LINCOLN

An Account of His Personal Life, Especially of Its Springs of Action asRevealed and Deepened by the Ordeal of War

By Nathaniel Wright Stephenson

Authority for all important statements of facts in the following pagesmay be found in the notes; the condensed references are expanded in thebibliography. A few controversial matters are discussed in the notes. 

I am very grateful to Mr. William Roscoe Thayer for enabling me to usethe manuscript diary of John Hay. Miss Helen Nicolay has graciouslyconfirmed some of the implications of the official biography. Lincoln'sonly surviving secretary, Colonel W. O. Stoddard, has given considerateaid. The curious incident of Lincoln as counsel in an action to recoverslaves was mentioned to me by Professor Henry Johnson, through whosegood offices it was confirmed and amplified by Judge John H. Marshall. Mr. Henry W. Raymond has been very tolerant of a stranger's inquirieswith regard to his distinguished father. A futile attempt to discoverdocumentary remains of the Republican National Committee of 1864 hasmade it possible, through the courtesy of Mr. Clarence B. Miller, atleast to assert that there is nothing of importance in possession ofthe present Committee. A search for new light on Chandler drew forthgenerous assistance from Professor Ulrich B. Phillips, Mr. Floyd B. Streeter and Mr. G. B. Krum. The latter caused to be examined, forthis particular purpose, the Blair manuscripts in the Burton HistoricalCollection. Much illumination arose out of a systematic resurvey of theCongressional Globe, for the war period, in which I had thestimulating companionship of Professor John L. Hill, reinforced by manyconversations with Professor Dixon Ryan Fox and Professor David SavilleMuzzey. At the heart of the matter is the resolute criticism of Mrs. Stephenson and of a long enduring friend, President Harrison Randolph. The temper of the historical fraternity is such that any worker inany field is always under a host of incidental obligations. There isespecial propriety in my acknowledging the kindness of Professor AlbertBushnell Hart, Professor James A. Woodburn, Professor Herman V. Ames, Professor St. George L. Sioussat and Professor Allen Johnson. 

CONTENTS

 FOUNDATIONS I THE CHILD OF THE FOREST II THE MYSTERIOUS YOUTH III A VILLAGE LEADER IV REVELATIONS V PROSPERITY VI UNSATISFYING RECOGNITION

 PROMISES VII THE SECOND START VIII A RETURN TO POLITICS IX THE LITERARY STATESMAN X THE DARK HORSE XI SECESSION XII THE CRISIS XIII ECLIPSE

 CONFUSIONS XIV THE STRANGE NEW MAN XV PRESIDENT AND PREMIER XVI "ON TO RICHMOND!" XVII DEFINING THE ISSUE XVIII THE JACOBIN CLUB XIX THE JACOBINS BECOME INQUISITORS XX IS CONGRESS THE PRESIDENT'S MASTER? XXI THE STRUGGLE TO CONTROL THE ARMY XXII LINCOLN EMERGES

 AUDACITIES XXIII THE MYSTICAL STATESMAN XXIV GAMBLING IN GENERALS XXV A WAR BEHIND THE SCENES XXVI THE DICTATOR, THE MARPLOT, AND THE LITTLE MEN XXVII THE TRIBUNE OF THE PEOPLE XXVIII APPARENT ASCENDENCY XXIX CATASTROPHE XXX THE PRESIDENT VERSUS THE VINDICTIVES

 VICTORY XXXI A MENACING PAUSE XXXII THE AUGUST CONSPIRACY XXXIII THE RALLY TO THE PRESIDENT XXXIV "FATHER ABRAHAM" XXXV THE MASTER OF THE MOMENT XXXVI PREPARING A DIFFERENT WAR XXXVII FATE INTERPOSES

