or used as it already has been; but no matter--let us have the letter in print, and let the public judge between its writer and his open and covert assailants. At all events I ask no favour and fear no open hostility.

"There are those who will at all events believe that my opposition to Governor Seward's nomination was impelled by personal considerations; and among these I should expect to find the Hon. Henry J. Raymond. With these I have no time for controversy; in their eyes I desire no vindication. But there is another and far larger class who will realise that the obstacles to Governor Seward's election were in no degree of my creation, and that their removal was utterly beyond my powers. The whole course of the Tribune has tended to facilitate the elevation to the Presidency of a statesman cherishing the pronounced anti-slavery views of Governor Seward; it is only on questions of finance and public economy that there has been any perceptible divergence between us. Those anti-democratic voters of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Indiana, and Illinois, who could not be induced to vote for Governor Seward, have derived their notions of him in some measure from the Times, but in no measure from the Tribune. The delegations from those States, with the candidates for governor in Pennsylvania and Indiana, whose representations and remonstrances rendered the nomination of Governor Seward, in the eyes of all intelligent, impartial observers, a clear act of political suicide, were nowise instructed or impelled by me. They acted on views deliberately formed long before they came to Chicago. It is not my part to vindicate them; but whoever says they were influenced by me, other than I was by them, does them the grossest injustice.

"I wished first of all to succeed; next, to strengthen and establish our struggling brethren in the border slave States. If it had seemed to me possible to obtain one more vote in the doubtful States for Governor Seward than for any one else, I should have struggled for him as ardently as I did against him, even though I had known that the Raymonds who hang about our party were to be his trusted counsellors and I inflexibly shut out from his confidence and favour. If there be any who do not believe this, I neither desire their friendship nor deprecate their hostility."[573]

[Footnote 573: New York Tribune, June 2, 1860.]

Greeley's demand for his letter did not meet with swift response. It was made on June 2. When Seward passed through New York on his way to Washington on the 8th, a friend of Greeley waited upon him, but he had nothing for the Tribune. Days multiplied into a week, and still nothing came. Finally, on June 13, Greeley received it through the hands of Thurlow Weed and published it on the 14th. It bore date "New York, Saturday evening, November 11, 1854," and was addressed simply to "Governor Seward." Its great length consigned it to nonpareil in strange contrast to the long primer type of the editorial page, but its publication became the sensation of the hour. To this day its fine thought-shading is regarded the best illustration of Greeley's matchless prose.

"The election is over," he says, "and its results sufficiently ascertained. It seems to me a fitting time to announce to you the dissolution of the political firm of Seward, Weed & Greeley, by the withdrawal of the junior partner--said withdrawal to take effect on the morning after the first Tuesday in February next. And, as it may seem a great presumption in me to assume that any such firm exists, especially since the public was advised, rather more than a year ago, by an editorial rescript in the Evening Journal, formally reading me out of the Whig party, that I was esteemed no longer either useful or ornamental in the concern, you will, I am sure, indulge me in some reminiscences which seem to befit the occasion.

"I was a poor young printer and editor of a literary journal--a very active and bitter Whig in a small way, but not seeking to be known out of my own ward committee--when, after the great political revulsion of 1837, I was one day called to the City Hotel, where two strangers introduced themselves as Thurlow Weed and Lewis Benedict, of Albany. They told me that a cheap campaign paper of a peculiar stamp at Albany had been resolved on, and that I had been selected to edit it. The announcement might well be deemed flattering by one who had never even sought the notice of the great, and who was not known as a partisan writer, and I eagerly embraced their proposals. They asked me to fix my salary for the year; I named $1,000, which they agreed to; and I did the work required to the best of my ability. It was work that made no figure and created no sensation; but I loved it and did it well. When it was done you were Governor, dispensing offices worth $3000 to $20,000 per year to your friends and compatriots, and I returned to my garret and my crust, and my desperate battle with pecuniary obligations heaped upon me by bad partners in business and the disastrous events of 1837. I believe it did not then occur to me that some of these abundant places might have been offered to me without injustice; I now think it should have occurred to you. If it did occur to me, I was not the man to ask you for it; I think that should not have been necessary. I only remember that no friend at Albany inquired as to my pecuniary circumstances; that your friend (but not mine), Robert C. Wetmore, was one of the chief dispensers of your patronage here; and that such devoted compatriots as A.H. Wells and John Hooks were lifted by you out of pauperism into independence, as I am glad I was not; and yet an inquiry from you as to my needs and means at that time would have been timely, and held ever in grateful remembrance.

"In the Harrison campaign of 1840 I was again designated to edit a campaign paper. I published it as well, and ought to have made something by it, in spite of its extremely low price; my extreme poverty was the main reason why I did not. It compelled me to hire presswork, mailing, etc., done by the job, and high charges for extra work nearly ate me up. At the close I was still without property and in debt, but this paper had rather improved my position.

"Now came the great scramble of the swell mob of coon minstrels and cider suckers at Washington--I not being counted in. Several regiments of them went on from this city; but no one of the whole crowd--though I say it who should not--had done so much toward General Harrison's nomination and election as yours respectfully. I asked nothing, expected nothing; but you, Governor Seward, ought to have asked that I be postmaster of New York. Your asking would have been in vain; but it would have been an act of grace neither wasted nor undeserved.

"I soon after started the Tribune, because I was urged to do so by certain of your friends, and because such a paper was needed here. I was promised certain pecuniary aid in so doing; it might have been given me without cost or risk to any one. All I ever had was a loan by piecemeal of $1000, from James Coggeshall. God bless his honoured memory! I did not ask for this, and I think it is the one sole case in which I ever received a pecuniary favour from a political associate. I am very thankful that he did not die till it was fully repaid.

"And let me here honour one grateful recollection. When the Whig party under your rule had offices to give, my name was never thought of; but when in '42-'43, we were hopelessly out of power, I was honoured with the nomination for state printer. When we came again to have a state printer to elect, as well as nominate, the place went to Weed, as it ought. Yet it was worth something to know that there was once a time when it was not deemed too great a sacrifice to recognise me as belonging to your household. If a new office had not since been created on purpose to give its valuable patronage to H.J. Raymond and enable St. John to show forth his Times as the organ of the Whig state administration, I should have been still more grateful.

"In 1848 your star again rose, and my warmest hopes were realised in your election to the Senate. I was no longer needy, and had no more claim than desire to be recognised by General Taylor. I think I had some claim to forbearance from you. What I received thereupon was a most humiliating lecture in the shape of a decision in the libel case of Redfield and Pringle, and an obligation to publish it in my own and the other journal of our supposed firm. I thought and still think this lecture needlessly cruel and mortifying. The plaintiffs, after using my columns to the extent of their needs or desires, stopped writing and called on me for the name of their assailant. I proffered it to them--a thoroughly responsible man. They refused to accept it unless it should prove to be one of the four or five first men in Batavia!--when they had known from the first who it was, and that it was neither of them. They would not accept that which they had demanded; they sued me instead for money, and money you were at liberty to give them to their heart's content. I do not think you were at liberty to humiliate me in the eyes of my own and your public as you did. I think you exalted your own judicial sternness and fearlessness unduly at my expense. I think you had a better occasion for the display of these qualities when Webb threw himself entirely upon you for a pardon which he had done all a man could do to demerit. His paper is paying you for it now.

"I have publicly set forth my view of your and our duty with respect to fusion, Nebraska, and party designations. I will not repeat any of that. I have referred also to Weed's reading me out of the Whig party--my crime being, in this as in some other things, that of doing to-day what more politic persons will not be ready to do till to-morrow.

"Let me speak of the late canvass. I was once sent to Congress for ninety days merely to enable Jim Brooks to secure a seat therein for four years. I think I never hinted to any human being that I would have liked to be put forward for any place. But James W. White (you hardly know how good and true a man he is) started my name for Congress, and Brooks' packed delegation thought I could help him through; so I was put on behind him. But this last spring, after the Nebraska question had created a new state of things at the North, one or two personal friends, of no political consideration, suggested my name as a candidate for governor, and I did not discourage them. Soon, the persons who were afterward mainly instrumental in nominating Clark came about me, and asked if I could secure the Know-Nothing vote. I told them I neither could nor would touch it; on the contrary, I loathed and repelled it. Thereupon they turned upon Clark.

"I said nothing, did nothing. A hundred people asked me who should be run for governor. I sometimes indicated Patterson; I never hinted at my own name. But by and by Weed came down, and called me to him, to tell me why he could not support me for governor. I had never asked nor counted on his support.

"I am sure Weed did not mean to humiliate me; but he did it. The upshot of his discourse (very cautiously stated) was this: If I were a candidate for governor, I should beat not myself only, but you. Perhaps that was true. But as I had in no manner solicited his or your support, I thought this might have been said to my friends rather than to me. I suspect it is true that I could not have been elected governor as a Whig. But had he and you been favourable, there would have been a party in the State ere this which could and would have elected me to any post, without injuring itself or endangering your re-election.

"It was in vain that I urged that I had in no manner asked a nomination. At length I was nettled by his language--well intended, but very cutting as addressed by him to me--to say, in substance, 'Well, then, make Patterson governor, and try my name for lieutenant. To lose this place is a matter of no importance; and we can see whether I am really so odious.'

"I should have hated to serve as lieutenant-governor, but I should have gloried in running for the post. I want to have my enemies all upon me at once; am tired of fighting them piecemeal. And, though I should have been beaten in the canvass, I know that my running would have helped the ticket, and helped my paper.

"It was thought best to let the matter take another course. No other name could have been put on the ticket so bitterly humbling to me as that which was selected. The nomination was given to Raymond; the fight left to me. And, Governor Seward, I have made it, though it be conceited in me to say so. Even Weed has not been (I speak of his paper) hearty in this contest, while the journal of the Whig lieutenant-governor has taken care of its own interests and let the canvass take care of itself, as it early declared it would do. That journal has (because of its milk-and-water course) some twenty thousand subscribers in this city and its suburbs, and of these twenty thousand, I venture to say more voted for Ullman and Scroggs than for Clark and Raymond; the Tribune (also because of its character) has but eight thousand subscribers within the same radius, and I venture to say that of its habitual readers, nine-tenths voted for Clark and Raymond--very few for Ullman and Scroggs. I had to bear the brunt of the contest....

"Governor Seward, I know that some of your most cherished friends think me a great obstacle to your advancement; that John Schoolcraft, for one, insists that you and Weed should not be identified with me. I trust, after a time, you will not be. I trust I shall never be found in opposition to you; I have no further wish than to glide out of the newspaper world as quietly and as speedily as possible, join my family in Europe, and, if possible, stay there quite a time--long enough to cool my fevered brain and renovate my over-tasked energies. All I ask is that we shall be counted even on the morning after the first Tuesday in February, as aforesaid, and that I may thereafter take such course as seems best without reference to the past.

"You have done me acts of valued kindness in the line of your profession; let me close with the assurance that these will ever be gratefully remembered by Yours, Horace Greeley."[574]

[Footnote 574: New York Tribune, June 14, 1860.]

At the time Seward received this letter he regarded it as only a passing cloud-shadow. "To-day I have a long letter from Greeley, full of sharp, pricking thorns," he wrote Weed. "I judge, as we might indeed well know from his nobleness of disposition, that he has no idea of saying or doing anything wrong or unkind; but it is sad to see him so unhappy. Will there be a vacancy in the Board of Regents this winter? Could one be made at the close of the session? Could he have it? Raymond's nomination and election is hard for him to bear."[575] Two or three weeks later, after a call at the Tribune office, Seward again wrote Weed, suggesting that "Greeley's despondency is overwhelming, and seems to be aggravated by the loss of subscribers. But below this is chagrin at the failure to obtain official position."[576] With such inquiries and comments Seward put the famous letter away.[577]

[Footnote 575: F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, p. 239.]

