[Samuel J. Tilden.]
In 1814 there was born at New Lebanon, New York, an infant son to Elam Tilden, a prosperous farmer. His father, being a personal and political friend of Mr. Van Buren and other members of the celebrated 'Albany Regency'; his home was made a kind of headquarters for various members of that council to whose conversation the precocious child enjoyed to listen.
Mr. Tilden declared of himself that he had no youth. As a boy he was diffident, and was studying and investigating when others were playing and enjoying the pleasures of society. From the beginning he was a calculator. Martin Van Buren, to whom he was greatly attached, often spoke of him as 'The sagacious Sammy.'
Thrown into contact with such men at his parent's home, he early evinced a fondness for politics which first revealed itself in an essay on 'The Political Aspect,' displaying ability far beyond one of his years, which was printed in the Albany Argus, and which was attributed to Mr. Van Buren, at that time the leader of the Albany Regency.
At twenty he entered Yale College, but ill-health compelled his return home. He, however, afterward resumed his studies at the University of New York; graduating from that institution he began the practice of law. At the bar he became known as a sound, but not especially brilliant pleader. In 1866 he was chosen Chairman of the State Committee of his party. In 1870-1, he was largely instrumental in unearthing frauds perpetrated in the city of New York, and in 1874 was elected the 'reform governor' of the great Empire State. Although in political discord with Mr. Tilden, it is in no disparaging sense that we speak of him. It is in the sense of a historian bound and obligated to truth that we view him. We regard him as the mysterious statesman of american history.
His personal character was, to a great extent, shrouded from the public in a veil of mystery, which had both its voluntary and involuntary elements. If Mr. Tilden had desired to be otherwise than mysterious it would have required much more self-control and ingenuity than would have been necessary to thicken the veil to impenetrability.
His habit was to weigh both sides of every question, and therein he resembled, though in other particulars entirely different, the late Henry J. Raymond, the founder of the New York Times; and the effect was to some extent similar, for each of these men saw both sides of every question so fully as to be under the power of both sides, which sometimes produced an equilibrium, causing hesitation when the crisis required action.
Mr. Tilden had intellectual qualities of the very highest order. He could sit down before a mass of incoherent statements, and figures that would drive most men insane, and elucidate them by the most painstaking investigation, and feel a pleasure in the work. Indeed, an intimate friend of his assures us that his eye would gleam with delight when a task was set before him from which most men would pay large sums to be relieved: Hence, his abilities were of a kind that made him a most dangerous opponent.
Some persons supposed that Mr. Tilden was a poor speaker because, when he was brought before the people as a candidate for President of the United States, he was physically unable to speak with much force. But twenty years ago, for clearness of statement, and for an easy and straightforward method of speech he had few superiors. His language was excellent, his manner that of a man who had something to say and was intent upon saying it. He was at no time a tricky orator, nor did he aim at rousing the feelings, but in the clearest possible manner he would make his points and no amount of prejudice was sufficient to resist his conclusions. He was a great reader, and reflected on all that he read.
No more extraordinary episode ever occurred than his break with William M. Tweed, and his devoting himself to the overthrow of that gigantic ring. It is not our purpose to treat the whole subject; yet, the manner of the break was so tragic that it should be detailed. William M. Tweed had gone on buying men and legislatures, and enriching himself until he had reached the state of mind in which he said to the public, "What are you going to do about it?" He had gone further. He had applied it to the leading men of the Democratic party. The time came when he sat in his gorgeously furnished apartment in Albany, as Chairman of a certain committee of the Senate. Samuel J. Tilden appeared before the committee to represent a certain interest. On that occasion Mr. Tweed, who was either intoxicated with liquor, or intoxicated with pride and vanity, grossly insulted Mr. Tilden, spoke to him in the most disrespectful manner, and closed by saying: "You are an old humbug; you always were a humbug, and we don't want to hear anything from you!"