 BIBLIOGRAPHY

 NOTES

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

The author and publisher make grateful acknowledgement to Ginn andCompany, Boston, for the photograph of St. Gaudens' Statue; to TheCentury Company of New York for the Earliest Portrait of Lincoln, whichis from an engraving by Johnson after a daguerreotype in the possessionof the Honorable Robert T. Lincoln; and for Lincoln and Tad, which isfrom the famous photograph by Brady; to The Macmillan Company of NewYork for the portrait of Mrs. Lincoln and also for The Review of theArmy of the Potomac, both of which were originally reproduced in Ida M. Tarbell's Life of Abraham Lincoln. For the rare and interesting portraitentitled The Last Phase of Lincoln acknowledgment is made to RobertBruce, Esquire, Clinton, Oneida County, New York. This photograph wastaken by Alexander Gardner, April 9, 1865, the glass plate of which isnow in Mr. Bruce's collection. 

I. THE CHILD OF THE FOREST

Of first importance in the making of the American people is that greatforest which once extended its mysterious labyrinth from tide-water tothe prairies when the earliest colonists entered warily its sea-wornedges a portion of the European race came again under a spell it hadforgotten centuries before, the spell of that untamed naturewhich created primitive man. All the dim memories that lay deep insubconsciousness; all the vague shadows hovering at the back of thecivilized mind; the sense of encompassing natural power, the need tostruggle single-handed against it; the danger lurking in the darknessof the forest; the brilliant treachery of the forest sunshine glintedthrough leafy secrecies; the Strange voices in its illimitable murmur;the ghostly shimmer of its glades at night; the lovely beauty of thegreat gold moon; all the thousand wondering dreams that evolved theelder gods, Pan, Cybele, Thor; all this waked again in the soul of theAnglo-Saxon penetrating the great forest. And it was intensified by theway he came, --singly, or with but wife and child, or at best in verysmall company, a mere handful. And the surrounding presences were notonly of the spiritual world. Human enemies who were soon as well armedas he, quicker of foot and eye, more perfectly noiseless in their treadeven than the wild beasts of the shadowy coverts, the ruthless Indianswhom he came to expel, these invisible presences were watching him, ina fierce silence he knew not whence. Like as not the first signs of thatmenace which was everywhere would be the hiss of the Indian arrow, orthe crack of the Indian rifle, and sharp and sudden death. 

Under these conditions he learned much and forgot much. His deadly needmade him both more and less individual than he had been, releasedhim from the dictation of his fellows in daily life while it enforcedrelentlessly a uniform method of self-preservation. Though the unseenworld became more and more real, the understanding of it faded. Itbecame chiefly a matter of emotional perception, scarcely at all amatter of philosophy. The morals of the forest Americans were those ofaudacious, visionary beings loosely hound together by a comradeshipin peril. Courage, cautiousness, swiftness, endurance, faithfulness, secrecy, --these were the forest virtues. Dreaming, companionship, humor, --these were the forest luxuries. 

From the first, all sorts and conditions were ensnared by that silentland, where the trails they followed, their rifles in their hands, hadbeen trodden hard generation after generation by the feet of the Indianwarriors. The best and the worst of England went into that illimitableresolvent, lost themselves, found themselves, and issued from itsshadows, or their children did, changed both for good and ill, Americans. Meanwhile the great forest, during two hundred years, wasslowly vanishing. This parent of a new people gave its life to itsoffspring and passed away. In the early nineteenth century it hadwithered backward far from the coast; had lost its identity all alongthe north end of the eastern mountains; had frayed out toward the sunsetinto lingering tentacles, into broken minor forests, into shreds andpatches. 

Curiously, by a queer sort of natural selection, its people hadcongregated into life communities not all of one pattern. There wereplaces as early as the beginning of the century where distinctionhad appeared. At other places life was as rude and rough as could beimagined. There were innumerable farms that were still mere "clearings, "walled by the forest. But there were other regions where for many a milethe timber had been hewn away, had given place to a ragged continuityof farmland. In such regions especially if the poorer elements ofthe forest, spiritually speaking, had drifted thither--the stragglingvillages which had appeared were but groups of log cabins huddled alonga few neglected lanes. In central Kentucky, a poor new village wasElizabethtown, unkempt, chokingly dusty in the dry weather, with muddystreams instead of streets during the rains, a stench of pig-sties atthe back of its cabins, but everywhere looking outward glimpses of alovely meadow land. 