[Footnote 576: Ibid., p. 240.]

[Footnote 577: "My personal relations with Governor Seward were wholly unchanged by this letter. We met frequently and cordially after it was written, and we very freely conferred and co-operated during the long struggle in Congress for Kansas and Free Labour. He understood as well as I did that my position with regard to him, though more independent than it had been, was nowise hostile, and that I was as ready to support his advancement as that of any other statesman, whenever my judgment should tell me that the public good required it. I was not his adversary, but my own and my country's freeman."--Horace Greeley, Recollections of a Busy Life, p. 321.]

Its publication did not accomplish all that Raymond expected. People were amazed, and deep in their hearts many persons felt that Greeley had been treated unfairly. The inquiry as to a vacancy in the Board of Regents showed that Seward himself shared this opinion at the time. But the question that most interested the public in 1860 was, why, if Greeley had declared war upon Seward in 1854, did not Weed make it known in time to destroy the influence of the man who had "deliberately wreaked the long-hoarded revenge of a disappointed office-seeker?" This question reflected upon Weed's management of Seward's campaign, and to avoid the criticism he claimed to have been "in blissful ignorance of its contents." This seems almost impossible. But in explaining the groundlessness of Greeley's complaints, Weed wrote an editorial, the dignity and patriotism of which contrasted favourably with Greeley's self-seeking.

"There are some things in this letter," wrote the editor of the Evening Journal, "requiring explanation--all things in it, indeed, are susceptible of explanations consistent with Governor Seward's full appreciation of Mr. Greeley's friendship and services. The letter was evidently written under a morbid state of feeling, and it is less a matter of surprise that such a letter was thus written, than that its writer should not only cherish the ill-will that prompted it for six years, but allow it to influence his action upon a question which concerns his party and his country.

"Mr. Greeley's first complaint is that this journal, in an 'editorial rescript formally read him out of the Whig party.' Now, here is the 'editorial rescript formally reading' Mr. Greeley out of the Whig party, taken from the Evening Journal of September 6, 1853:

"'The Tribune defines its position in reference to the approaching election. Regarding the "Maine law" as a question of paramount importance, it will support members of the legislature friendly to its passage, irrespective of party. For state officers it will support such men as it deems competent and trustworthy, irrespective also of party, and without regard to the "Maine law." In a word, it avows itself, for the present, if not forever, an independent journal (it was pretty much so always), discarding party usages, mandates, and platforms.

"'We regret to lose, in the Tribune, an old, able, and efficient co-labourer in the Whig vineyard. But when carried away by its convictions of duty to other, and, in its judgment, higher and more beneficent objects, we have as little right as inclination to complain. The Tribune takes with it, wherever it goes, an indomitable and powerful pen, a devoted, a noble, and an unselfish zeal. Its senior editor evidently supposes himself permanently divorced from the Whig party, but we shall be disappointed if, after a year or two's sturdy pulling at the oar of reform, he does not return to his long-cherished belief that great and beneficent aims must continue, as they commenced, to be wrought out through Whig instrumentalities.

"'But we only intended to say that the Tribune openly and frankly avows its intention and policy; and that in things about which we cannot agree, we can and will disagree as friends.'

"Pray read this article again, if its purpose and import be not clearly understood! At the time it appeared, the Tribune was under high pressure 'Maine law' speed. That question, in Mr. Greeley's view, was paramount to all others. It was the Tribune's 'higher law.' Mr. Greeley had given warning in his paper that he should support 'Maine law' candidates for the legislature, and for state offices, regardless of their political or party principles and character. And this, too, when senators to be elected had to choose a senator in Congress. But instead of 'reading' Mr. Greeley 'out of the Whig party,' it will be seen that after Mr. Greeley had read himself out of the party by discarding 'party usages, mandates, and platforms,' the Evening Journal, in the language and spirit of friendship, predicted just what happened, namely, that, in due time, Mr. Greeley would 'return to his long-cherished belief that great and beneficent aims must continue, as they commenced, to be wrought out through Whig instrumentalities.'

"We submit, even to Mr. Greeley himself, whether there is one word or thought in the article to which he referred justifying his accusation that he had been 'read out of the Whig party' by the Evening Journal.

"In December, 1837, when we sought the acquaintance and co-operation of Mr. Greeley, we were, like him, a 'poor printer,' working as hard as he worked. We had then been sole editor, reporter, news collector, 'remarkable accident,' 'horrid murder,' 'items' man, etc., etc., for seven years, at a salary of $750, $1000, $1250, and $1500. We had also been working hard, for poor pay, as an editor and politician, for the twelve years preceding 1830. We stood, therefore, on the same footing with Mr. Greeley when the partnership was formed. We knew that Mr. Greeley was much abler, more indomitably industrious, and, as we believed, a better man in all respects. We foresaw for him a brilliant future; and, if we had not started with utterly erroneous views of his objects, we do not believe that our relations would have jarred. We believed him indifferent alike to the temptations of money and office, desiring only to become both 'useful' and 'ornamental,' as the editor of a patriotic, enlightened, leading, and influential public journal. For years, therefore, we placed Horace Greeley far above the 'swell mob' of office-seekers, for whom, in his letter, he expresses so much contempt. Had Governor Seward known, in 1838, that Mr. Greeley coveted an inspectorship, he certainly would have received it. Indeed, if our memory be not at fault, Mr. Greeley was offered the clerkship of the Assembly in 1838. It was certainly pressed upon us, and, though at that time, like Mr. Greeley, desperately poor, it was declined.

"We cannot think that Mr. Greeley's political friends, after the Tribune was under way, knew that he needed the 'pecuniary aid' which had been promised. When, about that period, we suggested to him (after consulting some of the board) that the printing of the common council, might be obtained, he refused to have anything to do with it.

"In relation to the state printing, Mr. Greeley knows that there never was a day when, if he had chosen to come to Albany, he might not have taken whatever interest he pleased in the Journal and its state printing. But he wisely regarded his position in New York, and the future of the Tribune, as far more desirable.

"For the 'creation of the new office for the Times,' Mr. Greeley knows perfectly well that Governor Seward was in no manner responsible.

"That Mr. Greeley should make the adjustment of the libel suit of Messrs. Redfield and Pringle against the Tribune a ground of accusation against Governor Seward is a matter of astonishment. Governor Seward undertook the settlement of that suit as the friend of Mr. Greeley, at a time when a systematic effort was being made to destroy both the Tribune and Journal by prosecutions for libel. We were literally plastered over with writs, declarations, etc. There were at least two judges of the Supreme Court in the State, on whom plaintiffs were at liberty to count for verdicts. Governor Seward tendered his professional services to Mr. Greeley, and in the case referred to, as in others, foiled the adversary. For such service this seems a strange requital. Less fortunate than the Tribune, it cost the Journal over $8000 to reach a point in legal proceedings that enabled a defendant in a libel suit to give the truth in evidence.

"It was by no fault or neglect or wish of Governor Seward that Mr. Greeley served but 'ninety days in Congress.' Nor will we say what others have said, that his congressional début was a failure. There were no other reasons, and this seems a fitting occasion to state them. Mr. Greeley's 'isms' were in his way at conventions. The sharp points and rough edges of the Tribune rendered him unacceptable to those who nominate candidates. This was more so formerly than at present, for most of the rampant reforms to which the Tribune was devoted have subsided. We had no sympathy with, and little respect for, a constituency that preferred 'Jim' Brooks to Horace Greeley.

"Nearly forty years of experience leaves us in some doubt whether, with political friends, an open, frank, and truthful, or a cautious, calculating, non-committal course is not the right, but the easiest and most politic. The former, which we have chosen, has made us much trouble and many enemies. Few candidates are able to bear the truth, or to believe that the friend who utters it is truly one.

"In 1854, the Tribune, through years of earnest effort, had educated the people up to the point of demanding a 'Maine law' candidate for governor. But its followers would not accept their chief reformer! It was evident that the state convention was to be largely influenced by 'Maine law' and 'Choctaw' Know-Nothing delegates. It was equally evident that Mr. Greeley could neither be nominated nor elected. Hence the conference to which he refers. We found, as on two other occasions during thirty years, our state convention impracticable. We submitted the names of Lieutenant-Governor Patterson and Judge Harris (both temperance men in faith and practice) as candidates for governor, coupled with that of Mr. Greeley for lieutenant-governor. But the 'Maine law' men would have none of these, preferring Myron H. Clark (who used up the raw material of temperance), qualified by H.J. Raymond for lieutenant-governor.

"What Mr. Greeley says of the relative zeal and efficiency of the Tribune and Times, and of our own feelings in that contest, is true. We did our duty, but with less of enthusiasm than when we were supporting either Granger, Seward, Bradish, Hunt, Fish, King, or Morgan for governor.

"One word in relation to the supposed 'political firm.' Mr. Greeley brought into it his full quota of capital. But were there no beneficial results, no accruing advantages, to himself? Did he not attain, in the sixteen years, a high position, world-wide reputation, and an ample fortune? Admit, as we do, that he is not as wealthy as we wish he was, it is not because the Tribune has not made his fortune, but because he did not keep it--because it went, as other people's money goes, to friends, to pay indorsements, and in bad investments.

"We had both been liberally, nay, generously, sustained by our party. Mr. Greeley differs with us in regarding patrons of newspapers as conferring favours. In giving them the worth of their money, he holds that the account is balanced. We, on the other hand, have ever held the relation of newspaper editor and subscriber as one of fraternity. Viewed in this aspect, the editors of the Tribune and Evening Journal have manifold reasons for cherishing grateful recollections of the liberal and abiding confidence and patronage of their party and friends.

"In conclusion, we cannot withhold an expression of sincere regret that this letter has been called out. After remaining six years in 'blissful ignorance' of its contents, we should have preferred to have ever remained so. It jars harshly upon cherished memories. It destroys ideals of disinterestedness and generosity which relieved political life from so much that is selfish, sordid, and rapacious."

Henry B. Stanton once asked Seward, directly, if he did not think it would have been better to let Greeley have office. "Mr. Seward looked at me intently, rolled out a cloud of tobacco smoke, and then slowly responded: 'I don't know but it would.'"[578] It is doubtful, however, if Seward ever forgave a New Yorker who contributed to his defeat. Lincoln spoke of him as "without gall," but Stanton declared him a good hater who lay in wait to punish his foes. Greeley, James S. Wadsworth, William Cullen Bryant, and David Dudley Field, conspicuously led the opposition, and if he failed to annihilate them all it is because some of them did not give him a chance to strike back. Greeley caught the first knockout blow in February, 1861; and in 1862, says Stanton, "he doubtless defeated James S. Wadsworth for governor of New York. Wadsworth, who was then military commander of Washington, told me that Seward was 'dead against him' all through the campaign."[579]

[Footnote 578: H.B. Stanton, Random Recollections, pp. 199, 200.]

[Footnote 579: Ibid., p. 216.]

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XXIV. THE FIGHT OF THE FUSIONISTS

1860

After the return of the Softs from Baltimore the condition of the Democratic party became a subject of much anxiety. Dean Richmond's persistent use of the unit rule had driven the Hards into open rebellion, and at a great mass-meeting, held at Cooper Institute and addressed by Daniel S. Dickinson, it was agreed to hold a Breckenridge and Lane state convention at Syracuse on August 8. At the appointed time three hundred delegates appeared, representing every county, but with the notable exception of the chairman, Henry S. Randall, the biographer of Thomas Jefferson, who had advocated the Wilmot Proviso in 1847, written the Buffalo platform in 1848, and opposed the fugitive slave law in 1850, practically all of them had steadily opposed the Free-soil influences of their party. To many it seemed strange, if not absolutely ludicrous, to hoist a pro-slavery flag in the Empire State. But Republicans welcomed the division of their opponents, and the Hards were terribly in earnest. They organised with due formality; spent two days in conference; adopted the pro-slavery platform of the seceders' convention amidst loud cheering; selected candidates for a state and electoral ticket with the care that precedes certain election; angrily denounced the leadership of Dean Richmond at Charleston and Baltimore; appointed a new state committee, and, with the usual assurance of determined men, claimed a large following.

