Part 12

Of course the man squirmed and tried to escape, but he was held by a firm hand to the grave discrepancy of which he had been guilty, involving the governors of all the loyal states in an instigation of which they were guiltless as a body of men, in convention assembled. Then he tried to escape by asserting that the governors were on at Washington, laboring with the president to secure the same end. But he was assured most emphatically, that such was not the case, as they all were extremely busy, and no time for a week’s excursion to Washington.

Governor Washburn, of Maine, had invited Mr. Blaine to accompany him to this meeting of the governors, but pressure of duties forbade.

Mr. Blaine closed the little contest for supremacy, with the Kentucky gentleman, with this single sentence: “The anachronism into which my friend has been led, and which I have thus pointed out, is quite as conclusive in the premises as Mr. Weller hoped the alibi would prove in the celebrated Pickwickian trial.”

A pleasant thing about the episode is that Mr. Boutwell, of Massachusetts, afterwards President Grant’s secretary of the treasury, yielded his own time upon the floor to Mr. Blaine, for the friendly tilt in the interest of the Union, and the pending war-measure.

It proved conclusively that congress is no place for a Fourth of July oration, but for clear heads, well-managed tongues, and brave hearts, such as Mr. Blaine seems never to be without.

A long session of congress was being held on into the middle of summer, and many of the old laws relating to slavery were being abolished, among them one that related to the coastwise slave trade, which was interlaced with the coastwise trade of rightful commerce. It comprised thirty-two sections, so bound up together as to make a sort of a code on the subject. It, of course, bore directly upon the shipping interests of Maine, and brought Mr. Blaine to his feet more than once during the discussion. The effort was made to revise them in the interest of New York city, and so discriminate sharply against New England ports. The condition of that city, at this time, was very bad politically. It was about the time of the draft-riots, when Tilden addressed the mob, calling the rioters “My friends.” Of course Mr. Blaine was thoroughly informed, and he made a strong point against the measure of the New York member, Mr. Brooks. “To-day,” he said, “in New York city, the sentiment is anti-American, and were it submitted to voters of the city of New York now, whether they would have Jeff Davis president, or a loyal Republican Union man, North, Jeff Davis would have thirty thousand votes ahead,” and a voice said, “What of that?” And Mr. Brooks, the gentleman from New York, admitted that there were fifty thousand majority now in New York city opposed to Abraham Lincoln.

This was six months and seven days after the Proclamation of Emancipation, and showed that, though the great heart of that noble state beat true, and, as was a fact, had sent about two hundred thousand troops to the war, yet the mass in the city, left behind, were weakening largely the Union cause. It was a feature of the struggle with slavery continually felt, not only in congress, but in the execution of laws for the strengthening of the cause.

In reply to “What of that?”--that is, what of it if Jeff Davis could receive thirty thousand majority in New York city--he said: “Just this: if gentlemen suppose that the whole country will contribute to the prosperity and growth of the city under such circumstances, they are under a perfect delusion,” and then he went for the man who said “What of that?” in his own princely style.

He encounters first “Sunset” Cox, then of Ohio, now of New York, the wit of the House, and there is a perfect fusilade of questionings and replies, sharp retorts and pertinent sallies, and though they are after him from all sides, Cox, Randall, Arnold, Brooks, yet he holds his position with a fearless hand, standing firm as an admiral on the deck of his flag-ship in the squadron, amid the boom and smoke, the thunder, and flash, and roar of a naval engagement; just as intrepid, just as grand; no twitching of nerve, or faltering of muscle; he is commander of the situation, and never strikes his flag.

Nearly a month before the adjournment of congress the Union National Republican Convention met at Baltimore (June 7), to nominate a president.

Mr. Lincoln had been regarded as too conservative by the extreme radical wing of the party, notwithstanding the slaves were free, and armed, and organized by the thousands in defence of the Union; and Grant had been so successful in the West, he had been brought East and made lieutenant-general, having fought his way from Fort Henry to Pittsburgh Landing, to Vicksburg, and to Chattanooga. But the war had been prolonged beyond the expectation of the people. Rebels were still on the banks of the Rappahannock and the Tennessee. A few defeats, loss of men, great expenditures of money, and a rather dormant campaign during the winter, had produced some despondency and doubt.

Secretary Chase, with his powerful position in the cabinet and at the head of the treasury, was known to be seeking the presidency, and so he became the centre around which clustered various elements of discontent and opposition. He was the head, it is said, of the radical forces in the cabinet, as Mr. Seward was of the conservative forces. But though a man of great prominence, and of great power, a man with a splendid record as a political chief of the Free-soil party that had battled slavery before the war, his legislature of Ohio pronounced for Mr. Lincoln, and Mr. Chase at once withdrew.