At Elizabethtown in 1806 lived Joseph Hanks, a carpenter, also his nieceNancy Hanks. Poor people they were, of the sort that had been suckedinto the forest in their weakness, or had been pushed into it by asocial pressure they could not resist; not the sort that had grimlyadventured its perils or gaily courted its lure. Their source wasVirginia. They were of a thriftless, unstable class; that vagrantpeasantry which had drifted westward to avoid competition with slavelabor. The niece, Nancy, has been reputed illegitimate. And thoughtradition derives her from the predatory amour of an aristocrat, thereis nothing to sustain the tale except her own appearance. She had abearing, a cast of feature, a tone, that seemed to hint at higher socialorigins than those of her Hanks relatives. She had a little schooling;was of a pious and emotional turn of mind; enjoyed those amazing"revivals" which now and then gave an outlet to the pent-up religiosityof the village; and she was almost handsome. (1)

History has preserved no clue why this girl who was rather the best ofher sort chose to marry an illiterate apprentice of her uncle's, ThomasLincoln, whose name in the forest was spelled "Linkhorn. " He was ashiftless fellow, never succeeding at anything, who could neither readnor write. At the time of his birth, twenty-eight years before, hisparents--drifting, roaming people, struggling with poverty--weredwellers in the Virginia mountains. As a mere lad, he had shot anIndian--one of the few positive acts attributed to him--and his fatherhad been killed by Indians. There was a "vague tradition" that hisgrandfather had been a Pennsylvania Quaker who had wandered southwardthrough the forest mountains. The tradition angered him. Though heappears to have had little enough--at least in later years--of thefierce independence of the forest, he resented a Quaker ancestry as aninsult. He had no suspicion that in after years the zeal of genealogistswould track his descent until they had linked him with a lost member ofa distinguished Puritan family, a certain Mordecai Lincoln who removedto New Jersey, whose descendants became wanderers of the forest and sankspeedily to the bottom of the social scale, retaining not the slightestmemory of their New England origin. (2) Even in the worst of theforest villages, few couples started married life in less auspiciouscircumstances than did Nancy and Thomas. Their home in one of the alleysof Elizabethtown was a shanty fourteen feet square. (3) Very soon aftermarriage, shiftless Thomas gave up carpentering and took to farming. Land could be had almost anywhere for almost nothing those days, andThomas got a farm on credit near where now stands Hodgenville. Today, itis a famous place, for there, February 12, 1809, Abraham Lincoln, secondchild, but first son of Nancy and Thomas, was born. (4)

During most of eight years, Abraham lived in Kentucky. His father, always adrift in heart, tried two farms before abandoning Kentuckyaltogether. A shadowy figure, this Thomas; the few memories of himsuggest a superstitious nature in a superstitious community. He usedto see visions in the forest. Once, it is said, he came home, allexcitement, to tell his wife he had seen a giant riding on a lion, tearing up trees by the roots; and thereupon, he took to his bed andkept it for several days. 

His son Abraham told this story of the giant on the lion to a playmateof his, and the two boys gravely discussed the existence of ghosts. Abraham thought his father "didn't exactly believe in them, " and seemsto have been in about the same state of mind himself. He was quite surehe was "not much" afraid of the dark. This was due chiefly to the simplewisdom of a good woman, a neighbor, who had taught him to think of thenight as a great room that God had darkened even as his friend darkeneda room in her house by hanging something over the window. (5)

The eight years of his childhood in Kentucky had few incidents. A hard, patient, uncomplaining life both for old and young. The men found theirone deep joy in the hunt. In lesser degree, they enjoyed the revivalswhich gave to the women their one escape out of themselves. A strange, almost terrible recovery of the primitive, were those religious furiesof the days before the great forest had disappeared. What other figuresin our history are quite so remarkable as the itinerant frontierpriests, the circuit-riders as they are now called, who lived as Elijahdid, whose temper was very much the temper of Elijah, in whose exaltednarrowness of devotion, all that was stern, dark, foreboding--the verybrood of the forest's innermost heart--had found a voice. Their religionwas ecstasy in homespun, a glory of violent singing, the release of afrantic emotion, formless but immeasurable, which at all other times, inthe severity of the forest routine, gave no sign of its existence. 

