1. Opening of the Campaign

From canal tow to the presidency. – Private candidates. – The presidential boom. – The American Pythia. – The Republican convention in Chicago. – Grant’s desperate struggle and defeat. – The “dark horse” and the soaring eagle.

Thirty years ago on one of the canals that form their water system in the vicinity of the Great Lakes, among the motley mass of workers engaged in timber rafting and ship towing, one could see a small fifteen-year-old boy who worked on the tow line as a horse driver. The boy was distinguished by an intelligent, open, and energetic face, and was the favorite of the adult workers. His labor was not easy, but he went about it cheerfully each day, and was infinitely happy when at the end of the week he received his usual wages of a few dollars. Thirty years have passed since then, and many of the adult workers are now old men, but still work on the canal as they did thirty years ago. But what became of the little tow-worker? Oh, he experienced many changes during this time, and last year was popularly elected president of the greatest republic in the world. But is he equally happy now as he was then on the canal? – This can only be learned from President Garfield himself, who thanks to the presidency is now helplessly struggling against death…

The political movement which, for better or worse, elevated the canal tow-worker to the presidency is called the presidential campaign, and an account of it can serve as an interesting characterization of the political customs of our trans-Atlantic friends. The first signs of it appeared at the beginning of the presidential year. Each of the major political parties (there are two—the Republican and the Democratic) had to put forward its candidate for popular election. The parties, in turn, are divided into various factions, and here the first struggle began among the factions. Each of them, in accordance with their private interests, tried to put forward their own candidate as the best representative of their interests. The struggle between these private candidates presents a lively picture. Politicians resort to all sorts of means, merely to elevate and popularize their candidate and to denigrate their opponent. They hold open noisy demonstrations and secret meetings; conduct open and underground agitation; publish pamphlets and tributes; put their candidate on the theatrical stage, showing the flaws of others and the virtues of their own. On shop signs you constantly see candidates depicted in one position or another, depending on the political views of the owner; on speculation announcements, theater posters, and wrapping paper you will encounter invitations to vote for this and not that candidate. In short, wherever you turn, you will meet candidates everywhere and in everything. The loudest demonstrations, however, play the main role in the agitation. A person in general, and an American in particular, is so constituted that he pays the most attention to where there is the most noise and commotion—there, supposedly, is greater power. Taking advantage of this weakness, the parties truly “make noise,” producing what is called a “boom.” In the newspapers you constantly read that in such-and-such a state there is a “boom” for such-and-such a candidate, and in another for another. This characteristic name for a noisy demonstration in a presidential campaign is borrowed from the commercial bazaar world. A foreigner, upon arriving, for example, in New York, will encounter a boom within the first few days. Arriving one of the first days of my stay here at the dining room for breakfast, I was struck by a terrible cry that was carried through several voices along an ordinarily quiet street. I rushed to the window and saw five or six men who, like madmen, ran along the street, running from one doorway to another and from one sidewalk to another, and frantically shouted some incomprehensible words.

“What is this? What is this?” I asked my companions almost in fright; but they, accustomed to this phenomenon, only laughed at my confusion and did not explain what was the matter. Then I turned to the landlady, an American old-timer, asking her for clarification; but she too answered me indefinitely that it was crazy people shouting.

“How crazy? What are they shouting? What words are they shouting?” I asked with impatience and annoyance.

“We know that they are shouting, but what they are shouting, no one in the world knows,” the American old-timer finally answered.

Seeing my serious confusion, my American companions explained to me that these people were simply producing a “boom” or noise. Whoever is interested in their cry and asks what is the matter, they will say that in such-and-such an oyster house the freshest oysters in the world have been received, or that three of the world’s greatest luminaries in women’s skirts have been engaged at such-and-such a theater, and meanwhile thrust a card in your hand. Exactly such a boom the parties produce for their candidates.

