On our way back from the village we stopped at the birthplace of Samuel Tilden,—­an old-fashioned white frame house, situated in the very fork of the roads, and surrounded by tall trees.  Not far away is the cemetery, where a stone sarcophagus contains the remains of a man who was very able if not very great.

Probably not fifty people in the United States, aside from those living in the neighborhood, know where Tilden was born.  We did not until we came abruptly upon the house and were told; probably not a dozen could tell exactly where he is buried.  Such is fame.  And yet this man, in the belief of most of his countrymen, was chosen president, though never seated; he was governor of New York and a vital force in the politics and public life of his times,—­now forgotten.

What a disappointment it must have been to come so near and yet miss the presidency.  Before 1880 came around, his own party had so far forgotten him that he was scarcely mentioned for renomination,—­though Tilden decrepit was incomparably stronger than Hancock “the superb.”  It was hard work enthusing over “Hancock and Hooray” after “Tilden and Reform;” the latter cry had substance, the former was just fustian.

The Democratic party is as iconoclastic as the Republican is reverential.  The former loves to pick flaws in its idols and dash them to pieces; the latter, with stolid conservatism, clings loyally to its mediocrities.  The latter could have elected Bryan, the former could not; the Democratic stomach is freaky and very squeamish; it swallows many things but digests few; the ostrich-like Republican organ has never been known to reject anything.

Republicans swear stanchly** by every president they have ever elected.  Democrats abandoned Tilden and spurned Cleveland, the only two men they have come within a thousand miles of electing in ten campaigns.  The lesson of well-nigh half a century makes no impression, the blind are leading the blind.

It is a far cry from former leaders such as Tilden, Hewitt, Bayard, and Cleveland to those of to-day; a party which seeks its candidate among the populists of Nebraska courts defeat.  The two nominations of Bryan mark low level in the political tide; it is not conceivable that a great political party could sink lower; for less of a statesman and more of a demagogue does not exist.  The one great opportunity the little man had to show some ability as a leader was when the treaty of Paris was being fiercely debated at Washington; the sentiment of his party and the best men of the country were against the purchase of the Philippines; but this cross-roads politician, who could not see beyond the tip of his nose, hastened to Washington, played into the hands of the jingoes by persuading the wiser men of his own party—­men who should not have listened to him—­to withdraw their opposition.

Bryan had two opportunities to exhibit qualities of statesmanship in the beginning of the war with Spain, and in the discussion of the treaty of Paris; he missed both.  So far as the war was concerned, he never had an idea beyond a little cheap renown as a paper colonel of volunteers; so far as the treaty was concerned, he made the unpardonable blunder of playing into the hands of his opponents, and leaving the sound and conservative sentiment of the country without adequate leadership in Washington.