A visitor remembered long afterward a handsome young woman who hethought was Nancy Hanks, singing wildly, whirling about as may once havedone the ecstatic women of the woods of Thrace, making her way amongequally passionate worshipers, to the foot of the rude altar, and therecasting herself into the arms of the man she was to marry. (6) So didthousands of forest women in those seasons when their communion with amystic loneliness was confessed, when they gave tongue as simply aswild creatures to the nameless stirrings and promptings of that secretwoodland where Pan was still the lord. And the day following therevival, they were again the silent, expressionless, much enduring, long-suffering forest wives, mothers of many children, toilers ofthe cabins, who cooked and swept and carried fuel by sunlight, and byfirelight sewed and spun. 

It can easily be understood how these women, as a rule, exerted littleinfluence on their sons. Their imaginative side was too deeply hidden, the nature of their pleasures too secret, too mysterious. Male youth, following its obvious pleasure, went with the men to the hunt. The womenremained outsiders. The boy who chose to do likewise, was the incredibleexception. In him had come to a head the deepest things in the forestlife: the darkly feminine things, its silence, its mysticism, itssecretiveness, its tragic patience. Abraham was such a boy. It issaid that he astounded his father by refusing to own a gun. He earnedterrible whippings by releasing animals caught in traps. Though he hadin fullest measure the forest passion for listening to stories, theever-popular tales of Indian warfare disgusted him. But let the taletake on any glint of the mystery of the human soul--as of RobinsonCrusoe alone on his island, or of the lordliness of action, as inColumbus or Washington--and he was quick with interest. The stories oftalking animals out of Aesop fascinated him. 

In this thrilled curiosity about the animals was the side of him leastintelligible to men like his father. It lives in many anecdotes: of hisfriendship with a poor dog he had which he called "Honey"; of pursuinga snake through difficult thickets to prevent its swallowing a frog; ofloitering on errands at the risk of whippings to watch the squirrels inthe tree-tops; of the crowning offense of his childhood, which earnedhim a mighty beating, the saving of a fawn's life by scaring it off justas a hunter's gun was leveled. And by way of comment on all this, thereis the remark preserved in the memory of another boy to whom at the timeit appeared most singular, "God might think as much of that little fawnas of some people. " Of him as of another gentle soul it might have beensaid that all the animals were his brothers and sisters. (7)

One might easily imagine this peculiar boy who chose to remain at homewhile the men went out to slay, as the mere translation into masculinityof his mother, and of her mothers, of all the converging processionsof forest women, who had passed from one to another the secret of theirmysticism, coloring it many ways in the dark vessels of their suppressedlives, till it reached at last their concluding child. But this wouldonly in part explain him. Their mysticism, as after-time was to show, hehad undoubtedly inherited. So, too, from them, it may be, came anothercharacteristic--that instinct to endure, to wait, to abide the issue ofcircumstance, which in the days of his power made him to the politiciansas unintelligible as once he had been to the forest huntsmen. Nevertheless, the most distinctive part of those primitive women, thesealed passionateness of their spirits, he never from childhood to theend revealed. In the grown man appeared a quietude, a sort of trancedcalm, that was appalling. From what part of his heredity did thisderive? Was it the male gift of the forest? Did progenitors worthierthan Thomas somehow cast through him to his alien son that peace theyhad found in the utter heart of danger, that apparent selflessness whichis born of being ever unfailingly on guard?

