the cheers deafening for
Greeley for some minutes. Mr. Demers, the preacher delegate,
lost his equilibrium, rushed up to me, shaking his fist excitedly,
and shouted: "Damn you! you have nominated him and beaten Griswold."
A recess was taken, and when the convention reconvened the ballot
demonstrated that if the organization is given time it can always
reform its shattered lines and show the efficiency of discipline.
When I met Mr. Greeley soon after, he said: "I cannot understand
why I desired the nomination for governor, nor why anybody should
want the office. There is nothing in it. No man now can name the
ten last governors of the State of New York."
Having tried that proposition many times since on the average
citizen, I have found that Mr. Greeley was absolutely right.
Any one who does not think so can try to solve that problem himself.
The meeting of the Electoral College at the Capitol at Albany
in 1864 was one of the most picturesque and interesting gatherings
ever held in the State. People came from all parts of the country
to witness the formality of the casting of the vote of New York
for Abraham Lincoln. The members of the college were, most of
them, men of great distinction in our public and civic life.
Horace Greeley was elected president of the college. The meeting
was held in the Senate chamber. When Mr. Greeley took the chair,
the desk in front of him made only his bust visible and with his
wonderfully intellectual face, his long gray hair brushed back, and
his solemn and earnest expression, he was one of the most impressive
figures I ever saw occupying the chair as a presiding officer.
One of the electors had failed to appear. Most of us knew that
under pressure of great excitement he was unable to resist his
convivial tendencies, but no one supposed that Mr. Greeley could
by any possibility know of his weakness. After waiting some
time one of the electors moved that the college take a recess for
half a day. Mr. Greeley turned very pale and, before putting
the question, made a little speech, something like this, in a voice
full of emotion, I might almost say tears: "My brethren, we are
met here upon the most solemn occasion of our lives in this crisis
of the republic. Upon the regularity of what we do here this day
may depend whether the republic lives or dies. I would, therefore,
suggest that we sit here in silence until our absent brother, who
is doubtless kept from us b
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