3: The Advent of Cleveland
<< 2: Political Groping and Party Fluctuation || 4: A Constitutional Crisis >>
The Advent of Cleveland
Popular dissatisfaction with the behavior of public authority had
not up to this time extended to the formal Constitution. Schemes
of radical rearrangement of the political institutions of the
country had not yet been agitated. New party movements were
devoted to particular measures such as fresh greenback issues or
the prohibition of liquor traffic. Popular reverence for the
Constitution was deep and strong, and it was the habit of the
American people to impute practical defects not to the
governmental system itself but to the character of those acting
in it. Burke, as long ago as 1770, remarked truly that "where
there is a regular scheme of operations carried on, it is the
system and not any individual person who acts in it that is truly
dangerous." But it is an inveterate habit of public opinion to
mistake results for causes and to vent its resentment upon
persons when misgovernment occurs. That disposition was bitterly
intense at this period. "Turn the rascals out" was the ordinary
campaign slogan of an opposition party, and calumny formed the
staple of its argument. Of course no party could establish
exclusive proprietorship to such tactics, and whichever party
might be in power in a particular locality was cast for the
villain's part in the political drama. But as changes of party
control took place, experience taught that the only practical
result was to introduce new players into the same old game. Such
experience spread among the people a despairing feeling that
American politics were hopelessly depraved, and at the same time
it gave them a deep yearning for some strong deliverer. To this
messianic hope of politics may be ascribed what is in some
respects the most remarkable career in the political history of
the United States. The rapid and fortuitous rise of Grover
Cleveland to political eminence is without a parallel in the
records of American statesmanship, notwithstanding many instances
of public distinction attained from humble beginnings.
The antecedents of Cleveland were Americans of the best type. He
was descended from a colonial stock which had settled in the
Connecticut Valley. His earliest ancestor of whom there is any
exact knowledge was Aaron Cleveland, an Episcopal clergyman, who
died at East Haddam, Connecticut, in 1757, after founding a
family which in every generation furnished recruits to the
ministry. It argues a hereditary disposition for independent
judgment that among these there was a marked variation in
denominational choice. Aaron Cleveland was so strong in his
attachment to the Anglican church that to be ordained he went to
England—under the conditions of travel in those days a hard,
serious undertaking. His son, also named Aaron, became a
Congregational minister. Two of the sons of the younger Aaron
became ministers, one of them an Episcopalian like his
grandfather. Another son, William, who became a prosperous
silversmith, was for many years a deacon in the church in which
his father preached. William sent his second son, Richard, to
Yale, where he graduated with honors at the age of nineteen. He
turned to the Presbyterian church, studied theology at Princeton,
and upon receiving ordination began a ministerial career which
like that of many preachers was carried on in many pastorates. He
was settled at Caldwell, New Jersey, in his third pastorate, and
there Stephen Grover Cleveland was born, on March 18, 1837, the
fifth in a family of children that eventually increased to nine.
He was named after the Presbyterian minister who was his father's
predecessor. The first name soon dropped out of use, and from
childhood he went by his middle name, a practice of which the
Clevelands supply so many instances that it seems to be quite a
family trait.
In campaign literature, so much has been made of the humble
circumstances in which Grover made his start in life that the
unwary reader might easily imagine that the future President was
almost a waif. Nothing could be farther from the truth. He really
belonged to the most authentic aristocracy that any state of
society can produce—that which maintains its standards and
principles from generation to generation by the integrity of the
stock without any endowment of wealth. The Clevelands were people
who reared large families and sustained themselves with dignity
and credit on narrow means. It was a settled tradition with such
republican aristocrats that a son destined for a learned
profession—usually the ministry—should be sent to college, and
for that purpose heroic economies were practiced in the family.
The opportunities which wealth can confer are really trivial in
comparison with the advantage of being born and reared in such
bracing conditions as those which surrounded Grover Cleveland. As
a boy he was a clerk in a country store, but his education was
not neglected and at the age of fifteen he was studying, with a
view to entering college. His father's death ended that prospect
and forced him to go to work again to help support the family.
