to-day, as I always did, although disagreeing with him on some points, as a man of eminent ability and honest intentions. But he could in the very nature of things not be the representative of the Cincinnati movement. His record stood in contradiction to some important points in our program, and the manner in which his nomination seemed to be brought about—although I am sure it was a surprise to him—gave the whole transaction the appearance of a bargain, such as are made and executed by the most ordinary class of politicians. It was the country's misfortune, it was ours and it was his.
You remember what conversations we had at Washington about that business. It was a fearfully hard thing for me to support the action of the Cincinnati Convention; I should not have been able to do so, had I not been convinced that our forces could not be concentrated upon any other candidate; that after all Mr. Greeley, if elected, would have given the country a far better Administration than his opponents predicted,—better even than many of his friends anticipated, and that by his success great dangers and evils would have been averted. But with all this, the movement had lost all its charm. People had expected much of it, and therefore did not appreciate what they had. We designed it to be a campaign of ideas, and it became a campaign of personalities. We wanted it to become a fight for positive principles, and it became a mere fight against an Administration. When we hoped that in spite of all these drawbacks and difficulties we still could succeed, the result has shown that we hoped too much.
You ask me what in my opinion should now be done. It is perfectly clear to my mind. We should virtually do the same thing after the reëlection of Grant, that we should have done after the election of Greeley. We should continue to struggle for the realization of the ideas
