When the time for balloting came the strength of the respective candidates appeared as follows:

This strength was maintained with very little variation

through thirty-four ballots. On the thirty-fifth there came a

EDMUNDS.

WINDOM.

WASHBURNE.

break in the Blaine columns occasioned by the introduction of Garfield's name which secured from the field 50 votes, leaving 257 for Blaine. Grant's vote rose to 313. On the thirty-sixth and final ballot the vote stood Garfield, 399; Grant, 306; Blaine,

42; Sherman, 3; Washburne, 5. The bitter struggle of 1880 ended by a compromise of all the opposition to Grant's candidacy on Garfield. The compromise proved acceptable to the country. By the nomination of Arthur for Vice-President the doubtful State of New York was secured to the Republicans and Garfield's election assured. Many of the disappointed

leaders and papers continued to depreciate Grant, and his column of "306," supporters was placarded with ridicule. He did not condescend to meet these flings, but at an important and critical hour in the campaign went into it with spirit, and by his presence at political meetings in New York State especially, which always served to attract great crowds and beget intense enthusiasm, he lifted the cloud of doubt from victory and at the same time placed his party and the country under a new burden of obligation for his quiet forbearance amid misrepresentation, his fresh and timely evidence of unselfishness, and firm adhesion to principles which were broader than mere men or written platforms.

From the beginning to the end General Grant comported himself with that becoming spirit which had always characterized his conduct, whether in military or civic station, or in the shades of private life. He scorned to misrepresent, and to answer detraction. He had no contention himself, was not identified personally with the move which bore his name, was actuated by no ambition, had no feelings nor resentments, entertained no anxiety about results in the convention, was willing to lend his presence and the prestige of his name to help ratify at the polls the choice of his party. We fail to see how he could better have observed all the proprieties of a delicate situation, how better have conserved the great interests at stake, or how added more to a respect already unbounded. Looked at as an episode or ordeal which fate had in store for him, and judged in the light of a moment long after feelings have had time to cool, one cannot propound a line of conduct fuller of cautious wisdom, more entirely consistent with his whole life, nor more honorable to his memory.

CHAPTER XXVI.

PERSONAL HISTORY-HOME LIFE-MEMOIRS-REMINISCENCES

ANECDOTES.

N following General Grant's history we have endeavored

IN

to illustrate the man. But there are touches that can be added which will serve to bring the picture into stronger relief, and which were impossible amid the recital of events which crowded his active military and political life.

The magnitude and importance of his deeds united with his characteristics, have given him a peculiar fame. Some even hesitate to call it fame, so destitute is it of the arts which lend brilliancy and win applause. However admirable his performances, he could never dazzle because of his remarkable reticence and utter abhorrence of the tricks of the demagogue. He was never his own herald, either on the field, in state or in private life. Furthermore, he was ever so generous in crediting others with praise, that in many instances the world has heard more of his subordinates than of himself.

The growth of his name was not meteoric. It was slow and clouded. It had no career, no friends, to start or back it. It had no one, not even himself, to defend or advance it. The ambition of others could take advantage of it with impunity. Misrepresentation and detraction could deal with it without fear of retaliation. He was early the victim of ruthless stories about his intemperance. Time alone vindicated him. His first military essay at Belmont was persistently reported as a failure. He remained silent. As a blow at armed rebellion, Donelson was so audacious and staggering, and as a victory it

was so marvellous and incomprehensible, that people were not willing to attribute it to his genius and daring, but rather to fate, to accident, to anything that justified their ignorance of military situations and gratified their credulity. He modestly handed over as a trophy an entire Confederate army, and went on silently as before.

Newspapers turned his victory of Shiloh into a defeat. He said: "Wait, time will vindicate me." When suspended at Fort Henry, and disgraced by Halleck before Corinth, he said: “My conscience approves my acts; remove me if you think I am wrong." When silenced for daring to suggest that Corinth could be captured, and that if a prompt move were not made the enemy would escape, he quietly rode over the ground after the evacuation, and proved by actual observation the correctness of his theory. All this time there were doubts and discussions of his genius and ability. Even when Vicksburg electrified the nation, it was others who had furnished the brains, others who had led his forces, others who had organized and achieved the victory. He claimed nothing for himself, but gave all the honor and the glory to his subordinate officers and his brave men. He answered no detractions, spoke no word of defence, solicited no promotion, sought no praise. Such indifference was unnatural, said the world. It was stolidity. A man without ambitions could not be a genius. Such modesty must be a species of stupidity. Plainness amid the panoply of war, silence amid the huzzas of victory, muteness in the face of personal attack, refusal to reach out and pluck the honors that hung ripened for his hand, these were so contrary to the popular notion of an epauletted genius and born strategist, to titled organizer and high-sounding commander of victorious armies, that he who possessed them as characteristics must lack all native originality and power, must be unfit for responsibility of any kind.

Vicksburg began to turn the popular scale. It threw light