disappointed a section of his party. He had not altogether satisfied the expectations of the independent voters. But he had made no serious mistakes, and he had given to his followers a positive and definite policy to take the place of a purely negative, critical attitude which for twenty years had brought them nothing but disaster. Both as a man and as a statesman his fame had grown. Few doubted his sincerity of purpose, his integrity of character, or his indomitable courage.

In November, 1886, Harvard University celebrated the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of its foundation. President Cleveland accepted an invitation to attend the ceremonies as a guest of the University and of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Accompanied by the Governor and escorted by a body of lancers, he proceeded to Cambridge, where he was received at the Sanders Theatre by President Eliot.28 No such gathering had hitherto been seen upon this Continent, representing, as it did, all that was most distinguished in American art and literature, in statesmanship, in science, and in learning. In the presence of this brilliant assemblage, James Russell Lowell, the greatest of American men of letters then living, delivered an address which for its tone of rare distinction still remains a masterpiece, starred with felicitous allusions and pregnant with suggestive thought. Toward the close he spoke a few graceful words of welcome to the guests of the University, and then, at the last, turning to the most illustrious guest of all, he said:

"There is also one other name indecorous not to make exception.

of which it would be You all know that I

can mean only the President of our Republic. His presence is a signal honour to us all, and to us all I may say a personal gratification. We have no politics here; but

28 November 8th.

the sons of Harvard all belong to the party which admires courage, strength of purpose, and fidelity to duty, and which respects, wherever he may be found, the

He has left the helm of State to be with us here; and so long as it is entrusted to his hands we are sure that, should the storm come, he will say with Seneca's pilot, 'O Neptune, you may sink me if you will, you may save me if you will, but whatever happen I shall keep my rudder true!'" 29

29 Winsor, Record of the Celebration of the 250th Anniversary of the Founding of Harvard College (Boston, 1887).

CHAPTER III

MEMORIES OF THE PAST

How rapidly old issues and old causes were fading into political obscurity was impressed upon the mind of the American people by the passing away, early in President Cleveland's administration, of many men whose names evoked innumerable memories, but whose careers already had receded into history. In 1885, died George B. McClellan and Ulysses S. Grant; in 1886, Chester Alan Arthur, Winfield S. Hancock, Horatio Seymour, and Samuel J. Tilden. Of these distinguished men, twoGeneral Grant and Mr. Arthur-had been Presidents of the United States. Three-General McClellan, General Hancock, and Mr. Seymour-had been unsuccessful candidates for the Presidency. One-Mr. Tilden-will probably remain unique in American history as having been prevented by political intrigue from taking possession of the chief magistracy to which his countrymen had called him.

The names of General McClellan and General Grant are linked indissolubly with the annals of the Civil War. The history of the one not only supplements the history of the other, but affords a striking contrast. It was McClellan's fortune to begin the task which Grant completed. McClellan rests to-day beneath the shadow of imputed failure; Grant wears in history the laurels of supreme success. The final judgment of posterity is a judgment from which appeal is hopeless; yet in this one thing it is seldom. wholly just. It takes no heed of circumstances or condi

tions. It makes no reservations. It exacts unqualified ac ceptance. It stands, with a stolidity that is almost brutal, upon the bed-rock foundation of bare results.

In 1861, McClellan, then an ex-captain of Engineers, came to Washington to assume command of the nation's military forces in succession to the infirm and aged Scott. A few successful skirmishes in West Virginia, which popular inexperience magnified into mighty battles, had won for him this swift promotion. He found the capital in a state of chaos. The rout at Bull Run had demoralised alike the army and the Government. Raw levies from the North were encamped about the city, ignorant of the very rudiments of military training, and officered by no less. ignorant civilians-tradesmen, lawyers, and politicians. As an army, it was preposterous; as the raw material of an army, there was no better in the world. But to convert this mob-like mass into a great fighting machine, to give it discipline, coherence, confidence, endurance and enthusiasm, was a problem to appall the genius of a Carnot. Yet this McClellan did, and he did it most superbly. The impatient North, smarting under defeat and fatuously expecting from a single campaign the conquest of an entire people of English stock, fretted at each moment of delay. President Lincoln and the bullying lawyer whom he had made his Secretary of War were little less unreasonable. McClellan had the infinite misfortune to take command when the nation was still childish in its hero-worship and as yet unsobered by the stern realities of war. Men called the new commanding general "the young Napoleon"; but not Napoleon himself could have satisfied the expectations of the Northern editors and war-mad orators. Moreover, McClellan was charged with nursing political ambitions, because of the foolish speeches of some of his party

friends. He became an object of suspicion to members of the Cabinet-first to Stanton, then to Chase-and a network of petty intrigue was woven around him to hamper and exasperate him. The President believed in him, yet never gave him a free hand in anything. A morbid fear lest the Confederates should make a sudden dash on Washington came over Lincoln from time to time, and still more strongly over Stanton, and paralysed the operations in the field. The command was divided between Halleck and McClellan; and divided command naturally brought divided counsels. The army fought and fought heroically, for it loved McClellan. No other general in that war ever so completely won the devotion of his soldiers. An intelligent private, who afterward published his recollections, wrote: "Soldiers' eyes would brighten when they talked of him. Their hard, lean, browned faces would soften and light up with affection when they spoke of him." 2 Defeat or victory, it was all the same. He never lost his hold upon the men who followed him.

That McClellan was an able soldier and that his campaigns were ably planned, is an assertion which rests upon the highest military authority. General Lee, five years after the war, when asked whom he regarded as the greatest of the Northern generals, answered emphatically, "McClellan, by all odds." 3 Von Moltke in 1874, said that McClellan was the one scientific general on the Northern side, and that Grant's final campaign was worked out successfully on the strategic lines which McClellan had laid 1" My friends have injured me a thousand times more than my enemies," McClellan is said to have remarked to a brother-officer.-Richardson. 2 Wilkeson, Recollections of a Private Soldier, p. 192 (New York, 1887). Wilkeson afterwards held a lieutenant's commission in the army. 3 Lee, Recollections and Letters of General Lee, p. 166 (New York,