The indomitable Dickinson, in a speech not unlike his Cooper Institute address, declared that Breckenridge, the regularly nominated candidate of seventeen States and portions of other States, would secure one hundred and twenty-seven electoral votes in the South and on the Pacific coast. This made the election, he argued, depend upon New York, and since Douglas would start without the hope of getting a single vote, it became the duty of every national Democrat to insist that the Illinoisan be withdrawn. People might scoff at this movement as "a cloud no bigger than a man's hand," he said, but it would grow in size and send forth a deluge that would refresh and purify the arid soil of politics. The applause that greeted this prophecy indicated faith in a principle that most people knew had outlived its day in the State; and, although Dickinson was always altogether on one side, it is scarcely credible that he could sincerely believe that New York would support Breckenridge, even if Douglas withdrew.

The Hards conjured with a few distinguished names which still gave them prestige. Charles O'Conor, Greene C. Bronson, and John A. Dix, as conservative, moderate leaders, undoubtedly had the confidence of many people, and their ticket, headed by James T. Brady, the brilliant lawyer, looked formidable. Personally, Brady was perhaps the most popular man in New York City; and had he stood upon other than a pro-slavery platform his support must have been generous. But the fact that he advocated the protection of slave property in the territories, although opposed to Buchanan's Lecompton policy, was destined to subject him to humiliating defeat.

The Softs met in convention on August 15. In numbers and noisy enthusiasm they did not seem to represent a larger following than the Hards, but their principles expressed the real sentiment of whatever was left of the rank and file of the Democratic party of the State. Horatio Seymour was the pivotal personage. Around him they rallied. The resolution indorsing Stephen A. Douglas and his doctrine of non-intervention very adroitly avoided quarrels. It accepted Fernando Wood's delegation on equal terms with Tammany; refused to notice the Hards' attack upon Dean Richmond and the majority of the Charleston delegation; and nominated William Kelley of Hudson for governor by acclamation. Kelley was a large farmer of respectable character and talents, who had served with credit in the State Senate and supported Van Buren in 1848 with the warmth of a sincere Free-soiler. He was evidently a man without guile, and, although modest and plain-spoken, he knew what the farmer and workingman most wanted, and addressed himself to their best thought. It was generally conceded that he would poll the full strength of his party.

But the cleverest act of the convention was its fusion with the Constitutional Union party. In the preceding May, the old-line Whigs and Know-Nothings had met at Baltimore and nominated John Bell of Tennessee for President and Edward Everett of Massachusetts for Vice President, on the simple platform: "The Constitution of the country, the union of the States, and the enforcement of the laws." Washington Hunt, the former governor of New York, had become the convention's president, and, in company with James Brooks and William Duer, he had arranged with the Softs to place on the Douglas electoral ticket ten representatives of the Union party, with William Kent, the popular son of the distinguished Chancellor, at their head.

Hunt had become a thorn in the side of his old friends, now the leading Republican managers. He had joined them as a Whig in the thirties. After sending him to Congress for three terms and making him comptroller of state in 1848, they had elected him governor in 1850; but, in the division of the party, he joined the Silver-Grays, failed of re-election in 1852, dropped into the American party in 1854, and supported Fillmore in 1856. Thurlow Weed thought he ought to have aided them in the formation of the Republican party, and Horace Greeley occasionally reminded him that a decent regard for consistency should impel him to act in accordance with his anti-slavery record; but when, in 1860, Hunt began the crusade that successfully fused the Douglas and Bell tickets in New York, thus seriously endangering the election of Abraham Lincoln, the Republican editors opened their batteries upon him with well-directed aim. In his one attempt to face these attacks, Hunt taunted Greeley with being "more dangerous to friend than to foe." To this the editor of the Tribune retorted: "When I was your friend, you were six times before the people as a candidate for most desirable offices, and in five of those six were successful, while you were repeatedly a candidate before and have been since, and always defeated. Possibly some have found me a dangerous friend, but you never did."[580]

[Footnote 580: New York Tribune, July 23, 1860.]

Hunt's coalition movement, called the "Syracuse juggle" and the "confusion ticket," did not work as smoothly as he expected. It gave rise to a bitter controversy which at once impaired its value. The Bell negotiators declared that the ten electors, if chosen, would be free to vote for their own candidate, while the Douglas mediators stated with emphasis that each elector was not only pledged by the resolution of the convention to support Douglas, but was required to give his consent to do so or allow another to fill his place. "We cannot tell which answer is right," said the New York Sun, "but it looks as if there were deception practised." The Tribune presented the ridiculous phase of it when it declared that the Bell electors were put up to catch the Know-Nothings, while the others would trap the Irish and Germans. "Is this the way," it asked, referring to William Kent and his associates, "in which honourable men who have characters to support, conduct political contests?"[581] To dissipate the confusion, Hunt explained that the defeat of Lincoln would probably throw the election into Congress, in which event Bell would become President. "But we declare, with the same frankness, that if Douglas, and not Bell, shall become President, we will welcome that result as greatly preferable to the success of sectional candidates."[582]

[Footnote 581: Ibid., July 14, 1860.]

[Footnote 582: Ibid., July 24, 1860.]

The Republican state convention which met at Syracuse on August 22, did not muffle its enthusiasm over the schism in the Democratic party. Seward and his friends had regained their composure. A midsummer trip to New England, chiefly for recreation, had brought great crowds about the Auburn statesmen wherever he appeared, and, encouraged by their enthusiastic devotion, he returned satisfied with the place he held in the hearts of Republicans. His followers, too, indicated their disappointment by no public word or sign. To the end of the convention its proceedings were marked by harmony and unanimity. Edwin D. Morgan was renominated for governor by acclamation; the platform of Chicago principles was adopted amidst prolonged cheers, and the selection of electors approved without dissent. The happy combination of the two electors-at-large, William Cullen Bryant and James O. Putnam, evidenced the spirit of loyalty to Abraham Lincoln that inspired all participants. Bryant had been an oracle of the radical democracy for more than twenty years, and had stubbornly opposed Seward; Putnam, a Whig of the school of Clay and Webster, had, until recently, zealously supported Millard Fillmore and the American party. In its eagerness to unite every phase of anti-slavery sentiment the convention buried the past in its desire to know, in the words of Seward, "whether this is a constitutional government under which we live."

During the campaign, Republican demonstrations glorified Lincoln's early occupation of rail-splitting, while the Wide-awakes, composed largely of young men who had studied the slavery question since 1852 solely as a moral issue, illuminated the night and aroused enthusiasm with their torches and expert marching. As early as in September, the New York Herald estimated that over four hundred thousand were already uniformed and drilled. In every town and village these organisations, unique then, although common enough nowadays, were conscious appeals for sympathy and favour, and undoubtedly contributed much to the result by enlisting the hearty support of first voters. Indeed, on the Republican side, it was largely a campaign of young men. "The Republican party," said Seward at Cleveland, "is a party chiefly of young men. Each successive year brings into its ranks an increasing proportion of the young men of this country."[583]

[Footnote 583: F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, p. 462. Seward's Works, Vol. 4, p. 384.]

Aside from the torch-light processions of the Wide-awakes, the almost numberless speeches were the feature of the canvass of 1860. There had, perhaps, been more exciting and enthusiastic campaigns, but the number of meetings was without precedent. The Tribune estimated that ten thousand set addresses were made in New York alone, and that the number in the country equalled all that had been made in previous presidential canvasses since 1789. It is likewise true that at no time in the history of the State did so many distinguished men take part in a campaign. Though the clergy were not so obtrusive as in 1856, Henry Ward Beecher and Edwin H. Chapin, the eminent Universalist, did not hesitate to deliver political sermons from their pulpits, closing their campaign on the Sunday evening before election.

But the New Yorker whom the Republican masses most desired to hear and see was William H. Seward. Accordingly, in the latter part of August he started on a five weeks' tour through the Western States, beginning at Detroit and closing at Cleveland. At every point where train or steamboat stopped, if only for fifteen minutes, thousands of people awaited his coming. The day he spoke in Chicago, it was estimated that two hundred thousand visitors came to that city. Rhodes suggests that "it was then he reached the climax of his career."[584]

[Footnote 584: "Seward filled the minds of Republicans, attracting such attention and honour, and arousing such enthusiasm, that the closing months of the campaign were the most brilliant epoch of his life. It was then he reached the climax of his career."--James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 2, p. 493.]

Seward's speeches contained nothing new, and in substance they resembled one another. But in freshness of thought and kaleidoscopic phraseology, they were attractive, full of eloquence, and of statesmanlike comment, lifting the campaign, then just opening, upon a high plane of political and moral patriotism. He avoided all personalities; he indicated no disappointment;[585] his praise of Lincoln was in excellent taste; and without evasion or concealment, but with a ripeness of experience that had mellowed and enlightened him, he talked of "higher law" and the "irrepressible conflict" in terms that made men welcome rather than fear their discussion. "Let this battle be decided in favour of freedom in the territories," he declared, "and not one slave will ever be carried into the territories of the United States, and that will end the irrepressible conflict."[586]

[Footnote 585: "Seward charged his defeat chiefly to Greeley. He felt toward that influential editor as much vindictiveness as was possible in a man of so amiable a nature. But he did not retire to his tent."--James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 2, p. 494.

"The magnanimity of Mr. Seward, since the result of the convention was known," wrote James Russell Lowell, "has been a greater ornament to him and a greater honour to his party than his election to the Presidency would have been."--Atlantic Monthly, October, 1860; Lowell's Political Essays, p. 34.]

[Footnote 586: F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, pp. 462-66.]

The growth and resources of the great Northwest, whose development he attributed to the exclusion of slave labour, seemed to inspire him with the hope and faith of youth, and he spoke of its reservation for freedom and its settlement and upbuilding in the critical moment of the country's history as providential, since it must rally the free States of the Atlantic coast to call back the ancient principles which had been abandoned by the government to slavery. "We resign to you," he said, "the banner of human rights and human liberty on this continent, and we bid you be firm, bold, and onward, and then you may hope that we will be able to follow you." It was in one of these moments of exaltation when he seemed to be lifted into the higher domain of prophecy that he made the prediction afterward realised by the Alaska treaty. "Standing here and looking far off into the Northwest," he said, "I see the Russian as he busily occupies himself in establishing seaports and towns and fortifications on the verge of this continent as the outposts of St. Petersburg, and I can say, 'Go on, and build up your outposts all along the coast, up even to the Arctic Ocean, for they will yet become the outposts of my own country--monuments of the civilisation of the United States in the Northwest."[587]

[Footnote 587: F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, p. 464.]

At the beginning of the canvass, Republican confidence and enthusiasm contrasted strangely with the apathy of the Democratic party, caused by its two tickets, two organisations, and two incompatible platforms. It was recognised early in the campaign that Douglas could carry no slave State unless it be Missouri; and, although the Douglas and Bell fusion awaked some hope, it was not until the fusion electoral ticket included supporters of Breckenridge that the struggle became vehement and energetic. New York's thirty-five votes were essential to the election of Lincoln, and early in September a determined effort began to unite the three parties against him. The Hards resisted the movement, but many merchants and capitalists of New York City, apprehensive of the dissolution of the Union if Lincoln were elected, and promising large sums of money to the campaign, forced the substitution of seven Breckenridge electors in place of as many Douglas supporters, giving Bell ten, Breckenridge seven, and Douglas eighteen. "It is understood," said the Tribune, "that four nabobs have already subscribed twenty-five thousand dollars each, and that one million is to be raised."[588]

[Footnote 588: New York Tribune, October 19, 1860.]

