In 1876, at Cincinnati, Blaine was nominated by Robert G. Ingersoll in one of the most eloquent addresses ever delivered on the floor of a national convention, and on the first ballot fell only a few votes short of a majority.  But his enemies were at work, and on the seventh ballot, succeeded in stampeding the convention to Rutherford B. Hayes.  Hayes, however, was pledged to a single term, and Blaine was hailed as the nominee in 1880; but when the convention assembled, there was Conkling with a solid phalanx of over three hundred delegates for Grant.  The result was that neither Blaine nor Grant could get a majority of the votes, and the nomination fell to Garfield.  Finally, by tireless work, Blaine laid his plans so well that he secured the nomination four years later, only to have New York State thrown against him by Conkling and to go down to defeat.  Conkling had his revenge, and Blaine’s career was practically at an end, for he was an old and broken man.

Let us add frankly that there were many within his own party who mistrusted him—­who believed him insincere, if not actually dishonest, and refused to support him.  For a fourth time, in 1892, he attempted to get the nomination, but his name had lost its wizardry, and he was defeated by Benjamin Harrison.  There are few more pitiful stories in American politics than that of this brilliant and able man, consumed by the desire for a great prize which seemed always within his grasp and yet which always eluded him.  For a quarter of a century, he chased this will-o’-the-wisp, only to be led by it into a bog and left to perish there.

There are a few names on the later pages of American statesmanship which stand for notable achievement, more especially in the line of diplomacy, the two greatest of which are those of John Hay and Elihu Root.  Both of these men, as secretary of state, did memorable work; not the sort of work which appeals to popular imagination, for there was nothing spectacular about it; but quiet and effective work in the forming of informal alliances and treaties with foreign nations, maintaining America’s position as a world power, and making her the friend of all the world.  That is the position she should occupy, since she has no quarrel with any one; and it is with its maintenance that the statesmanship of the present day is principally concerned.

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So we close this chapter on American Statesmen.  It is a tragic chapter—­tragic because of thwarted ambitions, and unfulfilled desires.  Of them all, Benjamin Franklin was the only one whose life was from first to last happy and contented, who realized his ideals and who died in peace; and this, I think, because he asked nothing for himself, hungered for no preferment, was consumed by no ambition, sacrificed nothing to expediency, but accepted life with large philosophy and never-failing humor, realizing that in serving others he was best serving himself, and whose inward peace was manifest in his placid and smiling countenance.  Upon the rocks of ambition the greatest of those who followed him dashed themselves to pieces.