n time to save
him from the contempt and humiliation to which he had subjected
himself. There was much force in this reasoning, and as the date of
the national convention approached the mystery deepened.
Tilden was not a paralytic, as Haskin proclaimed. He could not even be
called an invalid. His attention to vexatious litigation evidenced
unimpaired mental power, and his open life at Greystone proved that
his physical condition did not hide him from men. He undoubtedly
required regular rest and sleep. His nervous system did not resist
excitement as readily as in the days of his battle with Tweed and the
Canal ring. It is possible, too, that early symptoms of a confirmed
disease had then appeared, and that prudence dictated hygienic
precautions. Once, in December, 1879, when contemplating the strain of
the campaign of 1876, he questioned his ability to go through another.
Again, in the early spring of 1880, after prolonged intellectual
effort, he remarked in rather a querulous tone, "If I am no longer fit
to prepare a case for trial, I am not fit to be President of the
United States." Such casual remarks, usually made to a confidential
friend, seemed to limit his references to his health.[1718] He
doubtless felt disinclined, as have many stronger men, to meet the
strain that comes when in pursuit of high public office, but there is
no evidence that ill-health, if it really entered into his
calculations, was the determining factor of his action. Conditions in
the Republican party had changed in the Empire State since the
nomination of Garfield. Besides, the cipher disclosures had lost him
the independent vote which he received in 1876. This left only the
regulation party strength, minus the Kelly vote. In 1876 Tilden's
majority was 26,568, and in 1879 Kelly polled 77,566. If Kelly's bolt
in 1880, therefore, should carry one-half or only one-quarter of the
votes it did in 1879, Tilden must necessarily lose New York which
meant the loss of the election. These were conditions, not theories,
that confronted this hard-headed man of affairs, who, without
sentiment, never failed to understand the inexorable logic of facts.
Nevertheless, Tilden wanted the endorsement of a renomination. This
would open the way for a graceful retreat. Yet, to shield him from
possible defeat, he secretly gave Manning a letter, apparently
declining to run again, which could be used if needed.
[Footnote 1718: John Bigelow, _Life of Tilden_, Vol.
|