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The United States Since The Civil War by Charles Ramsdell Lingley

C >> Charles Ramsdell Lingley >> The United States Since The Civil War

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Our progress toward a wise conclusion will not be improved by
dwelling upon the theories of protection and free trade. This
savors too much of bandying epithets. It is a _condition_ which
confronts us, not a theory.

The effect of the message was immediate. Men began at once to take
sides as if everybody had been waiting for a leader to speak his mind;
and the parties adopted the definite principles to which they adhered
for many years afterwards. The Democrats very generally rallied to the
support of their champion; gaps in the ranks were closed up; and
doubtless the usual pressure was applied to obstinate members who were
disinclined to follow the leader. The Republican attitude was well
expressed in the phrase of one of the politicians: "It is free-trade,
and we have 'em!" The most prominent Republican, James G. Blaine, was
in Paris, but true to his instinctive recognition of a good political
opportunity he gave an interview which was immediately cabled to
America. In it Blaine maintained that tariff reduction would harm the
entire country, and especially the South and the farmers, and urged the
reduction of the surplus by the abolition of the tax on tobacco, which
he termed the poor man's luxury. The "Paris Message" was generally
looked upon as the Republican answer to Cleveland, and as pointing to
Blaine as the inevitable candidate for the ensuing campaign. On one
point, most men of both parties were agreed--that the President had
displayed great courage. "The presidential chair," declared James
Russell Lowell, "has a MAN in it, and this means that every word he
_says_ is weighted with what he _is_."

The chairman of the Ways and Means Committee in the House of
Representatives, Roger Q. Mills, promptly presented a bill which
conformed to the principles for which the President had argued. The
discussion of the Mills bill was long known as the "Great Tariff Debate
of 1888." The House seethed with it for more than a month. Mills and
Carlisle on one side and William McKinley and Thomas B. Reed on the
other typified the new leadership and the new positions which the
parties were taking. Senator Morrill's idea that the war tariff was a
temporary one, President Arthur's advice that the tariff be revised,
the recommendations of the Tariff Commission of 1882 that reductions
were necessary,--all these were no longer heard. Instead, the
Republicans upheld the protective system as the cause of the unexampled
prosperity of the nation. It is not to be supposed that protectionist
or reductionist converts were made by the endless discussion, but the
initial prejudices of each side were undoubtedly deepened. Each telling
blow on either side was applauded by the partisans of each particular
speaker, so that "applause" fairly dots the dull pages of the
Congressional Record. McKinley enlivened his colleagues by pulling from
his desk and exhibiting a suit of clothes which he had purchased for
$10.00, a figure, he asserted, which proved that the tariff did not
raise prices beyond the reach of the laboring man. Mills tracked down
the cost of the suit and the tariff on the materials composing it, and
further entertained the House by an exhibit showing that it cost $4.98
to manufacture the suit and that the remainder of the price which the
laborer paid was due to the tariff. In the end, the Mills bill passed
the House with but four Democrats voting against it. Randall was so ill
that he was unable to be present when the final vote was taken, but a
letter from him declaring his opposition to the bill was greeted with
great applause on the Republican side. Randall's day was past, however,
and leadership was passing to new men.

Meanwhile the Republicans in the Senate, where they were in control,
had prepared a tariff bill which was designed to give evidence of the
sort of act which would be passed if they were successful in the
campaign. Senator Allison and Senator Aldrich were influential in this
connection. The passage of leadership in tariff matters to Senator
Aldrich and men of his type was as significant as the transition in the
House. Aldrich was from Rhode Island, an able man who had had
experience in state affairs, had served in the federal House of
Representatives and had been in the Senate since 1881. He had already
laid the foundations of the great financial and industrial connections
which gave him an intimate, personal interest in protection and which
later made him an important figure in American industry and politics.
Since neither party controlled both branches of Congress, it was
impossible to pass either the Mills bill or the Senate measure; but the
proposed legislation indicated what might be expected to result from
the election. Each side had thoroughly committed itself on the tariff
question.

