anour was confirmed in the
public mind by the fact, elicited on the impeachment trial, that the
money so obtained had been divided among agents of the Republican
organisation. Indeed, the _Times_ charged, without reservation, that
in one case the place of division was in none other than the house of
Cornell himself.[1667] Although the Senate of 1878 and of 1879 failed
to remove Smyth, the Senate of 1880, notwithstanding his reappointment
by Governor Cornell, refused to confirm him.[1668] In the presence of
such a sorry record the ostracised Albany Republicans were not
surprised at his attempt to cheat them at the primaries, and their
indignation at the shameless procedure resounded through the State. At
the end of a week Charles Emory Smith, the gifted editor of the Albany
_Journal_, who headed the delegation thus selected, deemed it
expedient to withdraw. Five associates did likewise. Nevertheless, the
opponents of a third term refused to participate in a second election,
called to fill the vacancies, since it did not remove the taint from
the majority who refused to resign.

[Footnote 1667: New York _Times_ (editorial), February 18, 1880.]

[Footnote 1668: "The Governor showed his contempt for public opinion by
nominating John F. Smyth, while the Senate had self-respect enough to
refrain from confirming him."--_Ibid._, May 28, 1880.]

In reward for his defence of Smyth, if not to express contempt for the
Albany malcontents, Charles Emory Smith was made chairman of the Utica
convention. This evidenced Conkling's complete control. Smith had
lived in Albany since early boyhood. He passed from its Academy to
Union College, thence back to the Academy as a teacher, and from that
position to the editorship of the _Express_. In a few years his clear,
incisive English, always forcible, often eloquent, had advanced him to
the editorship of the _Evening Journal_. Singularly attractive in
person, with slender, agile form, sparkling eyes, and ruddy cheeks,
he adorned whatever place he held. Indeed, the beauty and strength of
his character, coupled with the esteem in which Republican leaders
held him as a counsellor, gave him in the seventies a position in the
politics of the State somewhat akin to that held by Henry J. Raymond
in the sixties. He did not then, if ever, belong in Raymond's class as
a journalist or as an orator. Nor did he possess the vehement desire
for office that distinguished the brilliant editor of the _Times_