As usual John A. Dix's name came before the convention. It was well known that party nomenclature did not represent his views, but his admirers, profoundly impressed with his sterling integrity and weight of character, insisted, amidst the loudest cheering of the day, that his name be presented. Nevertheless, an informal ballot quickly disclosed that Fenton was the choice, and on motion of Elbridge G. Lapham the nomination became unanimous.[244] Other nominations fell to the Radicals.[245] Not until Greeley was about to capture first place as a presidential elector-at-large, however, did the Conservatives fully realise how badly they were being punished. Then every expedient known to diplomacy was exhausted. Afternoon shaded into evening and evening into night. Still the contest continued. It seems never to have occurred to the Weed faction that Horace Greeley, whom it had so often defeated, could be given an office, even though its duties covered but a single day, and in its desperation it discovered a willingness to compromise on any other name. But Greeley's friends forced the fight, and to their great joy won a most decisive victory.[246]
While the Weed men were nursing their resentment because of the honour thus suddenly thrust upon the most famous American editor,[247] a great surprise convulsed the Democratic State convention.[248] The report that Horatio Seymour sought release from official labours because of ill health and the demands of private business, created the belief that he would decline a renomination even if tendered by acclamation. Indeed, the Governor himself, in conversation with Dean Richmond, reiterated his oft-expressed determination not to accept. The Regency, believing him sincere, agreed upon William F. Allen of Oswego, although other candidates, notably William Kelly of Dutchess, the nominee of the Softs in 1860, and Amasa J. Parker of Albany, were mentioned. Lucius Robinson, declining to be considered for second place, urged the nomination of Dix for governor. Of these candidates Seymour was quoted as favourable to Parker. Still a feeling of unrest disturbed the hotel lobbies. "There is some talk," said the Herald, "of giving Seymour a complimentary vote, with the understanding that he will then decline, but this is opposed as a trick to place him in the field again, although those who pretend to speak for him positively declare that he will not accept the nomination upon any contingency."[249] When told on convention morning that Seymour would accept if nominated by acclamation, Richmond ridiculed the idea. His incredulity was strengthened by the statement of two Oneida delegates, whom the Governor, only a few moments before, had instructed to withdraw his name if presented. Thus matters stood until the convention, having enthusiastically applauded an indorsement of Seymour's administration, quickly and by acclamation carried a motion for his renomination, the delegates jumping to their feet and giving cheer after cheer. Immediately a delegate, rising to a question of privilege, stated that the Governor, in the hearing of gentlemen from his own county, had positively declined to accept a nomination because his health and the state of his private affairs forbade it. As this did not satisfy the delegates, a committee, appointed to notify Seymour of his selection, reported that the Governor whose temporary illness prevented his attendance upon the convention, had had much to say about private affairs, ill health, and excessive labour, but that since the delegates insisted upon his renomination, he acquiesced in their choice.[250]
Seymour's action was variously interpreted. Some pronounced it tricky; others, that he declined because he feared defeat.[251] But there was no evidence of insincerity. He wanted the office less in 1864 than he did in 1862. It had brought labour and anxiety, and no relief from increasing solicitude was in sight if re-elected. But his friends, resenting the New York delegation's action in withholding from him its support for President, determined to be avenged by renominating him for governor. They knew that Dean Richmond, whose admiration for the Governor had not been increased by the latter's performance at Chicago, wanted a candidate of more pronounced views respecting a vigorous prosecution of the war, and that in his support of Allen he had the convention well in hand. Wisely distrusting the Regency, therefore, they worked in secret, talking of the honour and prestige of a complimentary vote, but always declaring, what Seymour himself emphasised, that the Governor would not again accept the office. Not a misstep left its print in the proceedings. Before the chairman put the motion for his renomination, a delegate from Oneida, rising to withdraw the name, was quieted by the assurance that it was only complimentary. An Albany lieutenant of Dean Richmond, obtaining the floor with the help of a stentorian voice, began to block the movement, but quickly subsided after hearing the explanation from a delegate at his side that it was only complimentary. When the motion had carried, however, and the Oneida gentleman began fulfilling the Governor's directions, came the cry, "Too late, too late. We have nominated the candidate!" So perfectly was the coup d'état arranged that the prime mover of the scheme was appointed chairman of the committee to wait upon the Governor. Afterwards people recalled, with a disposition to connect Seymour with this master-stroke in politics, that he had never declined by letter, and that the reasons given, like the illness that kept him from facing the convention, were largely imaginary. "That crowd saw how beautifully they were done," said Depew, then secretary of state at Albany, "while Dean Richmond's language was never printed."[252]
