Part 3

I was elected to the assembly, the popular branch of the New York Legislature, in 1861. I was nominated during an absence from the State, without being a candidate or knowing of it until my return. Of course, I could expect nothing from my father, and my own earnings were not large, so I had to rely upon a personal canvass of a district which had been largely spoiled by rich candidates running against each other and spending large amounts of money. I made a hot canvass, speaking every day, and with an investment of less than one hundred dollars for travel and other expenses I was triumphantly elected.

By far the most interesting member of the legislature was the speaker, Henry J. Raymond. He was one of the most remarkable men I ever met. During the session I became intimate with him, and the better I knew him the more I became impressed with his genius, the variety of his attainments, the perfection of his equipment, and his ready command of all his powers and resources. Raymond was then editor of the New York Times and contributed a leading article every day. He was the best debater we had and the most convincing. I have seen him often, when some other member was in the chair of the committee of the whole, and we were discussing a critical question, take his seat on the floor and commence writing an editorial. As the debate progressed, he would rise and participate. When he had made his point, which he always did with directness and lucidity, he would resume writing his editorial. The debate would usually end with Mr. Raymond carrying his point and also finishing his editorial, an example which seems to refute the statement of metaphysicians that two parts of the mind cannot work at the same time.

Two years afterwards, when I was secretary of state, I passed much of my time at Saratoga, because it was so near Albany. Mr. Raymond was also there writing the "Life of Abraham Lincoln." I breakfasted with him frequently and found that he had written for an hour or more before breakfast. He said to me in explanation that if one would take an hour before breakfast every morning and concentrate his mind upon his subject, he would soon fill a library.

Mr. Raymond had been as a young man a reporter in the United States Senate. He told me that, while at that time there was no system of shorthand or stenography, he had devised a crude one for himself, by which he could take down accurately any address of a deliberate speaker.

Daniel Webster, the most famous orator our country has ever produced, was very deliberate in his utterances. He soon discovered Raymond's ability, and for several years he always had Raymond with him, and once said to him: "Except for you, the world would have very few of my speeches. Your reports have preserved them."

Mr. Raymond told me this story of Mr. Webster's remarkable memory. Once he said to Mr. Webster: "You never use notes and apparently have made no preparation, yet you are the only speaker I report whose speeches are perfect in structure, language, and rhetoric. How is this possible?" Webster replied: "It is my memory. I can prepare a speech, revise and correct it in my memory, and then deliver the corrected speech exactly as finished." I have known most of the great orators of the world, but none had any approach to a faculty like this, though several could repeat after second reading the speech which they had prepared.

In 1862 I was candidate for re-election to the assembly. Political conditions had so changed that they were almost reversed. The enthusiasm of the war which had carried the Republicans into power the year before had been succeeded by general unrest. Our armies had been defeated, and industrial and commercial depression was general.

The leader of the Democratic Party in the State was Dean Richmond. He was one of those original men of great brain-power, force, and character, knowledge of men, and executive ability, of which that period had a number. From the humblest beginning he had worked his way in politics to the leadership of his party, to the presidency of the greatest corporation in the State, the New York Central Railroad Company, and in his many and successful adventures had accumulated a fortune. His foresight was almost a gift of prophecy, and his judgment was rarely wrong. He believed that the disasters in the field and the bad times at home could be charged up to the Lincoln administration and lead to a Democratic victory. He also believed that there was only one man in the party whose leadership would surely win, and that man was Horatio Seymour. But Seymour had higher ambitions than the governorship of New York and was very reluctant to run. Nevertheless, he could not resist Richmond's insistence that he must sacrifice himself, if necessary, to save the party.

The Republicans nominated General James W. Wadsworth for governor. Wadsworth had enlisted at the beginning of the war and made a most brilliant record, both as a fighting soldier and administrator. The Republican party was sharply divided between radicals who insisted on immediate emancipation of the slaves, and conservatives who thought the time had not yet arrived for such a revolution. The radicals were led by Horace Greeley, and the conservatives by Thurlow Weed and Henry J. Raymond.

