A Political History of the State of New York, Volumes 1-3

by De Alva Stanwood Alexander

After the two conventions adjourned the question of chiefest interest was, would Tilden seek the nomination at Cincinnati? The action of the convention demonstrated that the regular party organisation was unaffected by the Kelly bolt, that Tilden controlled the party in the State, and that his nomination was a part of the programme. Moreover, it showed that the New York Democracy did not intend asking support upon any principle other than the issue of fraud. But intimations of Tilden's purpose to decline a nomination found expression in the speech and acts of men presumedly informed. Lester B. Faulkner's statement, in calling the convention to order, that he did not know whether the Governor would accept a renomination, coupled with the convention's reply to Haskin, expressing confidence that the action at Cincinnati would result in the Democracy's carrying New York, had made a deep impression. To many these insinuations indicated that because of his health or for some unknown cause he was not seriously a candidate. Others found reason for similar belief in the indisposition of prominent delegates to resent such a suggestion. One veteran journalist, skilled in reading the words and actions of political leaders, asserted with confidence that he would not be a candidate. To him Tilden's name concealed a strategic movement, which, in the end, would enable his friends to control the nomination for another.[957]

Such interpretation found hosts of doubters. Without Tilden, it was said, the fraud issue would lose its influence. Besides, if he intended to withdraw, why did Kelly assemble his convention? Surely some one, said they, would have given him an inkling in time to save him from the contempt and humiliation to which he had subjected himself. There was much force in this reasoning, and as the date of the national convention approached the mystery deepened.

Tilden was not a paralytic, as Haskin proclaimed. He could not even be called an invalid. His attention to vexatious litigation evidenced unimpaired mental power, and his open life at Greystone proved that his physical condition did not hide him from men. He undoubtedly required regular rest and sleep. His nervous system did not resist excitement as readily as in the days of his battle with Tweed and the Canal ring. It is possible, too, that early symptoms of a confirmed disease had then appeared, and that prudence dictated hygienic precautions. Once, in December, 1879, when contemplating the strain of the campaign of 1876, he questioned his ability to go through another. Again, in the early spring of 1880, after prolonged intellectual effort, he remarked in rather a querulous tone, "If I am no longer fit to prepare a case for trial, I am not fit to be President of the United States." Such casual remarks, usually made to a confidential friend, seemed to limit his references to his health.[958] He doubtless felt disinclined, as have many stronger men, to meet the strain that comes when in pursuit of high public office, but there is no evidence that ill-health, if it really entered into his calculations, was the determining factor of his action. Conditions in the Republican party had changed in the Empire State since the nomination of Garfield. Besides, the cipher disclosures had lost him the independent vote which he received in 1876. This left only the regulation party strength, minus the Kelly vote. In 1876 Tilden's majority was 26,568, and in 1879 Kelly polled 77,566. If Kelly's bolt in 1880, therefore, should carry one-half or only one-quarter of the votes it did in 1879, Tilden must necessarily lose New York which meant the loss of the election. These were conditions, not theories, that confronted this hard-headed man of affairs, who, without sentiment, never failed to understand the inexorable logic of facts. Nevertheless, Tilden wanted the endorsement of a renomination. This would open the way for a graceful retreat. Yet, to shield him from possible defeat, he secretly gave Manning a letter, apparently declining to run again, which could be used if needed.

On reaching Cincinnati Manning found that a multiplicity of candidates made it difficult to determine Tilden's strength. The ranks of the opposition, based on cipher disclosures and Kelly's threats, rapidly strengthened, and although many friends of other candidates thought it less hazardous to nominate him than to repudiate him, ominous warnings piled up like thunder clouds on a summer day. Meantime New York's active canvass for Henry B. Payne of Ohio seemed to conflict with Tilden's candidacy, while Tilden's remarks, spoken in moments of physical discouragement, added to the impression that he did not seek the nomination. But why did he not say so? Manning, supposing he was the sole possessor of the letter and believing the time not yet ripe for producing it, kept his own counsels. Tilden, however, had given a duplicate to his brother Henry, who now announced through the press that Tilden had forwarded a communication. This reached Cincinnati on the eve of the convention.

It was long and characteristic. He recalled his services as a private citizen in overthrowing the Tweed ring and purifying the judiciary, and as governor of the State in breaking up the Canal ring, reducing the taxes, and reforming the administration. He told the familiar story of the "count out"; maintained that he could, if he pleased, have bought "proof of the fraud" from the Southern returning boards; and accused Congress of "abdicating its duty" in referring the count to the Electoral Commission. Since 1876, he said, he had been "denied the immunities of private life without the powers conferred by public station," but he had done all in his power to keep before the people "the supreme issue" raised by the events of that year. Now, however, he felt unequal to "a new engagement which involves four years of ceaseless toil. Such a work of renovation after many years of misrule, such a reform of systems and policies, to which I would cheerfully have sacrificed all that remained to me of health and life, is now, I fear, beyond my strength."[959]