The most grandiose boom in the Republican party, about which alone we will now speak, was produced by the supporters of General Grant. The agitation for him began as soon as he set foot on American soil after his around-the-world journey. About 80,000 people gathered to receive him. Then followed a series of brilliant demonstrations arranged in all the cities to which the general traveled. Grant’s boom thundered throughout the country and clearly demonstrated, if not power, then the sophistication of political tactics among the general’s friends. The great newspaper “Times,” second in its influence in America, became the spokesman for Grantism, as the Grant movement began to be called, which threatened to drown out all other movements in the Republican party. The reason for Grantism’s success is explained both by the influence of his friends and especially by the political and social state of the country. Recently in the political and social life of our trans-Atlantic friends, symptoms have appeared that give cause for concern to friends of the republic. In governmental spheres bureaucracy develops to terrible proportions, with office-seeking and bribery, and in the economy dangerous conditions are rapidly being prepared for a clash between labor and capital. As a result of all this, people to whom the interests of the republic are dear, seeing no other way out from the threatening dangers, begin to lose faith in healthy public sense and see salvation only in such a “strong man” who could manage to suppress the dangerous symptoms. Their gaze fell upon General Grant, who during the war showed himself to be an energetic fighter for the unity of the union, and during his two-term presidency—as an energetic ruler.

But as everywhere, so in politics—what is health to one is death to another. What the Grantites considered the salvation of the republic, their opponents proclaimed to be the greatest calamity, inevitably leading to the ruin of the republic. When the views of the Grantites became more or less clear, their opponents saw in them nothing less than usurpationist aspirations, directed toward a great political upheaval, like that which the late Napoleon III once amazed the world with. This thought flashed through the country like lightning and found expression even in the “Herald,” the largest and most widely distributed American newspaper. The newspaper published a series of articles that seriously attacked both the general and his party for the Caesarism with which they threatened the country. What especially disturbed the politicians of the anti-Grant camp was that Grant was seeking the presidency for a “third term,” something that had never happened in all the existence of the republic and which the great liberator of the country, Washington, having himself declined the presidency for a third term, had cautioned against. If General Grant is now seeking the presidency for a third term—contrary to the republican traditions of the country and the testament of its liberator and founder of the republic—then clearly, argued the anti-Grantites, usurpation and Caesarism lie behind this. Thus the Grant party encountered a serious opponent, relying on the living republican feeling of the people and acting in the name of this feeling. The press came out against Grant, the humorous and satirical newspapers depicted him only in a crown, and on the stages of public theaters there appeared comic operettas depicting General Grant’s ascension to the imperial throne under the name Ulysses I. At a colossal ball at which 15,000 people participated, amid the height of dancing and pleasures, a rider suddenly appeared from a side door with a crown on his head, followed by a whole mass of courtiers with banners, trumpets, timpani, and shouts of “Long live the Emperor.” The face of the rider depicted General Grant with remarkable accuracy, while the banners displayed coats of arms with the name Ulysses I. This joke at the expense of the Grant party had great success and popularity.

The friends of the American emperor, however, did not lose heart and set off for the Republican convention in Chicago with full confidence.

In the central part of New York, where the fashionable element begins to predominate over the industrial, two main and richest streets of the city—Broadway and Fifth Avenue—meet at an acute angle, forming a thin arrow pointed toward the shady square, a favorite place for evening strolls of city dwellers. The arrow commands the entire vast square, usually crowded with people, and all the populous space formed by the joined streets up to their division. Such a busy and conspicuous place could not remain without special use. One clever Yankee set up over the arrow something like a magic lantern, which by means of machinery, magnifying glasses, and electric light shows every evening enormous pictures visible from the entire square and the space adjacent to it. The pictures change every five or six minutes, or in general enough time to read the text on them. The text instructs you where you can eat the freshest oysters in the world, obtain the cheapest yet most elegant costume, rent the most comfortable apartment in the world, marry the most beautiful yet also most modest woman in the world, etc. In short, here you see an extraordinarily original application of the magic lantern to the field of speculators’ announcements. The pictures only serve as bait. This form of advertisement enjoys great popularity here, and the fortunate inventor of the lantern is simply overwhelmed with orders and collects large profits. But at the same time he is an ardent politician, and from time to time his magic lantern communicates important political bulletins before anyone else. During presidential elections the lantern plays a leading role, and before it, on the square and on all free places, innumerable masses of people gather, waiting for important news from the lantern. With such masses of people engaged in politics, the square was crowded in the first days of June 1880. At that time in the city of Chicago was taking place the convention of the Republican party to nominate the Republican candidate for the presidency, and in New York everyone eagerly awaited news from there. When on the 7th the lantern began showing figures representing the count of votes for one or another candidate, then depending on the way they leaned, the square was filled now with triumphant hurrahs, now with angry hissing, and the crowd of many thousands of passionately arguing politicians presented an interesting spectacle in the darkness, with only the glimmering of stars in the dark sky. Those of the politicians who for some reason could not come to the square sent boys who, like imps, scurried through the crowds and, having learned the reading from the American Pythia, shot off like arrows to their mysterious senders. Thus did politicians agonize from a thousand miles away from the place of the actual event; what was happening in Chicago at the convention itself—this is hard to describe.