In the meanwhile, great interest attached to the question of leaders
for the campaign. Opposition to Cleveland was not lacking. His efforts
in behalf of civil service reform had not endeared him to the
office-seekers, and the hostility of the Democrats in the Senate was
shown by their feeble support of him. The West did not relish his
opposition to silver coinage, while his vetoes of pension legislation
were productive of some hostility, even in his own party. Nor was the
personality of the President such as to allay ill-feeling. Indeed,
Cleveland was in a position comparable to that of Hayes eight years
before. He was the titular party leader, but the most prominent
Democratic politicians were not in agreement with his principles, and
any step taken by him was likely to arouse as much hostility in some
Democratic quarters as among the Republicans. Opposition to his
nomination focused upon David B. Hill, Governor of New York, a man who
was looked upon as better disposed towards the claims of party workers
for office. Other leaders like Bayard, Thurman and Carlisle aroused
little enthusiasm, and the gradual drift of sentiment toward Cleveland
became unmistakable. If the politicians did not accept him with joy,
they at least accepted him; for he was master of the party for the
moment at least, and his hold on a large body of the rank and file was
not to be doubted. When the Democratic convention met in St. Louis in
June, 1888, his nomination was made without the formality of a
ballot.[1]

The platform was devoted, for the most part, to the question of revenue
reform, indorsing the President's tariff message and urging that the
party be given control of Congress in order that Democratic principles
might be put into effect. Resolutions were also adopted recommending
the passage of the Mills bill, which was still under discussion when
the convention met.

Among the Republicans the choice of a candidate was a far more
difficult matter. The probable choice of the party was Blaine, but his
letter from Italy, where he was travelling early in the convention
year, forbade the use of his name and opened the contest to a great
number of less well-known leaders. Publicly it was stated that Blaine
refused for reasons which were "entirely personal," but intimate
friends knew that he would accept a nomination if it came without
solicitation and as the result of a unanimous party call. Although the
demand for him still continued, there were smaller "booms" for various
favorite sons, and as his ill health continued he made known his
irrevocable decision to withdraw. Except for Blaine, the most prominent
contender was Senator Sherman, whose candidacy reached larger
proportions than ever before. The Ohio delegation was unitedly in his
favor and considerable numbers of southern delegates were expected to
vote for him. On the other hand, his lack of personal magnetism was
against him and his career had been connected with technical matters
which did not make a popular appeal. On the first ballot in the
nominating convention his lead was considerable, although not decisive,
but no fewer than thirteen other leaders also received votes. One of
these was Senator Benjamin Harrison of Indiana whom Blaine had
suggested as an available man and whom the New York delegation
considered a strong candidate because he was poor, a reputable senator,
a distinguished volunteer officer in the war and a grandson of William
H. Harrison of Tippecanoe fame. Further voting only emphasized the lack
of unanimity until the eighth ballot, when the delegates suddenly
turned to Harrison and nominated him.

The platform was long and verbose. It devoted much attention to the
protective tariff which, in imitation of Henry Clay, it entitled the
"American system"; it advocated the reduction of internal revenue
duties, if necessary to cut down the surplus; and it urged civil
service reform, liberal pensions and laws to control oppressive
corporations.

Two factions of the Labor party, as well as the Prohibitionists,
nominated candidates and urged programs to which no attention was paid,
but which were later taken up by both the great parties, such as
arbitration in labor disputes, an income tax, the popular election of
senators, woman suffrage and the prohibition of the manufacture of
alcoholic beverages.

The campaign deserves attention because of the unusual elements that
entered into it. A spectacular feature which, although not new, was
developed on a large scale, was the formation of thousands of political
clubs, which paraded evenings with flaming torches. In this type of
organization the Republicans were more successful than the Democrats
and thus steered many young men into the party at a time when they were
looking forward to casting their first ballot. The most unwholesome
feature was, as before, the methods used to finance the campaign. In
this connection both parties were guilty, but the Republicans were able
to tap a new source of supply. The campaign was in the hands of Matthew
S. Quay, a Pennsylvania senator whose career as a public official left
much to be desired. Quay's political methods were vividly described at
a later time by his friend and admirer Thomas C. Platt, whose account
lost none of its delightfulness in view of the fact that Platt
obviously felt that he was complimenting his friend in telling the
story. Believing in the "rights" of business men in politics, Platt
declared, Quay was always able to raise any amount of money needed,
although when funds were raised by business interests against him, he
lifted the "fiery cross" and virtuously exposed his opponents before
the people. Having calculated with skill the number of votes needed for
victory, he found out where he could get them--"and then he got them."