Horatio Seymour made a brilliant canvass. He had no equal in the State in either party in charm of personality and attractive oratory. He united his party and brought to its ranks all the elements of unrest and dissatisfaction with conditions, military and financial. While General Wadsworth was an ideal candidate, he failed to get the cordial and united support of his party. He represented its progressive tendencies as expressed and believed by President Lincoln, and was hostile to reaction. Under these conditions Governor Seymour carried the State.

The election had reversed the overwhelming Republican majority in the legislature of the year before by making the assembly a tie. I was re-elected, but by reduced majority. The assembly being a tie, it was several weeks before it could organize. I was the candidate in the caucus of the Republican members for speaker, but after the nomination one of the members, named Bemus, threatened to bolt and vote for the Democratic candidate unless his candidate, Sherwood, was made the nominee. So many believed that Bemus would carry out his threat, which would give the organization of the House to the Democrats by one majority, that I withdrew in favor of Sherwood. After voting hopelessly in a deadlock, day after day for a long period, a caucus of the Republican members was called, at which Sherwood withdrew, and on his motion I was nominated as the party candidate for speaker.

During the night a Democratic member, T.C. Callicot, of Kings County, came to my bedroom and said: "My ambition in life is to be speaker of the assembly. Under the law the legislature cannot elect the United States senator unless each House has first made a nomination, then the Senate and the House can go into joint convention, and a majority of that convention elect a senator. You Republicans have a majority in the Senate, so that if the House nominates, the legislature can go into joint convention and elect a Republican senator. As long as the House remains a tie this cannot be done. Now, what I propose is just this: Before we meet tomorrow morning, if you will call your members together and nominate me for speaker, the vote of your party and I voting for myself will elect me. Then I will agree to name General Dix, a Democrat, for United States senator, and if your people will all vote with me for him he will be the assembly nominee. The Senate has already nominated Governor Morgan. So the next day the legislature can go into joint convention and, having a Republican majority, elect Governor Morgan United States senator." I told Mr. Callicot that I would present the matter to my party associates.

In the early morning Saxton Smith and Colonel John Van Buren, two of the most eminent Democrats in the State and members of the legislature, came to me and said: "We know what Callicot has proposed. Now, if you will reject that proposition we will elect you speaker practically unanimously."

This assured my election for the speakership. I had a great ambition to be on that roll of honor, and as I would have been the youngest man ever elected to the position, my youth added to the distinction. On the other hand, the government at Washington needed an experienced senator of its own party, like Edwin D. Morgan, who had been one of the ablest and most efficient of war governors, both in furnishing troops and helping the credit of the country. I finally decided to surrender the speakership for myself to gain the senatorship for my party. I had difficulty in persuading my associates, but they finally agreed. Callicot was elected speaker and Edwin D. Morgan United States senator.

The event was so important and excited so much interest, both in the State and in the country, that representative men came to Albany in great numbers. The rejoicing and enthusiasm were intense at having secured so unexpectedly a United States Senator for the support of Mr. Lincoln's administration.

That night they all united in giving me a reception in the ballroom of the hotel. There was a flood of eulogistic and prophetic oratory. I was overwhelmed with every form of flattery and applause, for distinguished service to the party. By midnight I had been nominated and elected Governor of the State, and an hour later I was already a United States senator. Before the morning hour the presidency of the United States was impatiently waiting for the time when I would be old enough to be eligible. All this was soon forgotten. It is a common experience of the instability of promises and hopes which come from gratified and happy enthusiasts, and how soon they are dissipated like a dream! I have seen many such instances, and from this early experience deeply sympathize with the disillusionized hero.

The Democrats of the assembly and also of the State were determined that Mr. Callicot should not enjoy the speakership. They started investigations in the House and movements in the courts to prevent him from taking his seat. The result was that I became acting speaker and continued as such until Mr. Callicot had defeated his enemies and taken his place as speaker in the latter part of the session.

I was also chairman of the committee of ways and means and the leader of the House. The budget of my committee was larger than usual on account of the expenses of the war. It was about seven million dollars. It created much more excitement and general discussion than does the present budget of one hundred and forty millions. The reason is the difference in conditions and public necessities of the State of New York in the winter of 1863 and now. It is also partly accounted for by the fact that the expenses of the State had then to be met by a real-estate tax which affected everybody, while now an income tax has been adopted which is capable of unlimited expansion and invites limitless extravagance because of the comparatively few interested.