It is plain that from the first he was a natural stoic, taking hiswhippings, of which there appear to have been plenty, in silence, without anger. It was all in the day's round. Whippings, like otherthings, came and went. What did it matter? And the daily round, thoughmonotonous, had even for the child a complement of labor. Especiallythere was much patient journeying back and forth with meal bags betweenhis father's cabin and the local mill. There was a little schooling, very little, partly from Nancy Lincoln, partly from another good woman, the miller's kind old mother, partly at the crudest of wayside schoolsmaintained very briefly by a wandering teacher who soon wandered on; butout of this schooling very little result beyond the mastery of the A BC. (8) And even at this age, a pathetic eagerness to learn, to invade thewonder of the printed book! Also a marked keenness of observation. Heobserved things which his elders overlooked. He had a better sense ofdirection, as when he corrected his father and others who were takingthe wrong short-cut to a burning house. Cool, unexcitable, he wascapable of presence of mind. Once at night when the door of the cabinwas suddenly thrown open and a monster appeared on the threshold, aspectral thing in the darkness, furry, with the head of an ox, ThomasLincoln shrank back aghast; little Abraham, quicker-sighted andquicker-witted, slipped behind the creature, pulled at its furry mantle, and revealed a forest Diana, a bold girl who amused herself playingdemon among the shadows of the moon. 

Seven years passed and his eighth birthday approached. All this whileThomas Lincoln had somehow kept his family in food, but never had hemoney in his pocket. His successive farms, bought on credit, were neverpaid for. An incurable vagrant, he came at last to the psychologicalmoment when he could no longer impose himself on his community. He musttake to the road in a hazard of new fortune. Indiana appeared to himthe land of promise. Most of his property--such as it was--except hiscarpenter's tools, he traded for whisky, four hundred gallons. Somehowhe obtained a rattletrap wagon and two horses. 

The family appear to have been loath to go. Nancy Lincoln had long beenailing and in low spirits, thinking much of what might happen to herchildren after her death. Abraham loved the country-side, and he hadgood friends in the miller and his kind old mother. But the vagrantThomas would have his way. In the brilliancy of the Western autumn, withthe ruined woods flaming scarlet and gold, these poor people took theirlast look at the cabin that had been their wretched shelter, and setforth into the world. (9)

II THE MYSTERIOUS YOUTH

Vagrants, or little better than vagrants, were Thomas Lincoln and hisfamily making their way to Indiana. For a year after they arrived theywere squatters, their home an "open-faced camp, " that is, a shanty withone wall missing, and instead of chimney, a fire built on the open side. In that mere pretense of a house, Nancy Lincoln and her children spentthe winter of 1816-1817. Then Thomas resorted to his familiar practiceof taking land on credit. The Lincolns were now part of a "settlement"of seven or eight families strung along a little stream known as PigeonCreek. Here Thomas entered a quarter-section of fair land, and in thecourse of the next eleven years succeeded--wonderful to relate--inpaying down sufficient money to give him title to about half. 

Meanwhile, poor fading Nancy went to her place. Pigeon Creek was anout-of-the-way nook in the still unsettled West, and Nancy during thetwo years she lived there could not have enjoyed much of the consolationof her religion. Perhaps now and then she had ghostly council of somestray circuit-rider. But for her the days of the ecstasies had gone by;no great revival broke the seals of the spirit, stirred its deep waters, along Pigeon Creek. There was no religious service when she was laidto rest in a coffin made of green lumber and fashioned by her husband. Months passed, the snow lay deep, before a passing circuit-rider helda burial service over her grave. Tradition has it that the boy Abrahambrought this about very likely, at ten years old, he felt that hertroubled spirit could not have peace till this was done. Shadowy as sheis, ghostlike across the page of history, it is plain that she was areality to her son. He not only loved her but revered her. He believedthat from her he had inherited the better part of his genius. Many yearsafter her death he said, "God bless my mother; all that I am or everhope to be I owe to her. "