That Quay was able to tap a new source of supply was due to a
combination of circumstances. It will be remembered that the Pendleton
civil service act of 1883 had forbidden the assessment of
office-holders in political campaigns, and had made it necessary to
procure funds elsewhere. In the campaign of 1888, business men who
believed that the success of Cleveland would hurt their interests, and
manufacturers who profited directly by the protective tariff rallied to
the defence of Harrison and contributed heavily to his campaign
fund.[2]

The use to which the funds thus contributed were put was revealed in a
letter written apparently by W.W. Dudley, treasurer of the National
Republican Committee, and sent to party leaders in Indiana. The latter
were directed to find out who had the "Democratic boodle" and force
them, presumably by competition, to pay big prices for their own men.
The leaders were also instructed to "divide the floaters into blocks of
five and put a trusted man with the necessary funds in charge of these
five, and make him responsible that none get away, and that all vote
our ticket."

On the other hand the most wholesome feature of the campaign was its
educational aspect. Hundreds of societies, tons of "literature,"
thousands of stump speeches attacked and defended the tariff.
Schoolboys glibly retailed the standard arguments on one side or the
other. Attention was centered, as it had not been since the war, on an
important issue.

At the close of the campaign the Republicans played a trick which was
reminiscent of the Morey letter of Garfield's day. A letter purporting
to be from a Charles F. Murchison, a naturalized American of English
birth, was sent to the British minister in Washington, Lord
Sackville-West. Murchison requested the minister's opinion as to
whether President Cleveland's hostile policy in a recent controversy
with Canada had been adopted for campaign purposes and whether after
election the President would be more friendly toward England. Lord
Sackville indiscreetly replied that he believed President Cleveland
would show a conciliatory spirit toward Great Britain. The
correspondence was held back until shortly before the election and was
then published in the newspapers and on hand bills. Republicans
triumphantly declared that Cleveland was the "British candidate." The
President was at first inclined to overlook the incident but eventually
gave way to pressure and dismissed the minister, whereupon the English
government refused to fill the vacancy until there was a change of
administration.

In the ensuing election the vote cast was unusually heavy; the
protectionists felt that a supreme effort must be made to preserve the
tariff system, and the Democrats, having experienced the joys of power,
were determined not to loosen their grip on authority; the
Prohibitionists increased their vote over that of 1884 by 100,000,
while the Labor party cast 147,000, almost as many ballots as the
Prohibitionists had numbered in the earlier year. Cleveland received
somewhat over 100,000 more votes than Harrison, but his support was so
placed that his electoral vote was sixty-five less than his opponent's.

From the standpoint of political history the result was unfortunate.
The tariff question had been sadly in need of a definite answer, the
people had been educated upon it and had given a decision, but the
electoral system placed in power the party pledged to the theories of
the minority. Aside from the unusual effect of our machinery of
election, many small elements entered into the Republican victory. Some
of the Independents had become disaffected since 1884 and had returned
to the Republican fold. Disgruntled office-seekers opposed a President
who did not reward his workers. In New York, which was the decisive
factor, Hill was a candidate for re-election as governor and was
elected by a small majority, while Cleveland lost the state by 7,000
votes. This gave color to charges that the enemies of the President had
made a bargain with the Republicans by which the latter voted for Hill
as governor and the Democrats for Harrison as President.

Benjamin Harrison, veteran of the Civil War in which he had attained
the rank of brevet brigadier-general, and senator from Indiana for a
single term, was hardly a party leader when he was nominated for the
presidency. Although he was by no means unknown, he had been
sufficiently obscure to be unconnected with factional party quarrels,
and his career and character were without blemish. At the time of his
accession to the executive chair he was fifty-six years of age, a short
man with bearded face, and with head set well down between his
shoulders. Accounts of his characteristics, drawn by his party
associates, did not differ in any essential detail. As a public
speaker, the new President was a man of unusual charm--felicitous in
his remarks, versatile, tactful. In a famous trip through the South and
West in 1891, he made speech after speech at a wide variety of places
and occasions, and created a genuine enthusiasm. His remarks were
widely read and highly regarded. Nevertheless there seems to have been
some truth in the remark of one of his contemporaries that he could
charm ten thousand men in a public speech but meet them individually
and send every one away his enemy. His manner, even to senators and
representatives of his own party, was reserved to the point of
frigidity. When he granted requests for patronage he was so ungracious
as to anger the recipients of favor. Although his personal character
and integrity were as unquestioned as those of Hayes, and although he
was a man of cultured tastes, well-informed, thoughtful and
conscientious, it must be admitted that he lacked robust leadership and
breadth of vision, and that he did not understand the real purposes of
the policies which his party associates were embarking upon, or if he
did that he tamely acquiesced in them. The party leaders were soon
engaged in initiating practices and passing legislation which would
strengthen the organization with certain groups of interested persons.
Harrison, conscientious but aloof, provided no compelling force to turn
attention toward wider and deeper needs.