But everything was at fever-heat. The “radical men of the nation” were invited to meet at Cleveland on the 31st of May, eight days before the Republican Convention met at Baltimore. “It was simply a mass convention of one hundred and fifty persons, claiming to come from fifteen states.” General Frémont was put forward as candidate for president, and Gen. John Cochrane, of New York, for vice-president, and all in violent opposition to Mr. Lincoln, as the call indicated, and General Frémont’s letter of acceptance confirmed. If anybody else was nominated, he would not be a candidate.

This was the state of affairs when Mr. Blaine went with his delegation to Baltimore, where Union troops were first fired upon less than three years before.

It seems exceeding strange as we look back upon it now, that anyone could be found in all the North, and especially among his party, men who could oppose a man so great and worthy as Abraham Lincoln, and even attack the wisdom of his administration and the rectitude of his intentions, just as some were found to attack Washington, notwithstanding the magnitude of his service, the splendor of his life, and the magnificence of his character.

Mr. Blaine was among the staunchest friends of the president, and cannot look, even from this distance of years, with any respect, upon the actions of those who sought to undermine him. He regarded it as unwise, cruel, and next to disloyalty. But it availed not,--he was too proudly enthroned amid the affections of the people, so that every effort of opposition but increased their love and zeal for him, and made his nomination, which came in due time, doubly sure.

This convention, in which Mr. Blaine bore so signal a part, was full of interest, not only for the sake of Mr. Lincoln, but also of Vice-president Hannibal Hamlin, of his own state.

Many eminent men were included in its roll of delegates. Not less than five of the leading war-governors were chosen to participate in its councils. Vermont sent Solomon Foote, who had stood faithful in the senate during the struggle before the war. Massachusetts had commissioned her eloquent governor, John A. Andrew. Henry J. Raymond, Daniel S. Dickinson, and Lyman Tremaine were there from New York. New Jersey and Ohio each sent two ex-governors,--Marcus L. Ward and William A. Newell from the former, and William Dennison and David Tod from the latter. Simon Cameron, Thaddeus Stevens, and Ex-Speaker Grow, of Pennsylvania; Governor Blair and Omer D. Conger, of Michigan; Angus Cameron, of Wisconsin, and George W. McCrary, of Iowa, were among the other delegates.

Governor Morgan, of New York, called the convention to order, and Dr. Robert J. Breckenridge was chosen temporary chairman, who, on taking the chair, delivered the great speech of the convention, as Mr. Blaine thinks. It impressed him deeply, and he refers to it with emotions of admiration to-day.

He was a tall, sturdy man, of Scotch extraction and advanced in years, which, with his history, inspired reverence. His speech was “sharp, sinewy, and defiant.” He had been reared amidst Slavery, but was for the Union. “The nation shall not be destroyed,” he said. “We shall change the Constitution if it suits us to do so. The only enduring, the only imperishable cement of all free institutions, has been the blood of traitors,” he said with thrilling effect; and added regarding Slavery, “Use all power to exterminate and extinguish it.”

“Next to the official platform itself,” said Mr. Blaine, “the speech of Doctor Breckenridge was the most inspiring utterance of the convention.” Every vote in the convention was cast for Mr. Lincoln on the first ballot, except twenty-two from Missouri, which, by instruction, were cast for General Grant.

When congress adjourned, July 4th, the great campaign opened, and into it plunged Mr. Blaine with all the fiery ardor of which his nature was competent, and patriotism prompted, and his personal friendship for Mr. Lincoln could inspire.

Gen. George B. McClellan, who had been the idol of the army for two years and a half, was nominated by the Democrats. Mr. Blaine denominates it “a canvass of extraordinary interest and critical importance.” And such indeed it was, coming as it did right in the midst of the great war, when over a million men were in arms on the continent, and the great summer and fall campaigns were to be fought. It was, indeed, a critical time for heated discussions, the grinding of opposition, the friction of parties, constant irritation, not only at home, throughout every city, village, and hamlet of the North, but throughout the army, in every camp and hospital, on the march, at picket, post, and bivouac,--for the soldiers were to vote.

It was, indeed, a perilous time. No tongue can tell, no mind can even dream, the results that would have followed Mr. Lincoln’s defeat; what reversals of history; what undoing of mighty deeds; what paralysis of moral power in the nation; what defeat of principle; what compromise with wrong; what stagnation, downfall, death. But it was not to be; it could not be. High heaven’s decree was otherwise. Incompetence was not to be rewarded. The great North, when it spoke out for all the world to hear, had no premium to place upon supposed disloyalty. The old ship of state was not to change captains in mid-ocean; he who had brought her by island, and rock, and reef, through storm and tempest, through cyclone and hurricane, safely thus far, was no Jonah, to be cast overboard now. Few people in all the world can know more clearly, feel more deeply, and act more strongly when things thoroughly arouse, than the American people, and none have more to rouse them at times. Indeed, we have the cream of all the nations, and so strike high above the average. We heard of “thinking bayonets” back there, and fife, and drum, and horn that spoke the thoughts and love of men. The triumph was complete.