All this disturbed Lincoln. "I think there will be the most extraordinary effort ever made to carry New York for Douglas," he wrote Weed on August 17. "You and all others who write me from your State think the effort cannot succeed, and I hope you are right. Still, it will require close watching and great efforts on the other side."[589] After fusion did succeed, the Republican managers found encouragement in the fact that a majority of the Americans in the western part of the State,[590] following the lead of Putnam, belonged to the party of Lincoln, while the Germans gave comforting evidence of their support. On his return from the West Seward assured Lincoln "that this State will redeem all the pledges we have made."[591] Then came the October verdict from Pennsylvania and Indiana. "Emancipation or revolution is now upon us," said the Charleston Mercury.[592] Yet the hope of the New York fusionists, encouraged by a stock panic in Wall Street and by the unconcealed statement of Howell Cobb of Georgia, then secretary of the treasury, that Lincoln's election would be followed by disunion and a serious derangement of the financial interests of the country, kept the Empire State violently excited. It was reported in Southern newspapers that William B. Astor had contributed one million of dollars in aid of the fusion ticket.[593] It was a formidable combination of elements. Heretofore the Republican party had defeated them separately--now it met them as a united whole, when antagonisms, ceasing to be those of rational debate, had become those of fierce and furious passion. Greeley pronounced it "a struggle as intense, as vehement, and as energetic, as had ever been known," in New York.[594] Yet Thurlow Weed's confidence never wavered. "The fusion leaders have largely increased their fund," he wrote Lincoln, three days before the election, "and they are now using money lavishly. This stimulates and to some extent inspires confidence, and all the confederates are at work. Some of our friends are nervous. But I have no fear of the result in this State."[595]

[Footnote 589: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 297.]

[Footnote 590: "The names of eighty-one thousand New York men who voted for Fillmore in 1856 are inscribed on Republican poll-lists."--New York Tribune, September 11, 1860.]

[Footnote 591: F.W. Seward, Life of W.H. Seward, Vol. 2, p. 471.]

[Footnote 592: October 18, 1860.]

[Footnote 593: Charleston Mercury, cited by National Intelligencer, November 1, 1860; Richmond Enquirer, November 2.]

[Footnote 594: Horace Greeley, American Conflict, Vol. 1, p. 300.]

[Footnote 595: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 300.]

After the election, returns came in rapidly. Before midnight they foreshadowed Lincoln's success, and the next morning's Tribune estimated that the Republicans had carried the electoral and state tickets by 30,000 to 50,000, with both branches of the Legislature and twenty-three out of thirty-three congressmen. The official figures did not change this prophecy, except to fix Lincoln's majority at 50,136 and Morgan's plurality at 63,460. Lincoln received 4374 votes more than Morgan, but Kelley ran 27,698 behind the fusion electoral ticket, showing that the Bell and Everett men declined to vote for the Softs' candidate for governor. Brady's total vote, 19,841, marked the pro-slavery candidate's small support, leaving Morgan a clear majority of 43,619.[596] "Mr. Dickinson and myself," said James T. Brady, six years later, in his tribute to the former's memory, "belonged to the small, despairing band in this State who carried into the political contest of the North, for the last time, the flag of the South, contending that the South should enjoy to the utmost, and with liberal recognition, all the rights she could fairly claim under the Constitution of the United States. How small that band was all familiar with the political history of this State can tell."[597]

[Footnote 596: Edwin D. Morgan, 358,272; William Kelley, 294,812; James T. Brady, 19,841.--Civil List, State of New York (1887), p. 166.]

[Footnote 597: Address at Bar meeting in New York City upon death of Daniel S. Dickinson.]

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

XXV. GREELEY, WEED, AND SECESSION

1860-1861

Upon the election of Lincoln in November, 1860, South Carolina almost immediately gave evidence of its purpose to secede from the Union. Democrats generally, and many supporters of Bell and Everett, had deemed secession probable in the event of Republican success--a belief so fully shared by the authorities at Washington, who understood the Southern people, that General Scott, then at the head of the army, wrote to President Buchanan before the end of October, advising that forts in all important Southern seaports be strengthened to avoid capture by surprise. On the other hand, the Republicans had regarded Southern threats as largely buncombe. They had been heard in 1820, in 1850, and so frequently in debate leading up to the contest in 1860, that William H. Seward, the most powerful leader of opinion in his party, had declared: "These hasty threats of disunion are so unnatural that they will find no hand to execute them."[598]

[Footnote 598: Speech of February 29, 1860: Seward's Works, Vol. 4, p. 619.]

Nevertheless, when, on November 16, the South Carolina Legislature passed an act calling a convention to meet on December 17, the Republicans, still enthusiastic over their success, began seriously to consider the question of disunion. "Do you think the South will secede?" became as common a salutation as "Good-morning;" and, although a few New Yorkers, perhaps, gave the indifferent reply of Henry Ward Beecher--"I don't believe they will; and I don't care if they do"[599]--the gloom and uncertainty which hung over business circles made all anxious to hear from the leaders of their party. Heretofore, Horace Greeley, Thurlow Weed, and William H. Seward, backed by Henry J. Raymond of the New York Times and James Watson Webb of the Courier, had been quick to meet any emergency, and their followers now looked to them for direction.

[Footnote 599: New York Tribune, November 30, 1860. The quotation is from an address delivered in Boston.]

Horace Greeley was admittedly the most influential Republican journalist. He had not always agreed with the leaders, and just now an open break existed in the relations of himself and the powerful triumvirate headed by Thurlow Weed; but Greeley had voiced the sentiment of the rank and file of his party more often than he had misstated it, and the Tribune readers naturally turned to their prophet for a solution of the pending trouble. As usual, he had an opinion. The election occurred on November 6, and on the 9th he declared that "if the cotton States shall decide that they can do better out of the Union than in it, we insist on letting them go in peace. The right to secede may be a revolutionary one, but it exists nevertheless.... Whenever a considerable section of our Union shall deliberately resolve to go out, we shall resist all coercive measures designed to keep it in. We hope never to live in a republic, whereof one section is pinned to the residue by bayonets."[600] Two weeks later, on November 26, he practically repeated these views. "If the cotton States unitedly and earnestly wish to withdraw peacefully from the Union, we think they should and would be allowed to go. Any attempt to compel them by force to remain would be contrary to the principles enunciated in the immortal Declaration of Independence, contrary to the fundamental ideas on which human liberty is based."[601] As late as December 17, when South Carolina and other Southern States were on the threshold of secession, Greeley declared that "if the Declaration of Independence justified the secession from the British Empire of three millions of colonists in 1776, we do not see why it should not justify the secession of five millions of Southrons from the Union in 1861."[602] In January, he recanted in a measure. Yet, on February 23, he announced that "Whenever it shall be clear that the great body of the Southern people have become conclusively alienated from the Union, and anxious to escape from it, we will do our best to forward their views."[603]

[Footnote 600: New York Tribune, November 9, 1860.]

[Footnote 601: Ibid., November 26.]

[Footnote 602: New York Tribune, December 17.]

[Footnote 603: Ibid., February 23.]

Henry Ward Beecher[604] and the Garrison Abolitionists[605] also inclined to this view; and, in November and December, a few Republicans, because of a general repugnance to the coercion of a State, did not despise it. Naturally, however, the Greeley policy did not please the great bulk of Lincoln's intelligent supporters. The belief obtained that, the election having been fair and constitutional, the South ought to submit to the decision as readily as Northern Democrats acquiesced in it. Besides, a spontaneous feeling existed that the United States was a nation, that secession was treason, and seceders were traitors. Such people sighed for "an hour of Andrew Jackson;" and, to supply the popular demand, Jackson's proclamation against the nullifiers, written by Edward Livingston, a native of New York, then secretary of state, was published in a cheap and convenient edition. To the readers of such literature Greeley's peaceable secession seemed like the erratic policy of an eccentric thinker, and its promulgation, especially when it began giving comfort and encouragement to the South, contributed not a little to the defeat of its author for the United States Senate in the following February.

[Footnote 604: Ibid., November 30. "In so far as the Free States are concerned," he said, "I hold that it will be an advantage for the South to go off."]

[Footnote 605: The Liberator, November and December.]

Thurlow Weed also had a plan, which quickly attracted the attention of people in the South as well as in the North. He held that suggestions of compromise which the South could accept might be proposed without dishonour to the victors in the last election, and, in several carefully written editorials in the Evening Journal, he argued in favour of restoring the old line of the Missouri Compromise, and of substituting for the fugitive slave act, payment for rescued slaves by the counties in which the violation of law occurred. "When we refer, as we often do, triumphantly to the example of England," he said, "we are prone to forget that emancipation and compensation were provisions of the same act of Parliament."[606]

[Footnote 606: Albany Evening Journal, November 26, 1860.]

Weed was now sixty-three years of age--not an old man, and of little less energy than in 1824, when he drove about the State in his first encounter with Martin Van Buren. The success of the views he had fearlessly maintained, in defiance of menacing opponents, had been achieved in full measure, and he had reason to be proud of his conspicuous part in the result; but now, in the presence of secession which threatened the country because of that success, he seemed suddenly to revolt against the policy he himself had fostered. As his biographer expressed it, "he cast aside the weapons which none could wield so well,"[607] and, betraying the influences of his early training under the great Whig leaders, began to show his love for the Union after the manner of Clay and Webster.

[Footnote 607: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 306.]

Weed outlined his policy with rare skill, hoping that the discussion provoked by it might result in working out some plan to avoid disunion.[608] Raymond, in the Times, and Webb in the Courier, gave it cordial support; the leading New York business men of all parties expressed themselves favourable to conciliation and compromise. "I can assure you," wrote August Belmont to Governor Sprague of Rhode Island, on December 13, "that all the leaders of the Republican party in our State and city, with a few exceptions of the ultra radicals, are in favour of concessions, and that the popular mind of the North is ripe for them." On December 19 he wrote again: "Last evening I was present at an informal meeting of about thirty gentlemen, comprising our leading men, Republicans, Union men, and Democrats, composed of such names as Astor, Aspinwall, Moses H. Grinnell, Hamilton Fish, R.M. Blatchford, &c. They were unanimous in their voice for reconciliation, and that the first steps have to be taken by the North."[609]

[Footnote 608: Albany Evening Journal, December 1, 1860.]

[Footnote 609: Letters of August Belmont, privately printed, pp. 15, 16.]