Eighteen hundred and sixty-three was an eventful year; the early part was full of gloom and unrest. Horatio Seymour, as governor, violently antagonized President Lincoln and his policies. Seymour was patriotic and very able, but he was so saturated with State rights and strict construction of the Constitution that it marred his judgment and clouded his usually clear vision. In the critical situation of the country Mr. Lincoln saw the necessity of support of the State of New York. The president said: "The governor has greater power just now for good than any other man in the country. He can wheel the Democratic party into line, put down the rebellion and preserve the government. Tell him from me that if he will render this service to his country, I shall cheerfully make way for him as my successor." To this message, sent through Thurlow Weed, Governor Seymour made no reply. He did not believe that the South could be defeated and the Union preserved.

Later President Lincoln sent a personal letter to the governor. It was a very human epistle. The president wrote: "You and I are substantially strangers, and I write this that we may become better acquainted. In the performance of duty the co-operation of your State is needed and is indispensable. This alone is sufficient reason why I should wish to be on a good understanding with you. Please write me at least as long a letter as this, of course saying in it just what you think fit."

Governor Seymour made no reply. He and the other Democratic leaders thought the president uncouth, unlettered, and very weak. The phrase "please write me at least as long a letter as this" produced an impression upon the scholarly, cultured, cautious, and diplomatic Seymour which was most unfavorable to its author. Seymour acknowledged the receipt of the letter and promised to make a reply, but never did.

Seymour's resentment was raised to fever heat when General Burnside, in May, 1863, arrested Clement L. Vallandigham. The enemies of the war and peace at any price people, and those who were discouraged, called mass meetings all over the country to protest this arrest as an outrage. A mass meeting was called in Albany on the 16th of May. Erastus Corning, one of the most eminent Democrats in the State, presided.

I was in Albany at the time and learned this incident. One of Governor Seymour's intimate friends, his adviser and confidant in personal business affairs was Charles Cook, who had been comptroller of the State and a State senator. Cook was an active Republican, a very shrewd and able man. He called on the governor and tried to persuade him not to write a letter to the Vallandigham meeting, but if he felt he must say something, attend the meeting and make a speech. Cook said: "Governor, the country is going to sustain ultimately the arrest of Vallandigham. It will be proved that he is a traitor to the government and a very dangerous man to be at large. Whatever is said at the meeting will seriously injure the political future of the authors. If you write a letter it will be on record, so I beg you, if you must participate, attend the meeting and make a speech. A letter cannot be denied; it can always be claimed that a speech has been misreported."

The Governor wrote the letter, one of the most violent of his utterances, and it was used against him with fatal effect when he ran for governor, and also when a candidate for president.

On July 11th the draft began in New York City. It had been denounced as unconstitutional by every shade of opposition to Mr. Lincoln's administration and to the prosecution of the war. The attempt to enforce it led to one of the most serious riots in the history of the city, and the rage of the rioters was against the officers of the law, the headquarters of the draft authorities, and principally against the negroes. Every negro who was caught was hung or burned, and the negro orphan asylum was destroyed by fire. The governor did his best to stop the rioting. He issued a proclamation declaring the city in a state of insurrection, and commanded obedience to the law and the authorities.

In this incident again the governor permitted his opposition to the war to lead him into political indiscretion. He made a speech from the steps of the City Hall to the rioters. He began by addressing them as "My friends." The governor's object was to quiet the mob and send them to their homes. So instead of saying "fellow citizens" he used the fatal words "my friends." No two words were ever used against a public man with such fatal effect. Every newspaper opposed to the governor and every orator would describe the horrors, murders, and destruction of property by the mob and then say: "These are the people whom Governor Seymour in his speech from the steps of the City Hall addressed as 'my friends.'"

The Vallandigham letter and this single utterance did more harm to Governor Seymour's future ambitions than all his many eloquent speeches against Lincoln's administration and the conduct of the war.

The political situation, which had been so desperate for the national administration, changed rapidly for the better with the victory at Gettysburg, which forced General Lee out of Pennsylvania and back into Virginia, and also by General Grant's wonderful series of victories at Vicksburg and other places which liberated the Mississippi River.