My Memories of Eighty Years [31]
through the Associated Press that you have been defeated." I did not have the heart to see these poor fellows dismissed from their employment, and I assented to the proposition.
When we arrived at the convention Governor Cornell, then State chairman, called to order. I arose to make a motion, when he announced: "You, sir, are not a member of this convention." My credentials, however, under the arrangement made in Westchester, convinced him that he was misinformed. The Conkling side selected for their chairman Andrew D. White, and the other side selected me. Upon careful canvass of the votes we had a clear majority.
There were several delegations which were controIled by federal office-holders. It is at this point that patronage becomes overwhelmingly effective. Several of those office-holders were shown telegrams from Washington, which meant their removal unless they did as directed by Senator Conkling. When the convention met the next day, the office-holders kept their heads on their shoulders, and my dear and valued old friend, Andrew D. White, was elected chairman of the convention.
I asked the leader of the federal crowd from Westchester how he explained my getting into the convention. "Oh," he said, "that was easy. Our people gained so many delegates by offers of patronage and threats of removal that when I told them you had bought my delegates away from me, they believed it without question, and we are all safe in our places in the Custom House." My success was entirely due to the farmers' indignation at federal dictation, and the campaign did not cost me a dollar.
Roscoe Conkling was created by nature for a great career. That he missed it was entirely his own fault. Physically he was the handsomest man of his time. His mental equipment nearly approached genius. He was industrious to a degree. His oratorical gifts were of the highest order, and he was a debater of rare power and resources. But his intolerable egotism deprived him of vision necessary for supreme leadership. With all his oratorical power and his talent in debate, he made little impression upon the country and none upon posterity. His position in the Senate was a masterful one, and on the platform most attractive, but none of his speeches appear in the schoolbooks or in the collections of great orations. The reason was that his wonderful gifts were wholly devoted to partisan discussions and local issues.
His friends regarded his philippic against George W. Curtis at the Republican State convention at Rochester as the high-water mark of his oratory. I sat in the seat next to Mr. Curtis when Conkling delivered his famous attack. His admirers thought this the best speech he ever made, and it certainly was a fine effort, emphasized by oratory of a high order, and it was received by them with the wildest enthusiasm and applause.
The assault upon Mr. Curtis was exceedingly bitter, the denunciation very severe, and every resource of sarcasm, of which Mr. Conkling was past master, was poured upon the victim. His bitterness was caused by Mr. Curtis's free criticism of him on various occasions. The speech lasted two hours, and it was curious to note its effect upon Mr. Curtis. Under the rules which the convention had adopted, he could not reply, so he had to sit and take it. The only feeling or evidence of being hurt by his punishment was in exclamations at different points made by his assailant. They were: "Remarkable!" "Extraordinary!" "What an exhibition!" "Bad temper!" "Very bad temper!"
In the long controversy between them Mr. Curtis had the advantages which the journalist always possesses. The orator has one opportunity on the platform and the publication the next day in the press. The editor--and Mr. Curtis was at that time editor of Harper's Weekly--can return every Saturday and have an exclusive hearing by an audience limited only by the circulation of his newspaper and the quotations from it by journalistic friends.
The speech illustrated ConkIing's methods of preparation. I used to hear from the
When we arrived at the convention Governor Cornell, then State chairman, called to order. I arose to make a motion, when he announced: "You, sir, are not a member of this convention." My credentials, however, under the arrangement made in Westchester, convinced him that he was misinformed. The Conkling side selected for their chairman Andrew D. White, and the other side selected me. Upon careful canvass of the votes we had a clear majority.
There were several delegations which were controIled by federal office-holders. It is at this point that patronage becomes overwhelmingly effective. Several of those office-holders were shown telegrams from Washington, which meant their removal unless they did as directed by Senator Conkling. When the convention met the next day, the office-holders kept their heads on their shoulders, and my dear and valued old friend, Andrew D. White, was elected chairman of the convention.
I asked the leader of the federal crowd from Westchester how he explained my getting into the convention. "Oh," he said, "that was easy. Our people gained so many delegates by offers of patronage and threats of removal that when I told them you had bought my delegates away from me, they believed it without question, and we are all safe in our places in the Custom House." My success was entirely due to the farmers' indignation at federal dictation, and the campaign did not cost me a dollar.
Roscoe Conkling was created by nature for a great career. That he missed it was entirely his own fault. Physically he was the handsomest man of his time. His mental equipment nearly approached genius. He was industrious to a degree. His oratorical gifts were of the highest order, and he was a debater of rare power and resources. But his intolerable egotism deprived him of vision necessary for supreme leadership. With all his oratorical power and his talent in debate, he made little impression upon the country and none upon posterity. His position in the Senate was a masterful one, and on the platform most attractive, but none of his speeches appear in the schoolbooks or in the collections of great orations. The reason was that his wonderful gifts were wholly devoted to partisan discussions and local issues.
His friends regarded his philippic against George W. Curtis at the Republican State convention at Rochester as the high-water mark of his oratory. I sat in the seat next to Mr. Curtis when Conkling delivered his famous attack. His admirers thought this the best speech he ever made, and it certainly was a fine effort, emphasized by oratory of a high order, and it was received by them with the wildest enthusiasm and applause.
The assault upon Mr. Curtis was exceedingly bitter, the denunciation very severe, and every resource of sarcasm, of which Mr. Conkling was past master, was poured upon the victim. His bitterness was caused by Mr. Curtis's free criticism of him on various occasions. The speech lasted two hours, and it was curious to note its effect upon Mr. Curtis. Under the rules which the convention had adopted, he could not reply, so he had to sit and take it. The only feeling or evidence of being hurt by his punishment was in exclamations at different points made by his assailant. They were: "Remarkable!" "Extraordinary!" "What an exhibition!" "Bad temper!" "Very bad temper!"
In the long controversy between them Mr. Curtis had the advantages which the journalist always possesses. The orator has one opportunity on the platform and the publication the next day in the press. The editor--and Mr. Curtis was at that time editor of Harper's Weekly--can return every Saturday and have an exclusive hearing by an audience limited only by the circulation of his newspaper and the quotations from it by journalistic friends.
The speech illustrated ConkIing's methods of preparation. I used to hear from the