Belmont undoubtedly voiced the New York supporters of Douglas, Breckenridge, and Bell, and many conservative Republicans, representing the business interests of the great metropolis; but the bulk of the Republicans did not like a plan that overthrew the cornerstone of their party, which had won on its opposition to the extension of slavery into free territory. To go back to the line of 36° 30´, permitting slavery to the south of it, meant the loss of all that had been gained, and a renewal of old issues and hostilities in the near future. Republican congressmen from the State, almost without exception, yielded to this view, voicing the sentiment that it was vain to temporise longer with compromises. With fluent invective, James B. McKean of Saratoga assailed the South in a speech that recalled the eloquence of John W. Taylor, his distinguished predecessor, who, in 1820, led the forces of freedom against the Missouri Compromise. "The slave-holders," he said, "have been fairly defeated in a presidential election. They now demand that the victors shall concede to the vanquished all that the latter have ever claimed, and vastly more than they could secure when they themselves were victors. They take their principles in one hand, and the sword in the other, and reaching out the former they say to us, 'Take these for your own, or we will strike.'"[610]

[Footnote 610: Congressional Globe, 1860-61, Appendix, p. 221. "Never, with my consent, shall the Constitution ordain or protect human slavery in any territory. Where it exists by law I will recognise it, but never shall it be extended over one acre of free territory." Speech of James Humphrey of Brooklyn.--Ibid., p. 158. "Why should we now make any concessions to them? With our experience of the little importance attached to former compromises by the South, it is ridiculous to talk about entering into another. The restoration of the Missouri line, with the protection of slavery south of it, will not save the Union." Speech of John B. Haskin of Fordham.--Ibid., p. 264. "The people of the North regard the election of Mr. Lincoln as the assurance that the day of compromise has ended; that henceforth slavery shall have all the consideration which is constitutionally due it and no more; that freedom shall have all its rights recognised and respected." Speech of Charles L. Beale of Kinderhook.--Ibid., p. 974. "We of the North are called upon to save the Union by making concessions and giving new guarantees to the South.... But I am opposed to tinkering with the Constitution, especially in these exciting times. I am satisfied with it as it is." Speech of Alfred Ely of Rochester.--Ibid., Appendix, p. 243. "I should be opposed to any alteration of the Constitution which would extend the area of slavery." Speech of Luther C. Carter of Flushing.--Ibid., p. 278. "I am opposed to all changes in the Constitution whatever." Edwin R. Reynolds of Albion.--Ibid., p. 1008.]

Nevertheless, Weed kept at work. In an elaborate article, he suggested a "Convention of the people consisting of delegates appointed by the States, to which North and South might bring their respective griefs, claims, and reforms to a common arbitrament, to meet, discuss, and determine upon a future. It will be said that we have done nothing wrong, and have nothing to offer. This is precisely why we should both purpose and offer whatever may, by possibility, avert the evils of civil war and prevent the destruction of our hitherto unexampled blessings of Union."[611]

[Footnote 611: Albany Evening Journal, November 30, 1860.]

Preston King, the junior United States senator from New York, clearly voicing the sentiment of the majority of his party in Congress and out of it, bitterly opposed such a policy. "It cannot be done," he wrote Weed, on December 7. "You must abandon your position. It will prove distasteful to the majority of those whom you have hitherto led. You and Seward should be among the foremost to brandish the lance and shout for joy."[612] To this the famous editor, giving a succinct view of his policy, replied with his usual directness. "I have not dreamed of anything inconsistent with Republican duty. We owe our existence as a party to the repeal of the Missouri Compromise. But for the ever blind spirit of slavery, Buchanan would have taken away our ammunition and spiked our guns. The continued blindness of Democracy and the continued madness of slavery enabled us to elect Lincoln. That success ends our mission so far as Kansas and the encroachments of slavery into free territory are concerned. We have no territory that invites slavery for any other than political objects, and with the power of territorial organisation in the hands of Lincoln, there is no political temptation in all the territory belonging to us. The fight is over. Practically, the issues of the late campaign are obsolete. If the Republican members of Congress stand still, we shall have a divided North and a united South. If they move promptly, there will be a divided South and a united North."[613]

[Footnote 612: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 309.]

[Footnote 613: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 309.]

It is not, perhaps, surprising that Weed found so much to say in favour of his proposition, since the same compromise and the same arguments were made use of a few weeks later by no less a person than the venerable John J. Crittenden of Kentucky, the Nestor of the United States Senate. Crittenden was ten years older than Weed, and, like him, was actuated by sincere patriotism. Although his compromise contained six proposed amendments to the Constitution, it was believed that all differences between the sections could easily be adjusted after the acceptance of the first article, which recognised slavery as existing south of latitude 36° 30´, and pledged it protection "as property by all the departments of the territorial government during its continuance." The article also provided that States should be admitted from territory either north or south of that line, with or without slavery, as their constitutions might declare.[614] This part of the compromise was not new to Congress or to the country. It had been made, on behalf of the South, in 1847, and defeated by a vote of 114 to 82, only four Northern Democrats sustaining it. It was again defeated more decisively in 1848, when proposed by Douglas. "Thus the North," wrote Greeley, "under the lead of the Republicans, was required, in 1860, to make, on pain of civil war, concessions to slavery which it had utterly refused when divided only between the conservative parties of a few years before."[615]

[Footnote 614: The full text of the Crittenden compromise is given in the Congressional Globe, 1861, p. 114; also in Horace Greeley's American Conflict, Vol. 1, p. 376.]

[Footnote 615: Horace Greeley, The American Conflict, Vol. 1, pp. 378, 379.]

Nevertheless, the Crittenden proposition invoked the same influences that supported the Weed plan. "I would most cheerfully accept it," wrote John A. Dix. "I feel a strong confidence that we could carry three-fourths of the States in favour of it as an amendment to the Constitution."[616] August Belmont said he had "yet to meet the first conservative Union-loving man, in or out of politics, who does not approve of your compromise propositions.... In our own city and State some of the most prominent men are ready to follow the lead of Weed. Restoration of the Missouri line finds favour with most of the conservative Republicans, and their number is increasing daily."[617] Belmont, now more than earlier in the month, undoubtedly expressed a ripening sentiment that was fostered by the gloomy state of trade, creating feverish conditions in the stock market, forcing New York banks to issue clearing-house certificates, and causing a marked decline in the Republican vote at the municipal election in Hudson.[618] Indeed, there is abundant evidence that the Crittenden proposition, if promptly carried out in December, might have resulted in peace. The Senate committee of thirteen to whom it was referred--consisting of two senators from the cotton States, three from the border States, three Northern Democrats, and five Republicans--decided that no report should be adopted unless it had the assent of a majority of the Republicans, and also a majority of the eight other members. Six of the eight voted for it. All the Republicans, and Jefferson Davis and Robert Toombs, representing the cotton States, voted against it. The evidence however, is almost convincing that Davis and Toombs would have supported it in December if the Republicans had voted for it. In speeches in the open Senate, Douglas declared it,[619] Toombs admitted it,[620] and Davis implied it.[621] Seward sounds the only note of their insincerity. "I think," he said, in a letter to the President-elect, "that Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana could not be arrested, even if we should offer all you suggest, and with it the restoration of the Missouri Compromise line. But persons acting for those States intimate that they might be so arrested, because they think that the Republicans are not going to concede the restoration of that line."[622] It is likely Seward hesitated to believe that his vote against the compromise, for whatever reason it was given, helped to inaugurate hostilities; and yet nothing is clearer, in spite of his letter to Lincoln, than that in December the Republicans defeated the Crittenden compromise, the adoption of which would have prevented civil war.[623]

[Footnote 616: Coleman, Life of John J. Crittenden, Vol. 2, p. 237.]

[Footnote 617: Letters of August Belmont, privately printed, p. 24.]

[Footnote 618: Horace Greeley, The American Conflict, Vol. 1, p. 362.]

[Footnote 619: "In the committee of thirteen, a few days ago, every member from the South, including those from the cotton States, expressed their readiness to accept the proposition of my venerable friend from Kentucky as a final settlement of the controversy, if tendered and sustained by the Republican members." Douglas in the Senate, January 3, 1861.--Congressional Globe, Appendix, p. 41.]

[Footnote 620: "I said to the committee of thirteen, and I say here, that, with other satisfactory provisions, I would accept it." Toombs in the Senate, January 7, 1861.--Globe, p. 270. "I can confirm the Senator's declaration that Senator Davis himself, when on the committee of thirteen, was ready, at all times, to compromise on the Crittenden proposition. I will go further and say that Mr. Toombs was also." Douglas in the Senate, March 2, 1861.--Globe, p. 1391.]

[Footnote 621: See Davis's speech of January 10, 1861. Congressional Globe, p. 310.]

[Footnote 622: Nicolay and Hay, Abraham Lincoln, Vol. 3, p. 263. Letter to Lincoln, December 26, 1860.]

[Footnote 623: James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 3, p. 155.]

In deference to the wishes of Lincoln and of his friends, who were grooming him for United States senator, Greeley, before the end of December, had, in a measure, given up his damaging doctrine of peaceable secession, and accepted the "no compromise" policy, laid down by Benjamin F. Wade, as "the only true, the only honest, the only safe doctrine."[624] It was necessary to Greeley's position just then, and to the stage of development which his candidacy had reached, that he should oppose Weed's compromise. On the 22d of December, therefore, he wrote the President-elect: "I fear nothing, care for nothing, but another disgraceful backdown of the free States. That is the only real danger. Let the Union slide--it may be reconstructed; let Presidents be assassinated--we can elect more; let the Republicans be defeated and crushed--we shall rise again. But another nasty compromise, whereby everything is conceded and nothing secured, will so thoroughly disgrace and humiliate us that we can never raise our heads, and this country becomes a second edition of the Barbary States, as they were sixty years ago. 'Take any form but that.'"[625] On the same day the Tribune announced that "Mr. Lincoln is utterly opposed to any concession or compromise that shall yield one iota of the position occupied by the Republican party on the subject of slavery in the territories, and that he stands now, as he stood in May last, when he accepted the nomination for the Presidency, square upon the Chicago platform."[626] Thus Lincoln had reassured Greeley's shrinking faith, and thenceforward his powerful journal took a more healthy and hopeful tone.[627]

[Footnote 624: New York Tribune, December 19, 1860.]

[Footnote 625: Nicolay and Hay, Abraham Lincoln, Vol. 3, p. 258.]

[Footnote 626: New York Tribune, December 22, 1860.]

[Footnote 627: Nicolay and Hay, Abraham Lincoln, Vol. 3, p. 258.]

Meantime, Weed laboured for the Crittenden compromise. He went to Washington, interviewed Republican members of Congress, and finally visited Lincoln at Springfield. Tickling the ear with a pleasing sentiment and alliteration, he wanted Republicans, he said, "to meet secession as patriots and not as partisans."[628] He especially urged forbearance and concession out of consideration for Union men in Southern States. "Apprehending that we should be called upon to test the strength of the Government," he wrote, on January 9, 1861, "we saw, what is even more apparent now, that the effort would tax all its faculties and strain all its energies. Hence our desire before the trial came to make up a record that would challenge the approval of the world. This was due not less to ourselves than to the Union men of Southern States, who, with equal patriotism and more of sacrifice, amidst the pitiless peltings of the disunion storm, sought, like the dove sent out from the ark, a dry spot on which to set their feet."[629]

[Footnote 628: Ibid., p. 261.]

[Footnote 629: Albany Evening Journal, January 9, 1861.]

Weed's sincerity remained unquestioned, and his opinion, so ardently supported outside his party, would probably have had weight within his party under other conditions; but the President-elect, with his mind inflexibly made up on the question of extending slavery into the territories, refused to yield the cardinal principle of the Chicago platform. "Entertain no proposition for a compromise in regard to the extension of slavery," he wrote, December 11, to William Kellogg, a member of Congress from Illinois. "The instant you do, they have us under again; all our labour is lost, and sooner or later must be done over.... The tug has to come, and better now than later. You know I think the fugitive slave clause of the Constitution ought to be enforced--to put it in its mildest form, ought not to be resisted."[630] Two days later, in a letter to E.B. Washburne, also an Illinois member of Congress, he objected to the scheme for restoring the Missouri Compromise line. "Let that be done and immediately filibustering and extending slavery recommences. On that point hold firm as a chain of steel."[631] To Weed himself, on December 17, he repeated the same idea in almost the identical language.[632]

[Footnote 630: Nicolay and Hay, Abraham Lincoln, Vol. 3, p. 259.]

[Footnote 631: Ibid., Vol. 3, p. 259.]

[Footnote 632: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, pp. 310, 311.]