The Republican convention in Chicago will remain a memorable event in the history of the American people forever. It clearly revealed sides of their political life that had not been noticed before. From the external side it attracted attention already in that the strongest candidate there was General Grant, whose selection for a “third term” simply drove out of their minds a good half of the Republican party, who saw in this a glaring violation and insult to republican traditions, a manifest Caesarism and usurpation. As a result, the struggle between Grant’s supporters and opponents was expected to be fierce, and to observe its ups and downs more than 100,000 people gathered in Chicago. Already crowded as it was, the city in the first days of June presented a veritable sea of people, and all the more turbulent because in each of them political blood was simmering and boiling. The parties conducted their final booms for their candidates even before the sessions began, arranged noisy processions through the city with banners and music, and resourceful commissioners with unmistakable courtesy met delegates at the railroad stations and offered free lodgings in hotels—of course at the expense of unknown strangers.

Each state sent its delegates to the national Republican convention under the leadership of skilled politicians. There were 756 delegates in all, of which 379 were necessary for election. Several candidates appeared, but the main ones were three: General Grant, who had the strongest party behind him; Senator Blaine, a skilled politician; and Secretary of State Sherman, who openly used his important financial position to promote his candidacy. There were several other candidates as well, but quite insignificant, supported only by their respective states. The center of struggle should have been among the three main candidates. And the struggle began. The Grantites represented the strongest party, but not all in their ranks were equally devoted to Grant, and many of them were inclined to prefer the golden calf to even the most valiant general. Opponents, of course, understood this and opened a real auction. The colored delegates, who in general stand behind Grant as their liberator from slavery, proved to be the most pliable, and many of them went for such a price as they had not been sold for even during slavery. Toward other, less mercenary delegates, the contending sides used different means; agitation in the hall, which held more than ten thousand people, often reached such a degree that the entire assembly seemed seized by the madness of shouting and cries, and it was hard to think that any of the delegates remained without deafness and torn lungs. Each party was afraid to proceed directly to balloting, and so for six whole days they engaged in preliminary struggle, wrenching votes from each other.

At last the voting began and the result was the following table:

Grant received… 304

Blaine “… 284

Sherman” … 96

Washburne received… 32

Edmunds “… 40

Windom”… 10

This result showed that Grant had after all a majority of votes, but however not such as could secure him an unquestionable victory. The supporters of the other candidates were all against the “third term,” and therefore in case of a union of forces on some single candidate they could easily beat the Grantites. But in any case, the first vote gave no one the necessary number of votes for election—379. Therefore a second ballot was proceeded to. The result turned out to be the same. During the preliminary bitter struggle the parties had become so shuffled that one could not have hoped for a better shuffling of delegates. During the second ballot only very insignificant changes occurred in the distribution of votes, and notably, one vote was cast for General Garfield, about whom there had been no mention in the first ballot. No one paid attention to this vote, but it was destined to become fateful for the convention. Since the necessary number of votes for election was again not received, a third ballot was proceeded to—and again with the same result. And so the whole day passed, twenty ballots were taken, and the twentieth in general differed not at all from the first in the distribution of votes. Sweat poured in streams from the delegates and thousands of spectators crowded in the stuffy hall; many of them were ready to vote for the first available candidate just to finish with this matter as quickly as possible; but others declared they were ready to vote all summer long, as long as they held the battlefield for their candidate. The session ended at 11 o’clock at night, the parties left with a sense of annoyance and uncertainty; only the Grantites showed some cheerfulness: the twentieth ballot gave Grant 308 votes, 4 more than the first. Garfield with his one vote now appeared, now disappeared again.