Nancy was not long without a successor. Thomas Lincoln, the next year, journeyed back to Kentucky and returned in triumph to Indiana, bringingas his wife, an old flame of his who had married, had been widowed, andwas of a mind for further adventures. This Sarah Bush Lincoln, ofless distinction than Nancy, appears to have been steadier-minded andstronger-willed. Even before this, Thomas had left the half-faced campand moved into a cabin. But such a cabin! It had neither door, norwindow, nor floor. Sally Lincoln required her husband to make of it aproper house--by the standards of Pigeon Creek. She had brought with heras her dowry a wagonload of furniture. These comforts together with herstrong will began a new era of relative comfort in the Lincoln cabin. (1)

Sally Lincoln was a kind stepmother to Abraham who became stronglyattached to her. In the rough and nondescript community of Pigeon Creek, a world of weedy farms, of miserable mud roads, of log farm-houses, thefamily life that was at least tolerable. The sordid misery describedduring her regime emerged from wretchedness to a state of by all therecorders of Lincoln's early days seems to have ended about his twelfthyear. At least, the vagrant suggestion disappeared. Though the lifethat succeeded was void of luxury, though it was rough, even brutal, dominated by a coarse, peasant-like view of things, it was scarcely bypeasant standards a life of hardship. There was food sufficient, if notvery good; protection from wind and weather; fire in the winter time;steady labor; and social acceptance by the community of the creekside. That the labor was hard and long, went without saying. But as tothat--as of the whippings in Kentucky--what else, from the peasant pointof view, would you expect? Abraham took it all with the same stoicismwith which he had once taken the whippings. By the unwritten law of thecreekside he was his father's property, and so was his labor, untilhe came of age. Thomas used him as a servant or hired him out toother farmers. Stray recollections show us young Abraham working asa farm-hand for twenty-five cents the day, probably with "keep" inaddition; we glimpse him slaughtering hogs skilfully at thirty-one centsa day, for this was "rough work. " He became noted as an axman. 

In the crevices, so to speak, of his career as a farm-hand, Abraham gota few months of schooling, less than a year in all. A story that hasbeen repeated a thousand times shows the raw youth by the cabin fireat night doing sums on the back of a wooden shovel, and shaving off itssurface repeatedly to get a fresh page. He devoured every book that camehis way, only a few to be sure, but generally great ones--the Bible, of course, and Aesop, Crusoe, Pilgrim's Progress, and a few histories, these last unfortunately of the poorer sort. He early displayed a bentfor composition, scribbling verses that were very poor, and writingburlesque tales about his acquaintances in what passed for a Biblicalstyle. (2)

One great experience broke the monotony of the life on Pigeon Creek. He made a trip to New Orleans as a "hand" on a flatboat. Of this triplittle is known though much may be surmised. To his deeply poetic naturewhat an experience it must have been: the majesty of the vast river; thepageant of its immense travel; the steamers heavily laden; the fleets ofbarges; the many towns; the nights of stars over wide sweeps of water;the stately plantation houses along the banks; the old French city withits crowds, its bells, the shipping, the strange faces and the foreignspeech; all the bewildering evidence that there were other worldsbesides Pigeon Creek!

What seed of new thinking was sown in his imagination by this Odysseywe shall never know. The obvious effect in the ten years of his lifein Indiana was produced at Pigeon Creek. The "settlement" was withinfifteen miles of the Ohio. It lay in that southerly fringe of Indianawhich received early in the century many families of much the sameestate, character and origin as the Lincolns, --poor whites of the edgesof the great forest working outward toward the prairies. Located on goodland not far from a great highway, the Ohio, it illustrated in itsrude prosperity a transformation that went on unobserved in many suchsettlements, the transformation of the wandering forester of the lowerclass into a peasant farmer. Its life was of the earth, earthy; thoughit retained the religious traditions of the forest, their significancewas evaporating; mysticism was fading into emotionalism; thecamp-meeting was degenerating into a picnic. The supreme social event, the wedding, was attended by festivities that filled twenty-four hours:a race of male guests in the forenoon with a bottle of whisky for aprize; an Homeric dinner at midday; "an afternoon of rough games andoutrageous practical jokes; a supper and dance at night interruptedby the successive withdrawals of the bride and groom, attended byceremonies and jests of more than Rabelaisian crudeness; and a noisydispersal next day. "(3) The intensities of the forest survived in harddrinking, in the fury of the fun-making, and in the hunt. The forestpassion for storytelling had in no way decreased. 