Some two years later, when the family circumstances were
sufficiently eased so that he could strike out for himself, he
set off westward, intending to reach Cleveland. Arriving at
Buffalo, he called upon a married aunt, who, on learning that he
was planning to get work at Cleveland with the idea of becoming a
lawyer, advised him to stay in Buffalo where opportunities were
better. Young Cleveland was taken into her home virtually as
private secretary to her husband, Lewis F. Allen, a man of means,
culture, and public spirit. Allen occupied a large house with
spacious grounds in a suburb of the city, and owned a farm on
which he bred fine cattle. He issued the "American Short-Horn
Herd Book," a standard authority for pedigree stock, and the
fifth edition, published in 1861, made a public acknowledgment of
"the kindness, industry, and ability" with which Grover Cleveland
had assisted the editor "in correcting and arranging the
pedigrees for publication."
With his uncle's friendship to back him, Cleveland had, of
course, no difficulty in getting into a reputable law office as a
student, and thereafter his affairs moved steadily along the road
by which innumerable young Americans of diligence and industry
have advanced to success in the legal profession. Cleveland's
career as a lawyer was marked by those steady, solid gains in
reputation which result from care and thoroughness rather than
from brilliancy, and in these respects it finds many parallels
among lawyers of the trustee type. What is exceptional and
peculiar in Cleveland's career is the way in which political
situations formed about him without any contrivance on his part,
and as it were projected him from office to office until he
arrived in the White House.
At the outset nothing could have seemed more unlikely than such a
career. Cleveland's ambitions were bound up in his profession and
his politics were opposed to those of the powers holding local
control. But the one circumstance did not shut him out of
political vocation and the other became a positive advantage. He
entered public life in 1863 through an unsought appointment as
assistant district attorney for Erie County. The incumbent of the
office was in poor health and needed an assistant on whom he
could rely to do the work. Hence Cleveland was called into
service. His actual occupancy of the position prompted his party
to nominate him to the office; and although he was defeated, he
received a vote so much above the normal voting strength of his
party that, in 1869, he was picked for the nomination to the
office of sheriff to strengthen a party ticket made up in the
interest of a congressional candidate. The expectation was that
while the district might be carried for the Democratic candidate
for Congress, Cleveland would probably fail of election. The
nomination was virtually forced upon him against his wishes. But
he was elected by a small plurality. This success, reenforced by
his able conduct of the office, singled him out as the party's
hope for success in the Buffalo municipal election; and after his
term as sheriff he was nominated for mayor, again without any
effort on his part. Although ordinarily the Democratic party was
in a hopeless minority, Cleveland was elected. It was in this
campaign that he enunciated the principle that public office is a
public trust, which was his rule of action throughout his career.
Both as sheriff and as mayor he acted upon it with a vigor that
brought him into collision with predatory politicians, and the
energy and address with which he defended public interests made
him widely known as the reform mayor of Buffalo. His record and
reputation naturally attracted the attention of the state
managers of the Democratic party, who were casting about for a
candidate strong enough to overthrow the established Republican
control, and Cleveland was just as distinctly drafted for the
nomination to the governorship in 1882 as he had been for his
previous offices.
In his career as governor Cleveland displayed the same stanch
characteristics as before, and he was fearless and aggressive in
maintaining his principles. The most striking characteristic of
his veto messages is the utter absence of partisan or personal
designs. Some of the bills he vetoed purported to benefit labor
interests, and politicians are usually fearful of any appearance
of opposition to such interests: His veto of the bill
establishing a five cent fare for the New York elevated railways
was an action of a kind to make him a target for calumny and
misrepresentation. Examination of the record reveals no instance
in which Cleveland flinched from doing his duty or faltered in
the full performance of it. He acted throughout in his avowed
capacity of a public trustee, and he conducted the office of
governor with the same laborious fidelity which he had displayed
as sheriff and as mayor. And now, as before, he antagonized
elements of his own party who sought only the opportunities of
office and cared little for its responsibilities. He did not
unite suavity of manner with vigor of action, and at times he
allowed himself to reflect upon the motives of opponents and to
use language that was personally offensive. He told the
Legislature in one veto message that "of all the defective and
shabby legislation which has been presented to me, this is the
worst and most inexcusable." He once sent a scolding message to
the State Senate, in which he said that "the money of the State
is apparently expended with no regard to economy," and that
"barefaced jobbery has been permitted." The Senate having refused
to confirm a certain appointee, he declared that the opposition
had "its rise in an overwhelming greed for the patronage which
may attach to the place," and that the practical effect of such
opposition was to perpetuate "the practice of unblushing
peculation." What he said was quite true and it was the kind of
truth that hurt. The brusqueness of his official style and the
censoriousness of his language infused even more personal
bitterness into the opposition which developed within his own
party than in that felt in the ranks of the opposing party. At
the same time, these traits delighted a growing body of reformers
hostile to both the regular parties. These "Mugwumps," as they
were called, were as a class so addicted to personal invective
that it was said of them with as much truth as wit that they
brought malice into politics without even the excuse of
partisanship. But it was probably the enthusiastic support of
this class which turned the scale in New York in the presidential
election of 1884.