There were but twenty-one votes in the electoral college, when autumn came, for McClellan, and two hundred and twelve for Mr. Lincoln. The decree of a holy Providence had been recorded with an emphasis as unmistakable as doubtless would have been the case had the Great Emancipator of Israel been subjected to a test-vote in the wilderness.

It is probable that no period of the nation’s history is so bright with victories, both civil and military, as the sixty days succeeding the convention at Chicago, Aug. 29, 1864, which nominated General McClellan for the presidency,--a period in which the labors of Mr. Blaine were indefatigable for the Union cause, and to which he referred with the emphasis of a life-time interest.

The Democrats voted the war a failure, and then placed its leading general up to within less than a year before, upon their platform. And yet, while they were declaring the war a failure, the news came that Fort Morgan was captured, and Sherman took Atlanta the day after they adjourned, and speedily came the successes of Admiral Farragut in Mobile Bay.

A proclamation of thanksgiving was issued by President Lincoln for the great Union victories within two days after they had proposed, practically, to surrender to traitors; and Secretary Seward said in a public speech, “Sherman and Farragut have knocked the planks out of the Chicago platform.”

Meanwhile Grant held Lee in a vise at Petersburgh, and Sheridan, within three weeks of Sherman’s capture of Atlanta, had dashed down the Shenandoah valley and won three brilliant victories in the battles of Winchester, Fisher’s Hill, and Cedar Creek.

The political effect of these victories was just what Mr. Lincoln had predicted. “With reverses in the field,” he said, “the case is doubtful at the polls; but with victory in the field, the election will take care of itself.”

And then came the civil victories,--Maine and Vermont in September (and Mr. Blaine was still chairman of the Republican State Central Committee in Maine, and had to plan the entire campaign, secure speakers, etc., etc.); then in October, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana, wheeled into line, and “registered in advance the edict of the people in regard to the presidency.”

Mr. Blaine had usually to remain in his own state each summer after the adjournment of congress, until after the election, and they had one each year, which occurred the second Monday in September, and as this would come from the eighth to the twelfth of the month it gave him from fifty to sixty days for campaign-work in other states, which, during presidential years, was fully and heartily improved. He was greatly sought for, and would draw immense audiences, and kindle an enthusiasm which would blaze and burn, and smoulder, and then blaze forth again. His offer of a thousand dollars a line for anything that he has written the past year, expressing in any way a desire for the nomination, is proof that his nomination is but the result of the old smouldering fires of almost boundless and unquenchable enthusiasm blazing forth anew. These fires that are burning now have been kindled for ten or twenty years, and they have been chiefly lighted during these fifty or sixty days intervening between September elections in Maine and the October and November elections in other states. While others might go to the mountains or sea-shore to rest and rust, he would breathe for two or three days, and respond to some of the numerous calls for help where the brunt of battle was heaviest, or the enemy seemed strong and desperate.

He was always a hard hitter, and never played at politics. It was business with him, and war. He would wring the neck of a political heresy with all the gusto an old Scotch Covenanter would experience in hounding to the death a religious heresy. There is such a thing as political truth and political virtue to him. It is not fancy and foible, chimera and dream, phantasm and fable, but granite truth, and principle rock-like and firm as adamant.

Something was fought for in the war, and that something has been worth preserving, and is to-day.

It is Liberty in purest form and on grandest scale this world has ever known; the life of all prosperity, the very spirit of peace, the inspiration of all development, the law of all growth, and the harbinger of hope’s brightest anticipations.

And so Mr. Blaine has done his great, best work, not simply in the light of glowing idols, but in the glow of great victories achieved, and the substance of great realities enjoyed, in a mental and moral realization; and a country broad, and grand, and free; its great cities, rivers, forests, lakes, its ocean, mountains, prairies, plains, and all its five and fifty million people, to him a joy.

He takes it in and calls it ours,--the fair inheritance of a people free,--for we inherit one another too, in all that constitutes society, community, city, and country.

We said he hit hard, struck out to win. It is true. Each man before him must squirm or cheer. There were no lookers on; he had no idle issues, but live ones; personal, and things of destiny.

When in Ohio once with Congressman Bingham,--and he did not go that far from home for nothing,--he got up a little political hail-storm for the special benefit of the Democrats present. Such a storm is usually produced by two dark clouds coming together, heavily charged with the double extract of electricity and other substances. He brought one of those clouds with him and manufactured the other one on the spot out of materials in the audience.