Thurlow Weed was a journalist of pre-eminent ability, and, although a strenuous, hard hitter, who gave everybody as much sport as he wanted, he was a fair fighter, whom the bitterest critics of the radical Republican press united in praising for his consistency; but his epigrams and incisive arguments, sending a vibrating note of earnestness across the Alleghanies, could not move the modest and, as yet, unknown man of the West, who, unswayed by the fears of Wall Street, and the teachings of the great Whig compromisers, saw with a statesman's clearness the principle that explained the reason for his party's existence.

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XXVI. SEYMOUR AND THE PEACE DEMOCRATS

1860-1861

While the contest over secession was raising its crop of disturbance and disorder at Washington, newspapers and politicians in the North continued to discuss public questions from their party standpoints. Republicans inveighed against the madness of pro-slavery leaders, Democrats berated Republicans as the responsible authors of the perils darkening the national skies, and Bell men sought for a compromise. Four days after the election of Lincoln, the Albany Argus clearly and temperately expressed the view generally taken of the secession movement by Democratic journals of New York. "We are not at all surprised at the manifestations of feeling at the South," it said. "We expected and predicted it; and for so doing were charged by the Republican press with favouring disunion; while, in fact, we simply correctly appreciated the feeling of that section of the Union. We sympathise with and justify the South, as far as this--their rights have been invaded to the extreme limit possible within the forms of the Constitution; and, if we deemed it certain that the real animus of the Republican party could become the permanent policy of the nation, we should think that all the instincts of self-preservation and of manhood rightfully impelled them to resort to revolution and a separation from the Union, and we would applaud them and wish them God-speed in the adoption of such a remedy."[633]

[Footnote 633: Albany Argus, November 10, 1860. On November 12 the Rochester Union argued that the threatened secession of the slave States was but a counterpoise of the personal liberty bills and other measures of antagonism to slave-holding at the North. See, also, the New York Herald, November 9.]

This was published in the heat of party conflict and Democratic defeat, when writers assumed that a compromise, if any adjustment was needed, would, of course, be forthcoming as in 1850. A little later, as conditions became more threatening, the talk of peaceable secession growing out of a disinclination to accept civil war, commended itself to persons who thought a peaceful dissolution of the Union, if the slave-holding South should seek it, preferable to such an alternative.[634] But as the spectre of dismemberment of the nation came nearer, concessions to the South as expressed in the Weed plan, and, later, in the Crittenden compromise, commended itself to a large part of the people. A majority of the voters at the preceding election undoubtedly favoured such an adjustment. The votes cast for Douglas, Bell, and Breckenridge in the free States, with one-fourth of those cast for Lincoln, and one-fourth for Breckenridge in the slave States, making 2,848,792 out of a total of 4,662,170, said a writer in Appleton's Cyclopædia, "were overwhelmingly in favour of conciliation, forbearance, and compromise."[635] Rhodes, the historian, approving this estimate, expresses the belief that the Crittenden compromise, if submitted to the people, would have commanded such a vote.[636]

[Footnote 634: Morgan Dix, Memoirs of John A. Dix, Vol. 1, p. 338.]

[Footnote 635: Appleton's Cyclopædia, 1861, p. 700.]

[Footnote 636: James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 3, p. 261, note.]

In the closing months of 1860, and the opening months of 1861, this belief dominated the Democratic party as well as a large number of conservative Republicans; but, as the winter passed without substantial progress toward an effective compromise, the cloud of trouble assumed larger proportions and an alarmist spirit spread abroad. After Major Anderson, on the night of December 27, had transferred his command from its exposed position at Fort Moultrie to the stronger one at Fort Sumter, it was not uncommon to hear upon the streets disloyal sentiments blended with those of willing sacrifice to maintain the Union. This condition was accentuated by the action of the Legislature, which convened on January 2, 1861, with twenty-three Republicans and nine Democrats in the Senate, and ninety-three Republicans and thirty-five Democrats in the House. In his message, Governor Morgan urged moderation and conciliation. "Let New York," he said, "set an example; let her oppose no barrier, but let her representatives in Congress give ready support to any just and honourable sentiment; let her stand in hostility to none, but extend the hand of friendship to all, cordially uniting with other members of the Confederacy in proclaiming and enforcing a determination that the Constitution shall be honoured and the Union of the States be preserved."

On January 7, five days after this dignified and conservative appeal, Fernando Wood, imitating the example of South Carolina, advocated the secession of the city from the State. "Why should not New York City," said the Mayor, as if playing the part of a satirist, "instead of supporting by her contributions in revenue two-thirds of the expenses of the United States, become, also, equally independent? As a free city, with a nominal duty on imports, her local government could be supported without taxation upon her people.... Thus we could live free from taxes, and have cheap goods nearly duty free.... When disunion has become a fixed and certain fact, why may not New York disrupt the bands which bind her to a venal and corrupt master--to a people and a party that have plundered her revenues, attempted to ruin her commerce, taken away the power of self-government, and destroyed the confederacy of which she was the proud empire city."[637]

[Footnote 637: Proceedings of the Board of Aldermen, LXXXI: p. 25, 26. New York Herald, January 8.]

By order of a sympathising common council, this absurd message, printed in pamphlet form, was distributed among the people. Few, however, took it seriously. "Fernando Wood," said the Tribune, "evidently wants to be a traitor; it is lack of courage only that makes him content with being a blackguard."[638] The next day Confederate forts fired upon the Star of the West while endeavouring to convey troops and supplies to Fort Sumter.

[Footnote 638: New York Tribune, January 8, 1861.]

The jar of the Mayor's message and the roar of hostile guns were quickly followed by the passage, through the Legislature, of a concurrent resolution, tendering the President "whatever aid in men and money may be required to enable him to enforce the laws and uphold the authority of the Federal Government; and that, in the defence of the Union, which has conferred prosperity and happiness upon the American people, renewing the pledge given and redeemed by our fathers, we are ready to devote our fortunes, our lives, and our sacred honour."[639] This resolution undoubtedly expressed the overwhelming preponderance of sentiment in the State,[640] but its defiant tone, blended with the foolish words of Wood and the menacing act of South Carolina, called forth greater efforts for compromise, to the accomplishment of which a mammoth petition, signed by the leading business men of the State, was sent to Congress, praying that "measures, either of direct legislation or of amendment of the Constitution, may be speedily adopted, which, we are assured, will restore peace to our agitated country."[641]

[Footnote 639: Appleton's Cyclopædia, 1861, p. 700.]

[Footnote 640: "The whole people in this part of the country are waiting with impatience for your assumption of the great office to which the suffrage of a free people has called you, and will hail you as a deliverer from treason and anarchy. In New York City all classes and parties are rapidly uniting in this sentiment, and here in Albany, where I am spending a few days in attendance upon Court, the general tone of feeling and thinking about public affairs shows little difference between Republicans and Democrats."--W.M. Evarts to Abraham Lincoln, January 15, 1861. Unpublished letter on file in Department of State at Washington.]

[Footnote 641: Appleton's Cyclopædia, 1861, p. 520.]

On January 18, a meeting of the merchants of New York City, held in the Chamber of Commerce, unanimously adopted a memorial, addressed to Congress, urging the acceptance of the Crittenden compromise. Similar action to maintain peace in an honourable way was taken in other cities of the State, while congressmen were daily loaded with appeals favouring any compromise that would keep the peace. Among other petitions of this character, Elbridge G. Spaulding presented one from Buffalo, signed by Millard Fillmore, Henry W. Rogers, and three thousand others. On January 24, Governor Morgan received resolutions, passed by the General Assembly of Virginia, inviting the State, through its Legislature, to send commissioners to a peace conference to be held at Washington on February 4. Nothing had occurred in the intervening weeks to change the sentiment of the Legislature, expressed earlier in the session; but, after much discussion and many delays, it was resolved, in acceding to the request of Virginia, that "it is not to be understood that this Legislature approves of the propositions submitted, or concedes the propriety of their adoption by the proposed convention. But while adhering to the position she has heretofore occupied, New York will not reject an invitation to a conference, which, by bringing together the men of both sections, holds out the possibility of an honourable settlement of our national difficulties, and the restoration of peace and harmony to the country."

The balloting for commissioners resulted in the election of David Dudley Field, William Curtis Noyes, James S. Wadsworth, James C. Smith, Amaziah B. James, Erastus Corning, Francis Granger, Greene C. Bronson, William E. Dodge, John A. King, and John E. Wool, with the proviso, however, that they were to take no part in the proceedings unless a majority of the non-slave-holding States were represented. The appearance of Francis Granger upon the commission was the act of Thurlow Weed. Granger, happy in his retirement at Canandaigua, had been out of office and out of politics so many years that, as he said in a letter to the editor of the Evening Journal, "it is with the greatest repugnance that I think of again appearing before the public."[642] But Weed urged him, and Granger accepted "the flattering honour."[643] Thus, after many years of estrangement, the leader of the Woolies clasped hands again with the chief of the Silver-Grays.

[Footnote 642: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 317.]

[Footnote 643: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 318.]

Though a trifling event in itself, the detention of thirty-eight boxes of muskets by the New York police kept the people conscious of the strained relations between the States. The ownership of the guns, left for shipment to Savannah, would ordinarily have been promptly settled in a local court; but the detention now became an affair of national importance, involving the governors of two States and leading to the seizure of half a dozen merchant vessels lying peacefully at anchor in Savannah harbour. Instead of entering the courts, the consignor telegraphed the consignees of the "seizure," the consignees notified Governor Brown of Georgia, and the Governor wired Governor Morgan of New York, demanding their immediate release. Receiving no reply to his message, Brown, in retaliation, ordered the seizure of all vessels at Savannah belonging to citizens of New York. Although Governor Morgan gave the affair no attention beyond advising the vessel owners that their rights must be prosecuted in the United States courts, the shipment of the muskets and the release of the vessels soon closed the incident; but Brown's indecent zeal to give the episode an international character by forcing into notice the offensive assumption of an independent sovereignty, had much influence in hardening the "no compromise" attitude of many Northern people.

Nevertheless, the men of New York who desired peace on any honourable terms, seemed to grow more earnest as the alarm in the public mind became more intense. South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Louisiana, and Mississippi had now seceded, and, as a last appeal to them, a monster and notable Union meeting, held at Cooper Institute on January 28 and addressed by eminent men of all parties, designated James T. Brady, Cornelius K. Garrison, and Appleton Oaksmith, as commissioners to confer with delegates to the conventions of these seceding States "in regard to measures best calculated to restore the peace and integrity of this Union."[644] Scarcely had the meeting adjourned, however, before John A. Dix, as secretary of the treasury, thrilled the country by his fearless and historic dispatch, "If any one attempts to haul down the American flag, shoot him on the spot."

[Footnote 644: Appleton's Cyclopædia, 1861, p. 520.]

Dix had brought to the Cabinet the training of a soldier and of a wise, prudent, sagacious statesman of undaunted courage and integrity. With the exception of his connection with the Barnburners in 1848, he had been an exponent of the old Democratic traditions, and, next to Horatio Seymour, did more, probably, than any other man to bring about a reunion of his party in 1852. Nevertheless, the Southern politicians never forgave him. President Pierce offered him the position of secretary of state, and then withdrew it with the promise of sending him as minister to France; but the South again defeated him. From that time until his appointment as postmaster of New York, following the discovery, in May, 1860, of Isaac V. Fowler's colossal defalcation,[645] Dix had taken little part in politics. If the President, however, needed a man of his ability and honesty in the crisis precipitated by Fowler's embezzlement, such characteristics were more in demand, in January, 1861, at the treasury, when the government was compelled to pay twelve per cent. for a loan of five millions, while New York State sevens were taken at an average of 101-1/4.[646] Bankers refused longer to furnish money until the Cabinet contained men upon whom the friends of the government and the Union could rely, and Buchanan, yielding to the inevitable, appointed the man clearly indicated by the financiers.[647]

[Footnote 645: Fowler, who was appointed postmaster of New York by President Pierce, began a system of embezzlements in 1855, which amounted, at the time of his removal, to $155,000.--Report of Postmaster-General Holt, Senate Document, 36th Congress, 1st Session, XI., 48. "In one year Fowler's bill at the New York Hotel, which he made the Democratic headquarters, amounted to $25,000. His brother, John Walker Fowler, clerk to Surrogate Tucker, subsequently absconded with $31,079, belonging to orphans and others."--Gustavus Myers, History of Tammany Hall, pp. 232, 233.]