In the national conventions of that year, there was an unusually
small amount of factional strife. In the Republican convention,
President Arthur was a candidate, but party sentiment was so
strong for Blaine that he led Arthur on the first ballot and was
nominated on the fourth by a large majority. In the Democratic
convention, Cleveland was nominated on the second ballot.
Meanwhile, his opponents had organized a new party from which
more was expected than it actually accomplished. It assumed the
title Anti-Monopoly and chose the notorious demagogue, General
Benjamin F. Butler, as its candidate for President.
During this campaign, the satirical cartoon attained a power and
an effectiveness difficult to realize now that it has become an
ordinary feature of journalism, equally available for any school
of opinion. But it so happened that the rise of Cleveland in
politics coincided with the artistic career of Joseph Keppler,
who came to this country from Vienna and who for some years
supported himself chiefly as an actor in Western theatrical
companies. He had studied drawing in Vienna and had contributed
cartoons to periodicals in that city. After some unsuccessful
ventures in illustrated journalism, he started a pictorial weekly
in New York in 1875. It was originally printed in German, but in
less than a year it was issued also in English. It was not until
1879 that it sprang into general notice through Keppler's success
in reproducing lithographed designs in color. Meanwhile, the
artist was feeling his way from the old style caricature, crowded
with figures with overhead loops of explanatory text, to designs
possessing an artistic unity expressive of an idea plain enough
to tell its own story. He had matured both his mechanical
resources and his artistic method by the time the campaign of
1884 came on, and he had founded a school which could apply the
style to American politics with aptness superior to his own. It
was Bernhard Gillam, who, working in the new Keppler style,
produced a series of cartoons whose tremendous impressiveness was
universally recognized. Blaine was depicted as the tattooed man
and was exhibited in that character in all sorts of telling
situations. While on the stump during the campaign, Blaine had
sometimes literally to wade through campaign documents assailing
his personal integrity, and phrases culled from them were chanted
in public processions. One of the features of a great parade of
business men of New York was a periodical chorus of "Burn this
letter," suiting the action to the word and thus making a
striking pyrotechnic display.(1) But the cartoons reached people
who would never have been touched by campaign documents or by
campaign processions.
Notwithstanding the exceptional violence and novel ingenuity of
the attacks made upon him, Blaine met them with such ability and
address that everywhere he augmented the ordinary strength of his
party, and his eventual defeat was generally attributed to an
untoward event among his own adherents at the close of the
campaign. At a political reception in the interest of Blaine
among New York clergymen, the Reverend Dr. Burchard spoke of the
Democratic party as "the party of rum, Romanism, and rebellion."
Unfortunately Blaine did not hear him distinctly enough to
repudiate this slur upon the religious belief of millions of
American citizens, and alienation of sentiment caused by the
tactless and intolerant remark could easily account for Blaine's
defeat by a small margin. He was only 1149 votes behind Cleveland
in New York in a poll of over 1,125,000 votes, and only 23,005
votes behind in a national poll of over 9,700,000 votes for the
leading candidates. Of course Cleveland in his turn was a target
of calumny, and in his case the end of the campaign did not bring
the customary relief. He was pursued to the end of his public
career by active, ingenious, resourceful, personal spite and
steady malignity of political opposition from interests whose
enmity he had incurred while Governor of New York.
The situation which confronted Cleveland when he became President
was so complicated and embarrassing that perhaps even the most
sagacious and resourceful statesman could not have coped with it
successfully, though it is the characteristic of genius to
accomplish the impossible. But Cleveland was no genius; he was
not even a man of marked talent. He was stanch, plodding,
laborious, and dutiful; but he was lacking in ability to
penetrate to the heart of obscure political problems and to deal
with primary causes rather than with effects. The great successes
of his administration were gained in particular problems whose
significance had already been clearly defined. In this field,
Cleveland's resolute and energetic performance of duty had
splendid results.