Tilden did not intend this to be a letter of withdrawal. With the hope of stimulating loyalty he sought to impress upon the delegates his vicarious sacrifice and the need of holding to the fraud issue. This was the interpretation quickly given it by his enemies. Kelly declared it a direct bid for the nomination. But a majority of the New York delegation regretfully accepted it as final. Nevertheless, many ardent Tilden men, believing the letter had strengthened him, insisted upon his nomination. The meeting of the delegation proved a stormy one. Bold charges of infidelity to Tilden reacted against Payne, and to escape controversy Manning indiscreetly asked if he might yield to the pressure which his letter had stimulated. To this Tilden could make but one reply: "My action is irrevocable. No friend must cast a doubt on my sincerity."[960]

There is something pathetic in this passing of Tilden, but there seems no reason for surprise. Tilden was essentially an opportunist. He attacked the Tweed ring after its exposure; he made war upon the Canal ring after its record had become notorious; and he reduced the State taxes after the war debt had been paid. Upon these reforms he rode into power, and upon the cry of fraud he hoped to ride again to success. He was much too acute not to know that the cipher disclosures had robbed him of the rôle of reformer, but he seems to have been blind to the obvious fact that every one else was also aware of it. Besides, he lacked boldness and was at times the victim of indecision. He was singularly unfortunate, moreover, in failing to attract a circle of admirers such as usually surround public men of great prominence. Nevertheless, the opinion then obtained, and a quarter of a century perhaps has not changed it, that had Manning, when he reached the convention city, boldly and promptly demanded Tilden's nomination it could have been secured. Whether, if tendered him, he would have accepted it, "no one," says Bigelow, "is competent to affirm or deny. He probably did not know himself."[961]

Meanwhile, New York lost whatever prestige it had inherited through him. Payne had the support of barely a majority of the delegation,[962] Samuel J. Randall of Pennsylvania, who had relied upon it, was angry, and the first roll-call showed that Winfield S. Hancock and Thomas F. Bayard held the leading places.[963] This contrasted sharply with its early success. George Hoadley of Ohio, Tilden's devoted friend, had been made temporary chairman; Kelly, rising to address the convention, had felt most keenly the absence of a friend in the chair; and a two-thirds majority excluded the Shakespeare Hall delegation. Such influence, however, was at an end. The delegation affected control when Rufus H. Peckham declared from the platform that as Tilden had renounced all claims New York would support Randall; but the convention failed to join in the excited cheers of the Philadelphians, while the roll-call soon disclosed Hancock as the favourite. Before the result was announced officially Wisconsin asked permission to change its twenty votes to the soldier, and in the twinkling of an eye the stampede began. At the conclusion of the changes Hancock had received all the votes cast save 33.[964] William H. English of Indiana, a rich man, who had served four terms in Congress during the administrations of Presidents Pierce and Buchanan, was nominated for Vice-President. The platform favoured a tariff for revenue only, exploited the election fraud, demanded honest money of coin or paper convertible into coin, and stoutly opposed Chinese immigration.

After Hancock's nomination Kelly's inning began. The convention had treated him coldly. On the first day, when New York was called, desiring to protest against seating a member of the regular delegation, he sought recognition from a seat among the alternates, but Hoadley, without the slightest sign of seeing or hearing him, ordered the roll-call to proceed. The overwhelming rejection of his delegation was not less crushing. The vote combined a compliment to Tilden and an official utterance against the action of his great enemy, and as the States, answering promptly and sharply, dealt death to bolting and paralysis to Tammany it became evident to the blindest that Tilden possessed the confidence of his party. In spite of the friendly relations between Hendricks and Kelly, Indiana voted a solid No. Nine other States, including Kentucky, Louisiana, and North Carolina, did likewise. Indeed, nearly two-thirds of the Southern delegates ranged themselves against the Boss. To add to the public proof of Kelly's weakness New York asked to be excused from voting.[965]

Nevertheless, Kelly had his friends. They were not as strong in numbers or in voice as those who cheered Conkling at Chicago, but in the absence of a master-mind the galleries seized upon the Tammany leader and cheered whenever he appeared. To give greater spectacular effect to his first greeting, Wade Hampton of South Carolina got upon his crutches and stumped down the aisle to shake him solemnly by the hand. Kelly, however, did not reach the culminating point of his picturesque rôle until Hancock's nomination. After Randall, Hampton, and others had spoken, cries for Kelly brought to the platform a delegation of Tammany leaders walking arm in arm, with John Kelly, Augustus Schell, Amasa J. Parker, and George C. Green in front. The convention, save the New York delegation, leaped to its feet, and when Kelly declared that hereafter whoever alluded to the differences which had heretofore existed in the New York Democracy should be considered a "traitor to his party," the great enthusiasm forced cheers from one-half of the New York delegation. To make the love-feast complete, John R. Fellows, finally responding to impatient calls from all parts of the hall, also took the platform.