Letters and Literary Memorials of Samuel J. Tilden, v. 1

by Samuel J. Tilden

"I appreciate the frank and cordial spirit of your letter, and shall state my own impressions in the same confidence which you express that our long knowledge of each other will, at least, secure us a perfect mutual understanding. I say impressions, for I am conscious that all my views of the future, for myself, and for all others in whom I take interest, may be colored by the peculiar uncertainties which now enshroud our horizon.

"1. While I think it proper for you to keep your eye upon the opportunity of forming a future business in New York, I doubt if you can prudently abandon your present sure and honorable position, or can count with sufficient certainty upon events to enter at present into definite engagements of so much importance to your interests and happiness. I think you will remember in all our conversations a disposition on my part (arising, perhaps, from the habitual caution which my views of public events inspire) to contemplate such a change in your affairs as taking effect after the close of your present term of official service.

"I think, if the battle of Gettysburg had happened to be such a disaster to us as is always possible in the vicissitudes of war, business in New York would have been for the time, and how long a time I know not, suspended. Who can compute the consequences of the loss of Washington, Baltimore, and, perhaps, Philadelphia? Nor can I be insensible to the social disorders to which great cities are exposed during such civil convulsions as our country is now undergoing.

"You are at present sure of a livelihood by a tenure and in a geographical position which are not affected by the military, political, or financial vicissitudes to which all business in the city of New York is exposed, and which might fall with peculiar severity upon a newly formed enterprise—undertaken in reliance upon profits which any of these causes might render illusory, and amid expenses which city life and city business inevitably involve. Under these circumstances I hope you will not consider it officious if I express the opinion that it would be wiser for you, holding to your present certainty, to await events which can scarcely fail to shift greatly, if not frequently, before a decision can be practically forced upon you.

"2. I agree with you that after the war shall have closed the city of New York will afford scope for business corresponding to the revivified interests of the country; but I agree with this qualification—that it can hardly be that the transition can be made, changing, as it will, the application of labor and enterprise from one set of objects to another, without a shock of more or less duration, and that the retirement by any process of the paper issues may be expected to produce a period of constantly increasing depression. It will be after this that, with its metropolitan character more than ever assured, New York will return to a state of healthy prosperity, if its position as the trade centre of all the States be preserved.

"3. In respect to myself. I am not sure that the advantages of a professional connection with me would be as great as might naturally be expected. It has been the general opinion of the profession that a mere counsel business, of large extent and income, could not be permanently kept up. So far as I have succeeded in doing this, my experience may have been exceptional. I have years ago abandoned all ideas of regular clientage, and could scarcely see any reason why my business should not much diminish, perhaps almost dry up, with the completion of that pending at the time. The substitution of mere business—easy to be deputed, regular in its flow, and almost formal in its nature, which is the basis of large profits in the general experience of the bar—I have not had, possibly because I had not the organization in my office to do it, and could not do it myself without abandoning the part to which I have devoted myself. If ten years ago I had provided for it what it might have grown to is a matter of conjecture. It is now too late for me to undertake the labor, care or responsibility, or even to acquire the disposition to construct such a business. How far, in lessening my active connection with affairs of the peculiar nature mine has become, I could transfer would be doubtful. Indeed, it would seem to me that some species which have occupied half of my attention for five years past are likely to disappear.

"4. Some years ago I had two suggestions of what seemed to be very flattering connections. One of them was of several intimate friends, who thought we could combine and build up a larger concern than ever existed in this city. I assented to that opinion, but shrank from assuming obligations and necessities which could not be practically terminable at my own choice. Uncertain how long health would permit or necessity require the efforts I was then making, or how long a disposition to continue them would survive the immediate occasion for them, I felt that I should unavoidably part with the perfect freedom of my choice if I allowed friends to build their calculations upon me—that no reservation I could make would exempt me from a sense that what I might prefer to do would disappoint or damage those with whom I had entered into the joint undertaking.

"In the interval these motives for keeping free from all connections have strengthened, while all motives to form them have nearly ceased. The necessities of that day have been fulfilled. My health requires an exemption for a time of more or less duration, from the cares which would attend any new engagements, or, indeed, the thought whether or not business is to continue. Everything that I could endeavor to foresee, whether personal, as health, taste, my remaining here or travelling to Europe or to the far West, or whether public, as financial or political events amid the civil commotions of our country—everything, in a word, which could ordinarily form the subject of calculation, seems to be more uncertain than ever before. My habit, therefore, in all things—I scarcely know whether it comes of disposition or of judgment—is to make no plans at present, except such as are inevitable; to await events, and to keep myself as prepared as possible to act, free from engagements and even from predeterminations of my own mind, according to the changing phases of affairs.

"I have thus, my dear sir, unveiled to you more of my private affairs and thoughts than, perhaps, are known to any other person; for I have written them as if we were talking together, writing my ideas as they arose, without much method or care.

"Please consider them as confidential, and excuse the haste with which they are expressed and the length to which my letter has grown. Accept the frankness of my revelations and suggestions as an evidence of my cordial interest in your views, and be assured that whatever I can do by way of information, advice, or suggestion towards your purpose, if you continue to entertain it, will be at all times at your service.