The result was a good many were hit, and hail hurts when it has a fair chance to strike, and as that was well aimed it struck square. Among others, a man from the “old sod,”--an Irishman,--who had in him what is rare in Maine,--whiskey,--so after the speaking he made for Mr. Blaine, determined to try his shillalah upon the cranium of the honorable gentleman, but just as he came up, Bookwalter, who ran for governor, seized him, and gave him the direction of the comet which did not know how it came there, or where it was going. At all events, he did not get the whirl, and twist, and buzz out of him in time to find out where he was, or Mr. Blaine either, or to reform his purpose and execute it.

It is said Henry Clay’s speeches had the most effect at the time they were delivered, and that Daniel Webster’s speeches had more effect a week afterwards, when people had had time to think them over, than at the time they were delivered.

You must combine these views to get at the truth regarding Mr. Blaine’s speeches. They have tremendous effect when delivered, and great power afterward. His illustrations, taken right out of daily life, would catch and hold the thought, and illuminate the mind, and make themselves remembered. They would not let go; like some of the things that have clung to us through life, we don’t hold on to them, they hold on themselves.

A speech we heard from him years ago will never leave us. It was on the currency question, which was discussed for years, and, like Banco’s ghost, would not down.

His first sentence will never be forgotten. It was characteristic of the man, and expressed a great principle of his political philosophy. This was it: “_A thing is never settled until it is settled right._”

How true that was of Slavery! how true of the currency question! how true of every great question of moral or religious reform! Until it is settled right it is like a piece of glass in the eye, you cannot get it into a comfortable position; you move it and arrange and re-arrange it, and think now that it is fixed for certain, and just as it ceases to vex you,--like the crooked stick in the fable, so crooked it could not lie still,--it turns over.

In that same speech,--and it moved and swayed thousands then, and clings to them yet like an influence of magic power, moving and swaying them still, in it was a little simple reference to experience he had in California, and it was before specie payments had been resumed, but they were on a gold basis out on the Pacific coast. He had gone into a bank to get a check of three hundred dollars cashed, and he said, “Give me gold,” and they gave him gold, and he divided it up and put it in all his pockets to balance the load, and he went about the city calling here and there, going up long stairways, and over great establishments, and all the while that gold was getting heavier. He would change it about and carry some in his hand. It was such a luxury to have gold and not pay any premium on it. But finally it was too much for him, and in a sort of desperation he went back to the bank, and asked them if they would not give him greenbacks for that gold, and the man said “Yes,” and he took the little roll of greenbacks and put it in his vest-pocket, and was not bothered any more. He acted out the scene with dramatic effect. The incident gave all a new love for the greenback, and less thirst for gold.

It was his delight all through that speech to get questions from the audience, and so settle their difficulties by giving them just the information desired.

His power with an audience lay largely in this method of questioning. He drew near to them, or rather drew them near to him, was helpful and kindly; he would stop in his speech and talk with anyone in the audience that had sensible questions to ask, and so was down to earth all the time, and not up among the clouds “careering on the gale.” And thus he really did something, really accomplished it, and so made progress. He did not fly any eagle, he did not have one along.

Some grocer or laboring man in the crowd asked a question about the revenue on sugar, which Mr. Blaine did not get at first, and an aristocrat on the platform said, “O, never mind him, go on with your speech,” but he had said “What,” and was eagerly listening to get the man’s thought, and said quickly to the honorable gentleman, “Keep still,” and waved his hand back at him to keep quiet, and he heard the laboring man’s question fairly, and answered it, too.

It made all respect him the more, and beside, that was his speech. It was his way of getting error out of the mind and truth in. It does not do much good to shoot off a quantity of powder out doors. It will make a big flash and smoke and noise, but what of that; put it in a cannon behind a ball and give it aim, and then touch it off, and there will be execution.

Mr. Blaine’s method of getting the light into the people was by getting the dark out; like the Dutchman who put a window into his barn to let the dark out, but the same process that let the dark out, let the light in.

He had gotten this colloquial style, it may be in congress, or in Yankee land where they “raise questions.” It is a part of a real live Yankee’s life-work to ask questions. This is his birthright, an inheritance of the soil.

But the practice is very prevalent in congress, where there are a great many lawyers who are skilled in questioning witnesses, and it is a habit with them, carried from their practice in the courts to the halls of legislation; and it is a very convenient and serviceable habit, as the record of proceedings clearly shows.

It may be recalled that the campaign of 1864 was prosecuted so effectually that while McClellan received twenty-one electoral votes, only one of the eighteen free states voting thus honored him, namely: New Jersey,--Kentucky and Delaware joining with her.

The real triumph to Mr. Lincoln was in New York, and we close this chapter by giving it in Mr. Blaine’s own words, for it had attracted his special attention. Horatio Seymour and Reuben E. Fenton were respectively the Democratic and Republican candidates for Governor of New York:--