Scarcely had the convention adjourned before the brilliant achievements in the Shenandoah valley thrilled the North from Maine to California. On September 19, at the battle of Winchester, General Sheridan defeated General Early, and on the 22d, at Fisher's Hill, put him to flight. "Only darkness," Sheridan telegraphed Grant, "has saved the whole of Early's army from total destruction. I do not think there ever was an army so badly routed."[253] These victories, recalling those of Stonewall Jackson in 1862, appealed to the popular imagination and quickly reassured the country. Besides, on September 21, the withdrawal of Fremont and Cochrane, the Cleveland candidates, united Radical and Conservative in a vigorous campaign for Lincoln. A private letter from Grant, who participated in the glory accorded Sherman and Sheridan, told the true condition of the Confederacy. "The rebels," he said, "have now in their ranks their last man. They have robbed the cradle and the grave equally to get their present force. Besides what they lose in frequent skirmishes and battles, they are now losing, from desertions and other causes, at least one regiment per day. With this drain upon them the end is not far distant, if we only be true to ourselves."[254]
This story, coupled with recent victories, turned the Democratic platform into a lie. Instead of being a failure, the war was now recognised as a grand success, and radical speakers, replying to the clamour for a cessation of hostilities, maintained that the abolition of slavery was the only condition that promised a permanent peace. Brilliant descriptions of Grant's work, aided by his distinguished lieutenants, were supplemented later in the campaign by the recital of "Sheridan's Ride," which produced the wildest enthusiasm. Indeed, the influence of the army's achievements, dissipating the despondency of the summer months, lifted the campaign into an atmosphere of patriotism not before experienced since the spring of 1861, and established the belief that Lincoln's re-election meant the end of secession and slavery. "There will be peace," said John Cochrane, "but it will be the peace which the musket gives to a conquered host."[255]
Referring to the farewell speech of Alexander H. Stephens upon his retirement from public life in 1859, George William Curtis, with the eloquence that adorned his addresses at that period, thrilled his audience with an exciting war picture: "Listen to Mr. Stephens in the summer sunshine six years ago. 'There is not now a spot of the public territory of the United States over which the national flag floats where slavery is excluded by the law of Congress, and the highest tribunal of the land has decided that Congress has no power to make such a law. At this time there is not a ripple upon the surface. The country was never in a profounder quiet.' Do you comprehend the terrible significance of those words? He stops; he sits down. The summer sun sets over the fields of Georgia. Good-night, Mr. Stephens—a long good-night. Look out from your window—how calm it is! Upon Missionary Ridge, upon Lookout Mountain, upon the heights of Dalton, upon the spires of Atlanta, silence and solitude; the peace of the Southern policy of slavery and death. But look! Hark! Through the great five years before you a light is shining—a sound is ringing. It is the gleam of Sherman's bayonets, it is the roar of Grant's guns, it is the red daybreak and wild morning music of peace indeed, the peace of national life and liberty."[256]
The sulkers now came out of their tents. Daniel S. Dickinson, no longer peddling his griefs in private ears, declared "there was no doubt of the President's triumphant election;"[257] the tone of Bryant and the Evening Post changed; Beecher renewed hope through the Independent and preached a political sermon every Sunday evening; Weed and Raymond discontinued their starless letters to Lincoln; George Opdyke cancelled the call for a second national convention and another candidate for President; and Horace Greeley, silent as to his part in the recent conspiracy, joined the army of Union orators. Catching again the spirit of the great moral impulse and that lofty enthusiasm which had aroused the people of the North to the decisive struggle against slavery, these leaders sprang to the work of advancing the cause of liberty and human rights.
The Democrats sought to evade Vallandigham's words of despair, written into the Chicago platform, by eulogising McClellan, but as the glory of Antietam paled in the presence of Sherman's and Sheridan's victories, they declared that success in the field did not mean peace. "Armed opposition is driven from the fields of Kentucky, Missouri, Maryland, and parts of Louisiana," said Horatio Seymour, "and yet this portion of country, already conquered, requires more troops to hold it under military rule than are demanded for our armies to fight the embattled forces of the Confederacy. You will find that more men will be needed to keep the South in subjection to the arbitrary projects of the Administration than are required to drive the armies of rebellion from the field. The peace you are promised is no peace, but is a condition which will perpetuate and make enduring all the worst features of this war."[258]
In their eagerness Democratic speakers, encouraged by the New York World, then the ablest and most influential journal of its party, turned with bitterness, first upon Lincoln's administration, and finally upon Lincoln himself. "Is Mr. Lincoln honest?" asked the World. "That he has succumbed to the opportunities and temptations of his present place is capable of the easiest proof."[259] This was sufficient for the stump orator and less influential journal to base angry and extravagant charges of wrong-doing, which became frequent and noisy.[260] John Van Buren called Lincoln a "twenty-second-rate man," and declared the country "irretrievably gone" if McClellan was defeated.[261] Seymour did not charge Lincoln with personal dishonesty, but he thought his administration had rendered itself a partner in fraud and corruption. "I do not mean to say," he declared, "that the Administration is to be condemned because, under circumstances so unusual as those which have existed during this war, bad men have taken advantage of the confusion in affairs to do wrong. But I do complain that when these wrongs are done, the Government deliberately passes laws that protect the doer, and thus make wrong-doing its own act. Moreover, in an election like this, when the Government is spending such an enormous amount of money, and the liability to peculation is so great, the Administration that will say to contractors, as has been openly said in circulars, 'You have had a good contract, out of which you have made money, and we expect you to use a part of that money to assist to replace us in power,' renders itself a partner in fraud and corruption."[262]