Two appointments to the cabinet were important. Since Blaine was the
foremost leader of the party and had done much to bring about the
election of Harrison, it was well-nigh impossible for the latter to
fail to offer him the position of Secretary of State. The appointment
was so natural that popular opinion looked upon it as the only
possibility, yet the natures of the two men were so diverse and their
positions in the party so different that friction seemed likely to
result. Even before the administration began it was freely predicted
that Blaine would "dominate" the cabinet, a prophecy that might well
create a feeling of restraint between the two. The invitation to John
Wanamaker to become Postmaster-General was regarded as significant.
Wanamaker was a wealthy merchant of Philadelphia, who had organized an
advisory campaign committee of business men which contributed and
expended large sums of money during the canvass. Critical reformers
like the editor of _The Nation_ were not slow to connect Wanamaker's
large contribution to the campaign fund with his elevation to the
cabinet, and to suggest that the business interests were being brought
into close relations with the administration. T.C. Platt, expectant of
a return for his campaign assistance, in the form of a cabinet
position, and in fact understanding that a pledge had been made that he
would be appointed, found himself superseded by William Windom of
Minnesota in the Treasury and became a bitter opponent of the
President.[3]

It was an odd turn of the fortune of politics that brought Benjamin
Harrison face to face with the responsibility for furthering the cause
of civil service reform--the same Harrison who, as a senator, had
sneered at Cleveland for surrendering to difficulties. The party
platform had urged the continuation of reform, which had been
"auspiciously begun under the Republican administration" and had
declared that the party promises would not be broken as Democratic
pledges had been; and Harrison had announced his adherence to the party
statement. In some respects real progress was made. Secretary of the
Navy Tracy introduced reform methods in his department. The appointment
of Theodore Roosevelt to the Civil Service Commission was productive of
good results. The work of reform was defended forcefully and
successfully; its opponents were challenged to substantiate their
charges. When Senator Gorman declared that in an examination for letter
carriers in Baltimore the candidates were asked to tell the most direct
route from Baltimore to China, Roosevelt at once wrote asking him to
state the time and place of the examination himself or to send somebody
to look over the papers, copies of which were in the commission's
office. The senator did not reply.

The removal of office holders, however, proceeded with amazing
rapidity. The First Assistant Postmaster-General was J.S. Clarkson, who
had been vice-chairman of the Republican National Campaign Committee.
The speed with which he cleared the service of Democrats earned him the
title "headsman" and is indicated by the estimate that he removed one
every three minutes for the first year. When the force of clerks was
increased for the taking of the census of 1890, the superintendent of
the census office found himself "waist deep in congressmen" trying to
get places for friends. The Republican postmaster of New York who had
been continued by Cleveland was not re-appointed. It was soon
discovered, also, that the President was placing his own and his wife's
relatives in office and giving positions to large numbers of newspaper
editors, thus indirectly subsidizing the press. The Commissioner of
Pensions, Corporal James Tanner, distributed pensions so freely as to
arouse wide-spread comment and was soon relieved of his position.[4]

Curtis, addressing the National Civil Service Reform League, flayed the
President because he had despoiled the service. A Republican newspaper,
he declared, had said that the administration whistled reform down the
wind "as remorselessly as it would dismiss an objectionable tramp."
Prominent members of the party went to the President in person to urge
on him the redemption of the platform promises.