[Footnote 646: John Jay Knox, United States Notes, p. 76.]

[Footnote 647: New York Evening Post, December 26, 1860.

"On Tuesday, January 8, my father received a dispatch from the President to come at once to the White House. He went immediately and was offered the War Department. This he declined, informing Mr. Buchanan, as had been agreed upon, that at that moment he could be of no service to him in any position except that of the Treasury Department, and that he would accept no other post. The President asked for time. The following day he had Mr. Philip Thomas's resignation in his hand, and sent General Dix's name to the Senate. It was instantly confirmed."--Morgan Dix, Memoirs of John A. Dix, Vol. 1, p. 362.]

Although now sixty-three years old, with the energy and pluck of his soldier days, Dix had no ambition to be in advance of his party. He favoured the Crittenden compromise, advocated Southern rights under the limits of the Constitution, and wrote to leaders in the South with the familiarity of an old friend. "I recall occasions," wrote his son, "when my father spoke to me on the questions of the day, disclosing the grave trouble that possessed his thoughts. On one such occasion he referred to the possibility that New York might become a free city, entirely independent, in case of a general breakup;[648] not that he advocated the idea, but he placed it in the category of possibilities. It was his opinion that a separation, if sought by the South through peaceful means alone, must be conceded by the North, as an evil less than that of war.... Above all else, however, next to God, he loved the country and the flag. He did everything in his power to avert the final catastrophe. But when the question was reduced to that simple, lucid proposition presented by the leaders of secession, he had but one answer, and gave it with an emphasis and in words which were as lightning coming out of the east and shining even unto the west."[649]

[Footnote 648: The plan advocated by Fernando Wood in his annual message to the Common Council, referred to on p. 348.]

[Footnote 649: Morgan Dix, Memoirs of John A. Dix, Vol. 1, pp. 336, 343.]

From the day of his appointment to the Treasury to the end of the Administration, Dix resided at the White House as the guest of the President, and under his influence, coupled with that of Black, Holt, and Stanton, Buchanan assumed a more positive tone in dealing with secession. Heretofore, with the exception of Major Anderson's movements at Fort Sumter, and Lieutenant Slemmer's daring act at Fort Pickens, the seizure of federal property had gone on without opposition or much noise; but now, at last, a prominent New Yorker, well known to every public man in the State, had flashed a patriotic order into the heart of the Southern Confederacy, startling the country into a realising sense of the likelihood of civil war.

In the midst of this excitement, a state convention, called by the Democratic state committee and composed of four delegates from each assembly district, representing the party of Douglas, of Breckenridge, and of Bell and Everett, assembled at Albany on January 31. Tweddle Hall was scarcely large enough to contain those who longed to be present at this peace conference. Of the prominent public men of the Commonwealth belonging to the three parties, the major part seemed to make up the assemblage, which Greeley pronounced "the strongest and most imposing ever convened within the State."[650] On the platform sat Horatio Seymour, Amasa J. Parker, and William Kelley, the Softs' recent candidate for governor, while half a hundred men flanked them on either side, who had been chosen to seats in Congress, in the Legislature, and to other places of honour. "No convention which had nominations to make, or patronage to dispose of, was ever so influentially constituted."[651]

[Footnote 650: Horace Greeley, The American Conflict, Vol. 1, p. 388.]

[Footnote 651: Ibid., p. 388.]

Sanford E. Church of Albion became temporary chairman, and Amasa J. Parker, president. Parker had passed his day of running for office, but, still in the prime of life, only fifty-four years old, his abilities ran with swiftness along many channels of industry. In stating the object of the convention, the vociferous applause which greeted his declaration that the people of the State, demanding a peaceful settlement of the questions leading to disunion, have a right to insist upon conciliation and compromise, disclosed the almost unanimous sentiment of the meeting; but the after-discussion developed differences that anticipated the disruption that was to come to the Democratic party three months later. One speaker justified Southern secession by urgent considerations of necessity and safety; another scouted the idea of coercing a seceding State; to a third, peaceful separation, though painful and humiliating, seemed the only safe and honourable way. Reuben H. Walworth, the venerable ex-chancellor, declared that civil war, instead of restoring the Union, would forever defeat its reconstruction. "It would be as brutal," he said, "to send men to butcher our own brethren of the Southern States, as it would be to massacre them in the Northern States."

Horatio Seymour received the heartiest greeting. Whether for good or evil, according to the standards by which his critics may judge him, he swayed the minds of his party to a degree that was unequalled among his contemporaries. For ten years his name had been the most intimately associated with party policies, and his influence the most potent. The exciting events of the past three months, with six States out of the Union and revolution already begun, had profoundly stirred him. He had followed the proceedings of Congress, he had studied the disposition of the South, he understood the sentiment in the North, and his appeal for a compromise, without committing himself to some of the extravagances which were poured forth in absolute good faith by Walworth, earned him enthusiastic commendation from friends and admirers. "The question is simply this," he said; "Shall we have compromise after war, or compromise without war?" He eulogised the valour of the South, he declared a blockade of its extended sea coast nearly impossible, he hinted that successful coercion by the North might not be less revolutionary than successful secession by the South, he predicted the ruin of Northern industries, and he scolded Congress, urging upon it a compromise--not to pacify seceding States, but to save border States. "The cry of 'No compromise' is false in morals," he declared; "it is treason to the spirit of the Constitution; it is infidelity in religion; the cross itself is a compromise, and is pleaded by many who refuse all charity to their fellow-citizens. It is the vital principle of social existence; it unites the family circle; it sustains the church, and upholds nationalities.... But the Republicans complain that, having won a victory, we ask them to surrender its fruits. We do not wish them to give up any political advantage. We urge measures which are demanded by the hour and the safety of our Union. Are they making sacrifices, when they do that which is required by the common welfare?"[652]

[Footnote 652: Albany Argus, February 1, 1861.

William H. Russell, correspondent of the London Times, who dined with Horatio Seymour, Samuel J. Tilden and George Bancroft, wrote that "the result left on my mind by their conversation and arguments was that, according to the Constitution, the government could not employ force to prevent secession, or to compel States which had seceded by the will of the people to acknowledge the federal power."--Entry March 17, Diary, p. 20.]

It remained for George W. Clinton of Buffalo, the son of the illustrious DeWitt Clinton, to lift the meeting to the higher plane of genuine loyalty to the Union. Clinton was a Hard in politics. He had stood with John A. Dix and Daniel S. Dickinson, had been defeated for lieutenant-governor on their ticket, and had supported Breckenridge; but when the fateful moment arrived at which a decision had to be made for or against the country, his genius, like the prescience of Dix, guided him rightly. "Let us conciliate our erring brethren," he said, "who, under a strange delusion, have, as they say, seceded from us; but, for God's sake, do not let us humble the glorious government under which we have been so happy and which will yet do so much for the happiness of mankind. Gentlemen, I hate to use a word that will offend my Southern brother, but we have reached a time when, as a man--if you please, as a Democrat--I must use plain terms. There is no such thing as legal secession. The Constitution of these United States was intended to form a firm and perpetual Union. If secession be not lawful, then, what is it? I use the term reluctantly but truly--it is rebellion! rebellion against the noblest government man ever framed for his own benefit and for the benefit of the world. What is it--this secession? I am not speaking of the men. I love the men, but I hate treason. What is it but nullification by the wholesale? I have venerated Andrew Jackson, and my blood boiled, in old time, when that brave patriot and soldier of Democracy said--'the Union, it must and shall be preserved.' (Loud applause.) Preserve it? Why should we preserve it, if it would be the thing these gentlemen would make it? Why should we love a government that has no dignity and no power? Look at it for a moment. Congress, for just cause, declares war, but one State says, 'War is not for me--I secede.' And so another and another, and the government is rendered powerless. I am not prepared to humble the general government at the feet of the seceding States. I am unwilling to say to the government, 'You must abandon your property, you must cease to collect the revenues, because you are threatened.' In other words, gentlemen, it seems to me--and I know I speak the wishes of my constituents--that, while I abhor coercion, in one sense, as war, I wish to preserve the dignity of the government of these United States as well."[653]

[Footnote 653: Horace Greeley, The American Conflict, Vol. 1, p. 394.

"When rebellion actually began many loyal Democrats came nobly out and planted themselves by the side of the country. But those who clung to the party organisation, what did they do? A month before Mr. Lincoln was inaugurated they held a state convention for the Democratic party of the State of New York. It was said it was to save the country,--it was whispered it was to save the party. The state committee called it and representative men gathered to attend it.... They applauded to the echo the very blasphemy of treason, but they attempted by points of order to silence DeWitt Clinton's son because he dared to raise his voice for the Constitution of his country and to call rebellion by its proper name."--Speech of Roscoe Conkling, September 26, 1862, A.R. Conkling, Life and Letters of Roscoe Conkling, p. 180.]

The applause that greeted these loyal sentences disclosed a patriotic sentiment, which, until then, had found no opportunity for expression; yet the convention, in adopting a series of resolutions, was of one mind on the question of submitting the Crittenden compromise to a direct vote of the people. "Their voice," said the chairman, "will be omnipresent here, and if it be raised in time it may be effectual elsewhere."

There is something almost pathetic in the history of these efforts which were made during the progress of secession, to avert, if possible, the coming shock. The great peace conference, assembled by the action of Virginia, belongs to these painful and wasted endeavours. On February 4, the day that delegates from six cotton States assembled at Montgomery to form a Southern confederacy, one hundred and thirty-three commissioners, representing twenty-one States, of which fourteen were non-slave-holding, met at Washington and continued in session, sitting with closed doors, until the 27th. It was a body of great dignity--a "fossil convention," the Tribune called it--whose proceedings, because of the desire in the public mind to avoid civil war, attracted wide attention. David Dudley Field represented New York on the committee on resolutions, which proposed an amendment of seven sections to the Constitution. On February 26, these were taken up in their order for passage. The first section provided for the restoration of the Missouri Compromise line under the then existing conditions, provided that whenever a new State was formed north or south of that line it should be admitted with or without slavery, as its constitution might declare. This was the important concession; but, though it was less favourable to the South than the Crittenden compromise, it failed to satisfy the radical Republicans, who had from the first opposed the convention. Accordingly, the vote, taken by States, stood eight to eleven against it, New York being included among the noes. The next morning, however, after agreeing to a reconsideration of the question, the convention passed the section by a vote of nine to eight, New York, divided by the absence of David Dudley Field, being without a voice in its determination. Field never fully recovered from this apparent breach of trust.[654] In committee, he had earnestly opposed the proposed amendment, talking almost incessantly for three weeks, but, at the supreme moment, when the report came up for passage, he withdrew from the convention, without explanation, thus depriving his State of a vote upon all the sections save one, because of an evenly divided delegation.

[Footnote 654: See New York Tribune, March 23, 1861, for Field's statement in defence of his action. Also Tribune, March 7, for John A. King's charges.]