At the time of Cleveland's inauguration as President, the Senate
claimed an extent of authority which, if allowed to go
unchallenged, would have turned the Presidency into an office
much like that of the doge of Venice, one of ceremonial dignity
without real power. The Federalist—that matchless collection
of constitutional essays written by Hamilton, Madison, and
Jay—laid down the doctrine that "against the enterprising
ambition" of the legislative department "the people ought to
indulge all their jealousy and exhaust all their precautions."
But some of the precautions taken in framing the Constitution
proved ineffectual from the start. The right conferred upon the
President to recommend to the consideration of Congress "such
measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient," was emptied
of practical importance by the success of Congress in
interpreting it as meaning no more than that the President may
request Congress to take a subject into consideration. In
practice, Congress considers only such measures as are
recommended by its own committees. The framers of the
Constitution took special pains to fortify the President's
position by the veto power, which is treated at length in the
Constitution. By a special clause, the veto power was extended to
"every order, resolution or vote... except on a question of
adjournment"—a clause which apparently should enable the
President to strike off the "riders" continually put upon
appropriation bills to coerce executive action; but no President
has ventured to exercise this authority. Although the Senate was
joined to the President as an advisory council in appointments to
office, it was explained in "The Federalist" that "there will be
no exertion of choice on the part of Senators." Nevertheless, the
Senate has claimed and exercised the right to dictate
appointments. While thus successfully encroaching upon the
authority of the President, the Senate had also been signally
successful in encroaching upon the authority of the House. The
framers of the Constitution anticipated for the House a masterful
career like that of the House of Commons, and they feared that
the Senate could not protect itself in the discharge of its own
functions; so, although the traditional principle that all
revenue bills should originate in the House was taken over into
the Constitution, it was modified by the proviso that "the Senate
may propose or concur with amendments as on other bills." This
right to propose amendments has been improved by the Senate until
the prerogative of the House has been reduced to an empty form.
Any money bill may be made over by amendment in the Senate, and
when contests have followed, the Senate has been so successful in
imposing its will upon the House that the House has acquired the
habit of submission. Not long before the election of Cleveland,
as has been pointed out, this habitual deference of the House had
enabled the Senate to originate a voluminous tariff act in the
form of an amendment to the Internal Revenue Bill voted by the
House.
In addition to these extensions of power through superior address
in management, the ascendancy of the Senate was fortified by
positive law. In 1867, when President Johnson fell out with the
Republican leaders in Congress, a Tenure of Office Act was passed
over his veto, which took away from the President the power of
making removals except by permission of the Senate. In 1869, when
Johnson's term had expired, a bill for the unconditional repeal
of this law passed the House with only sixteen votes in the
negative, but the Senate was able to force a compromise act which
perpetuated its authority over removals.
(2)
resident Grant
complained of this act as "being inconsistent with a faithful and
efficient administration of the government," but with all his
great fame and popularity he was unable to induce the Senate to
relinquish the power it had gained.
The Act of April 5, 1869, required the President, within thirty
days after the opening of the sessions, to nominate persons for
all vacant offices, whether temporarily filled or not, and in
place of all officers who may have been suspended during the
recess of the Senate.
This law was now invoked by Republicans as a means of
counteracting the result of the election. Such was the feeling of
the times that partisanship could easily masquerade as
patriotism. Republicans still believed that as saviors of the
Union they had a prescriptive right to the government. During the
campaign, Eugene Field, the famous Western poet, had given a
typical expression of this sentiment in some scornful verses
concluding with this defiant notice:
These quondam rebels come today
In penitential form,
And hypocritically say
The country needs "Reform!"
Out on reformers such as these;
By Freedom's sacred powers,
We'll run the country as we please;
We saved it, and it's ours.
Although the Democratic party had won the Presidency and the
House, the Republicans still retained control of the Senate, and
they were expected as a matter of course to use their powers for
party advantage. Some memorable struggles, rich in constitutional
precedents, issued from these conditions.
__________
(1) The allusion was to the Mulligan letters, which had been made
public by Mr. Blaine himself when it had been charged that they
contained evidence of corrupt business dealings. The disclosure
bad been made four years before and ample opportunity had existed
for instituting proceedings if the case warranted it, but nothing
was done except to nurse the scandal for campaign use.
(2) The allusion was to the Mulligan letters, which had been made
public by Mr. Blaine himself when it had been charged that they
contained evidence of corrupt business dealings. The disclosure
bad been made four years before and ample opportunity had existed
for instituting proceedings if the case warranted it, but nothing
was done except to nurse the scandal for campaign use.
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