Although progress was not general, nevertheless there were particular
reforms that commended themselves. The offensive Clarkson gave way to
hostile criticism and retired. During the last half of the
administration, the civil service rules were amended so as to add a
considerable number of employees to the classified service, especially
in the post office department. Quay and Dudley found their methods
condemned by public opinion and resigned their positions on the
National Republican Committee.[5]

Aside from his choice of subordinates, Harrison contributed little to
the political history of his administration, for the leadership was
seized by a small coterie of extreme Republicans in the House of
Representatives, of whom the chief figure was the Speaker, Thomas B.
Reed. The House which had been elected with Harrison contained 159
Democrats and 166 Republicans. The Republican majority was too slight
for safety, for the questions which were coming before Congress were
such as to arouse party feeling to a high pitch. The Republicans felt
themselves commissioned, by a successful election, to put the party
program into force, but so powerful a minority could readily block any
legislation under the existing parliamentary rules. Only Reed knew what
expedient would be resorted to in the attempt to put through the party
program, and not even he could guarantee that the adventure would be
successful.

Thomas B. Reed had long represented Maine in the House of
Representatives. He was a man of huge bulk, bland in appearance,
imperturbable in his serenity, caustic, concise and witty of tongue,
rough, sharp, strong, droll. In the cut-and-thrust of parliamentary
debate and manoeuvre, as well as in his knowledge of the intricacies of
procedure, Reed was a past master. He worsted his adversaries by
turning the laugh on them, and his stinging retorts, which swept the
House "like grapeshot," made him a powerful factor in partisan
contests.[6]

The political and economic philosophy of Reed and his associates was
unusually important, because it controlled their action during the time
when they dominated the House and determined the character of the
legislation passed during Harrison's time. When President Cleveland's
tariff message welded the Democrats together to demand reduction, it
likewise influenced the Republicans to adopt the other extreme. That is
not to say, of course, that the Republican attitude was due solely to
Cleveland, for the party was already committed to protectionism.
Nevertheless, many of its prominent leaders, including its presidents,
had urged revision. That recommendation was now no longer heard. Such
men as McKinley in the House fairly apotheosized the protective system.
The philosophy of the party leaders received full exposition in a
volume edited by John D. Long, ex-governor of Massachusetts, and
composed of articles written by sixteen of the most prominent
Republicans. It had been published during the campaign. The attitude of
the party toward its chief tenet was expressed in the phrase, "The
Republican party enacted a protective tariff which made the United
States the greatest manufacturing nation on earth"; and its conception
of the Democratic party in the statement that the Democrats were mainly
old slave-holders, liquor dealers and criminals in the great northern
cities. In the field of national expenditure, also, the party reacted
from Cleveland's frugality. Senator Dolph frankly urged the expenditure
of the surplus revenue rather than the reduction of taxation. McKinley
took the position that prices might be too low. "I do not prize the word
cheap," he said; "cheap merchandise means cheap men and cheap men mean
a cheap country." Harrison remarked that it was "no time to be weighing
the claims of old soldiers with apothecary's scales." This philosophy
was now to have its trial, but first the obstructive power of the
minority must be curbed. Reed's plan for accomplishing this result
appeared late in January, 1890.

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John Crace digests A Question of Upbringing by Anthony Powell

My English teacher is wearing a barrister's wig. He turns and points towards me as I sit trembling in the dock. "Members of the jury, I put it to you that this man, Tom Robinson, is innocent," he says, rather lugubriously. I want to protest. I want to shout that no, I am not Tom Robinson, but yes, I am innocent! But the words won't come out.

Then I wake up. It's another literary dream – one that's troubled me ever since I studied Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird for GCSE.

Most of the time I'm disappointed to leave my literary dreams, waking to realise that I'm not really ensconced with with the boozing Welsh pensioners from Kingsley Amis's The Old Devils or haven't really been thrashing Harry Potter's Quidditch team. I remember with fondness a skiing trip with William Shakespeare and the delightful discovery that Don DeLillo was serving drinks behind the bar in my local pub.

It's not all sunshine, though. Tom Wolfe once ruined a trip to New York, shouting at me across Fifth Avenue: "You're not even familiar with my work – get outta town, asshole!" But that's nothing on Howard Jacobson. I spent a summer discovering his novels during my waking hours and bumping into him in my sleep. I'd see him in a local restaurant and tell him how much I was enjoying his novels. "Oh right," he'd snap, "that old chestnut, huh?" When I met him for real last year he was, in fact, charm personified. I didn't tell him about the dreams.

But enough about my subconscious, what about yours? It's Friday: forget about work and tell me all about your literary dreams. Don't hold back – it's not like we'll read anything into it.

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