The convention, however, was doomed to failure before Field left it. Very early in its life the eloquent New Yorker, assisting to rob it of any power for good, declared his opposition to any amendment to the Constitution. "The Union," he said, "is indissoluble, and no State can secede. I will lay down my life for it.... We must have the arbitration of reason, or the arbitrament of the sword." Amaziah B. James, another New Yorker, possessed the same plainness of speech. "The North will not enter upon war until the South forces it to do so," he said, mildly. "But when you begin it, the government will carry it on until the Union is restored and its enemies put down."[655] If any stronger Union sentiment were needed, the remarks of Salmon P. Chase of Ohio, in disclosing the attitude of his party, supplied it. "The election of Lincoln," he said, "must be regarded as the triumph of principles cherished in the hearts of the people of the free States. Chief among these principles is the restriction of slavery within State limits; not war upon slavery within those limits, but fixed opposition to its extension beyond them. By a fair and unquestionable majority we have secured that triumph. Do you think we, who represent this majority, will throw it away? Do you think the people would sustain us if we undertook to throw it away?"[656]

[Footnote 655: Lucius E. Chittenden, Report of Proceedings of Peace Conference, pp. 157, 170, 303, 428.]

[Footnote 656: Lucius E. Chittenden, Report of Proceedings of Peace Conference, p. 304.]

After three weeks of such talk, even Virginia, whose share in forming the Union exceeded that of any other State, manifested its discouragement by repudiating the proposed amendment as an insufficient guarantee for bringing back the cotton States or holding the border States. When, finally, on March 4, the result of the conference was offered in the United States Senate, only seven votes were cast in its favour. So faded and died the last great effort for compromise and peace. For months it must have been apparent to every one that the party of Lincoln would not yield the cornerstone of its principles. It desired peace, was quick to co-operate, and ready to conciliate, but its purpose to preserve free territory for free labour remained fixed and unalterable.

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XXVII. WEED'S REVENGE UPON GREELEY

1861

In the winter of 1860-61, while the country was drifting into civil war, a desperate struggle was going on at Albany to elect a United States senator in place of William H. Seward, whose term expired on the fourth of March. After the defeat of the Senator at Chicago, sentiment settled upon his return to Washington; but when Lincoln offered him the position of secretary of state, Thurlow Weed announced William M. Evarts as his candidate for the United States Senate. Evarts was now forty-three years of age. Born in Boston, a graduate of Yale, and of the Harvard law school, he had been a successful lawyer at the New York bar for twenty years. Union College had conferred upon him, in 1857, the degree of Doctor of Laws, and the rare ability and marvellous persistence manifested in the Lemmon slave case, in which he was opposed by Charles O'Conor, had given abundant evidence of the great intellectual powers that subsequently distinguished him. He had, also, other claims to recognition. The wit and great learning that made him the most charming of conversationalists increased his popularity, while his love of books, his excellent taste, and good manners made him welcome in the club and the social circle. Indeed, he seems to have possessed almost every gift and grace that nature and fortune could bestow, giving him high place among his contemporaries.

Evarts had not then held office. The places that O'Conor and Brady had accepted presented no attractions for him; nor did he seem to desire the varied political careers that had distinguished other brilliant young members of the New York bar. But he had taken pleasure in bringing to his party a wisdom in council which was only equalled by his power in debate. If this service were insufficient to establish his right to the exalted preferment he now sought, his recent valuable work at the Chicago convention was enough to satisfy Thurlow Weed, at least, that generous assistance of such surpassing value should be richly rewarded.

Up to this time, Weed's authority in his party in the State had been supreme. He failed to have his way in 1846 when John Young seized the nomination for governor, and some confusion existed as to his influence in the convention that selected Myron Clark in 1854; but for all practical purposes Weed had controlled the Whig and Republican parties since their formation, almost without dissent. Circumstances sometimes favoured him. The hard times of 1837 made possible Seward's election as governor; the split in the Democratic party over the canal, and later over the Wilmot Proviso, secured Seward a seat in the United States Senate; and the sudden and wholly unexpected repeal of the Missouri Compromise defeated the Silver-Grays and aided in rapidly reducing the strength of the Know-Nothings; but these changes in the political situation, although letting Weed's party into power, burdened his leadership with serious problems. It required a master hand safely to guide a party between the Radical and Abolition factions on one side and the Conservatives on the other, and his signal success commended him to President Lincoln, who frequently counselled with him, often inviting him to Washington by telegram during the darkest days of civil war.

But the defection of Greeley, supplemented by William Cullen Bryant and the union of radical leaders who came from the Democratic party, finally blossomed into successful rebellion at Chicago. This encouraged Greeley to lead one at Albany. The Legislature had one hundred and sixteen Republican members, requiring fifty-nine to nominate in caucus. Evarts could count on forty-two and Greeley upon about as many. In his effort to secure the remaining seventeen, Weed discovered that Ira Harris had a considerable following, who were indisposed to affiliate with Evarts, while several assemblymen indicated a preference for other candidates. This precipitated a battle royal. Greeley did not personally appear in Albany, but he scorned none of the ordinary crafts of party management. Charles A. Dana, then of the Tribune, represented him, and local leaders from various parts of the State rallied to his standard and industriously prosecuted his canvass. Their slogan was "down with the Dictator." It mattered not that they had approved Weed's management in the past, their fight now proposed to end the one-man power, and every place-hunter who could not secure patronage under Lincoln's administration if Evarts went to the Senate, ranged himself against Weed. On the side of the Tribune's editor, also, stood the independent, whose dislike of a party boss always encourages him to strike whenever the way is open to deal an effective blow. This was Greeley's great strength. It marshalled itself.

Weed summoned all his hosts. Moses H. Grinnell, Simeon Draper, and A. Oakey Hall led the charge, flanked by a cloud of state and county officials, and an army of politicians who filled the hotels and crowded the lobbies of the capitol. The Tribune estimated Evarts' backers at not less than one thousand.[657] For two weeks the battle raged with all the characteristics of an intense personal conflict. Greeley declared it "a conflict which was to determine whether a dynasty was to stand and give law to its subjects, or be overthrown and annihilated. Fully appreciating this, not Richmond at Bosworth Field, Charles at Naseby, nor Napoleon at Waterloo made a more desperate fight for empire than did the one-man power at Albany to retain the sceptre it has wielded for so many years over the politics and placemen of this State."[658] In their desperation both sides appealed to the President-elect, who refused to be drawn into the struggle. "Justice to all" was his answer to Weed. "I have said nothing more particular to any one."[659]

[Footnote 657: New York Tribune, February 5, 1861.]

[Footnote 658: Ibid., February 5, 1861.]

[Footnote 659: Thurlow Weed Barnes, Life of Thurlow Weed, Vol. 2, p. 324.]

As the canvass grew older, it became known that several of Harris' supporters would go to Greeley whenever their assistance would nominate him. This sacrifice, however, was not to be made so long as Harris held the balance of power; and since Weed's desire to defeat Greeley was well understood, Harris counted with some degree of certainty upon Evarts' supporters whenever a serious break threatened. Weed's relations with Harris were not cordial. For years they had lived in Albany, and as early as 1846 their ways began to diverge; but Harris' character for wisdom, learning, and integrity compelled respect. He had been an assemblyman in 1844 and 1845, a state senator in 1846, a delegate to the constitutional convention of 1846, and a justice of the Supreme Court from 1847 to 1859. His name was familiar throughout the State. From the time he took up the cause of the Anti-Renters in 1846 he had possessed the confidence of the common people, and his great fairness and courtesy upon the bench had added largely to his reputation. He was without any pretence to oratory. The gifts that made Evarts a leader of the New York bar for three decades did not belong to him; but everybody knew that in the United States Senate he would do as much as Evarts to uphold President Lincoln.

The caucus convened on the evening of February 4. Only one member was absent. Weed and Evarts sat with Governor Morgan in the executive chamber--Harris in the rooms of Lieutenant-Governor Campbell at Congress Hall. The first ballot gave Evarts 42, Greeley 40, Harris 20, with 13 scattering. Bets had been made that Evarts would get 50, and some over-sanguine ones fixed it at 60. What Weed expected does not appear; but the second ballot, which reduced Evarts to 39 and raised Greeley to 42, did not please Speaker Littlejohn, who carried orders between the executive and assembly chambers. It seemed to doom Evarts to ultimate defeat. The chamber grew dark with the gloomy frowns of men who had failed to move their stubborn representatives. The next four ballots, quickly taken, showed little progress, but the seventh raised Greeley to 47 and dropped Harris to 19, while Evarts held on at 39. An assurance that the object of their labours would be reached with the assistance of some of Harris' votes on the next ballot, made the friends of Greeley jubilant. It was equally apparent to the astonished followers of the grim manager who was smoking vehemently in the executive chamber, that Evarts would be unable to weather another ballot. A crisis, therefore, was inevitable, but it was the crisis for which Weed had been waiting and watching, and without hesitation he sent word to elect Harris.[660] This settled it. Greeley received 49, Harris 60, with 6 scattering. Weed did not get all he wanted, but he got revenge.

[Footnote 660: "Pale as ashes, Weed sat smoking a cigar within earshot of the bustle in the crowded assembly room where the caucus sat. Littlejohn stalked over the heads of the spectators and reported to Weed. Unmindful of the fact that he had a cigar in his mouth, Weed lighted another and put it in, then rose in great excitement and said to Littlejohn, 'Tell the Evarts men to go right over to Harris--to Harris--to HARRIS!' The order was given in the caucus. They wheeled into line like Napoleon's Old Guard, and Harris was nominated."--H.B. Stanton, Random Recollections, p. 218.]

There were reasons other than revenge, however, that induced men vigorously opposed to secession to resent the candidacy of Horace Greeley.[661] The editor of the Tribune certainly did not want the Southern States to secede, nor did he favour secession, as has often been charged, but his peculiar treatment of the question immediately after the November election gave the would-be secessionists comfort, if it did not absolutely invite and encourage the South to believe in the possibility of peaceable secession.

[Footnote 661: "It is quite possible that the Tribune's articles of November, 1860, cost Greeley the senatorship."--James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 3, p. 142.]

Greeley seems to have taken failure with apparent serenity. He professed to regard it as the downfall of Weed rather than the defeat of himself. His friends who knew of the antagonistic relations long existing between Harris and Weed, said the Tribune, exultingly, were willing to see Harris nominated, since "he would become an agent for the accomplishment of their main purpose--the overthrow of the dictatorship, and the establishment upon its ruins of the principle of political independence in thought and action."[662] But whatever its influence upon Weed, the nomination of Harris was a bitter disappointment to Greeley. He was extraordinarily ambitious for public preferment. The character or duties of the office seemed to make little difference to him. Congressman, senator, governor, lieutenant-governor, comptroller of state, and President of the United States, at one time or another greatly attracted him, and to gain any one of them he willingly lent his name or gave up his time; but never did he come so near reaching the goal of his ambition as in February, 1861. The promise of Harris' supporters to transfer their votes encouraged a confidence that was not misplaced. The Greeley men were elated, the more ardent entertaining no doubt that the eighth ballot would bring victory; and, had Weed delayed a moment longer, Greeley must have been a United States senator. But Weed did not delay, and Greeley closed his life with an office-holding record of ninety days in Congress. Like George Borrow, he seemed never to realise that his simple, clear, vigorous English was to be the crown of an undying fame.[663]

[Footnote 662: New York Tribune, February 5, 1861.]

[Footnote 663: "It is one of the curiosities of human nature that Greeley, who exceeded in influence many of our Presidents, should have hankered so constantly for office. It is strange enough that the man who wrote as a dictator of public opinion in the Tribune on the 9th of November could write two days later the letter to Seward, dissolving the political firm of Seward, Weed, and Greeley. In that letter the petulance of the office-seeker is shown, and the grievous disappointment that he did not get the nomination for lieutenant-governor, which went to Raymond, stands out plainly."--James F. Rhodes, History of the United States, Vol. 2, p. 72.]

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