So, in 1876, when his friends cast about for a congressional candidate, this man who had led a forlorn hope for them in a less notable fight eight years before seemed the man most likely to make a creditable showing.
There was little hope of electing him. The district, the old Ohio Eighteenth, was 1,800 strong Democratic. The Democratic nominee was the then incumbent, and he had made a record which pleased his constituents. Besides, the tariff was largely the issue of the campaign and Mr. Tilden’s slogan: “A tariff for revenue only” was regarded as expressing a popular sentiment. That other slogan, “Tilden and Reform” had lost some of its effectiveness in the light of the Erie canal investigation at Albany; but the tariff had more than taken its place in the popular thought.
Besides, Major McKinley was one of the very few men in the nation who boldly, and without apology or subterfuge, contended for the principle of protection. It has been said elsewhere in this book that he engaged in a debate on the tariff shortly after returning from the army, and before he left his old home town of Poland. He had studied the question even then, and had become convinced that the present prosperity and future welfare of the nation demanded a policy of high tariff, and would for a number of years.
He lost that debate because the judges, smarting under the burden of war taxes, accepted the popular clamor for a reduction—and decided, without regard to the facts presented or argument deduced, that Major McKinley’s opponent had won.
It had been observed in Stark county, since his location at Canton, that Major McKinley held to his daring theory of protection in all his political speeches. Most other Republicans felt the need of trimming, and conceded that protection was bad in policy, if not wrong in morals; and promised the people that it would be abolished.
That was the condition in the Eighteenth District in the summer of 1876, when Major William McKinley was nominated to run against Judge L. D. Woodsworth, a wheelhorse of Democracy in Ohio.
As in 1868, when he was candidate for prosecuting attorney of Stark county, so now, there was little hope of his election. The majority seemed too great to be overcome. But it was overcome. And when the votes were counted it was found that the Republican nominee had a clear majority of 1,300—a change of 3,100 votes from the preceding congressional election.
And it will be remembered that this was in the face of Major McKinley’s contention for the policy of protection. He met every sophistry of his opponents with arguments which showed him a thorough master of his subject, and with a skill in debate which disarmed enmity even among his opposers.
So significant a victory won for the young man the attention of the nation; and the arrival in Washington of this strong, courageous champion of a great public policy was occasion for gratulation among the men who saw beyond the immediate present, and were building for the future of the nation—preparing the Republic for that day when it must abandon its hermitage, and take place among the mighty nations of the earth. And they gave him every encouragement. But even they—even Judge Kelley, of Pennsylvania, whose protectionism was less genuine because more a matter of personal interest—found at the very beginning that they could give William McKinley nothing, and that they would shortly be asking favors of him.
Sociologists may interest themselves with speculations on the influences which contributed to William McKinley’s success as a statesman. But it is doubtful if they find anything more significant than the sorrow which came to him at this period. His two daughters were dead. His wife had suffered the blow from which she was never to recover; and this man’s entry upon national legislation was through the gates of a great sorrow. Maybe it refined him, and purified his nature of whatever dross it contained. Maybe it intensified his thought, and added the sense of a sacred responsibility to him as a public man. He had no children. He knew he never again would hear the lisping call of “Father.” And in the holy bereavement of that hour, he must—perhaps unconsciously—have devoted himself to the service of his country. There was no need to “trim,” to—