In this atmosphere, about eighteen and nineteen, Abraham shot upsuddenly from a slender boy to a huge, raw-honed, ungainly man, six feetfour inches tall, of unusual muscular strength. His strength was one ofthe fixed conditions of his development. It delivered him from all fearof his fellows. He had plenty of peculiarities. He was ugly, awkward;he lacked the wanton appetites of the average sensual man. And thesepeculiarities without his great strength as his warrant might havebrought him into ridicule. As it was, whatever his peculiarities, ina society like that of Pigeon Creek, the man who could beat allcompetitors, wrestling or boxing, was free from molestation. But Lincolninstinctively had another aim in life than mere freedom to be himself. Two characteristics that were so significant in his childhood continuedwith growing vitality in his young manhood: his placidity and hisintense sense of comradeship. The latter, however, had undergone achange. It was no longer the comradeship of the wild creatures. Thatspurt of physical expansion, the swift rank growth to his tremendousstature, swept him apparently across a dim dividing line, out of theworld of birds and beasts and into the world of men. He took the newworld with the same unfailing but also unexcitable curiosity with whichhe had taken the other, the world of squirrels, flowers, fawns. 

Here as there, the difference from his mother, deep though theirsimilarities may have been, was sharply evident. Had he been wholly atone with her religiously, the gift of telling speech which he now beganto display might have led him into a course that would have rejoicedher heart, might have made him a boy preacher, and later, a greatrevivalist. His father and elder sister while on Pigeon Creek joined thelocal Baptist Church. But Abraham did not follow them. Nor is there asingle anecdote linking him in any way with the fervors of camp meeting. On the contrary, what little is remembered, is of a cool aloofness. (4)The inscrutability of the forest was his--what it gave to the stealthy, cautious men who were too intent on observing, too suspiciouslywatchful, to give vent to their feelings. Therefore, in Lincolnthere was always a double life, outer and inner, the outer quietlycompanionable, the inner, solitary, mysterious. 

It was the outer life that assumed its first definite phase in the yearson Pigeon Creek. During those years, Lincoln discovered his gift ofstory-telling. He also discovered humor. In the employment of bothtalents, he accepted as a matter of course the tone of the youngruffians among whom he dwelt. Very soon this powerful fellow, who couldthrow any of them in a wrestle, won the central position among them by asurer title, by the power to delight. And any one who knows how peasantschools of art arise--for that matter, all schools of art that arevital--knows how he did it. In this connection, his famous biographers, Nicolay and Hay, reveal a certain externality by objecting that a storyattributed to him is ancient. All stories are ancient. Not the tale, butthe telling, as the proverb says, is the thing. In later years, Lincolnwrote down every good story that he heard, and filed it. (5) When itreappeared it had become his own. Who can doubt that this deliberateassimilation, the typical artistic process, began on Pigeon Creek?Lincoln never would have captured as he did his plowboy audience, setthem roaring with laughter in the intervals of labor, had he not giventhem back their own tales done over into new forms brilliantly beyondtheir powers of conception. That these tales were gross, even ribald, might have been taken for granted, even had we not positive evidenceof the fact. Otherwise none of that uproarious laughter which we may besure sounded often across shimmering harvest fields while stalwart youngpagans, ever ready to pause, leaned, bellowing, on the handles of theirscythes, Abe Lincoln having just then finished a story. 

Though the humor of these stories was Falstaffian, to say the least, though Lincoln was cock of the walk among the plowboys of Pigeon Creek, a significant fact with regard to him here comes into view. Not ananecdote survives that in any way suggests personal licentiousness. Scrupulous men who in after-time were offended by his coarseness ofspeech--for more or less of the artist of Pigeon Creek stuck to himalmost to the end; he talked in fables, often in gross fables--thesemen, despite their annoyance, felt no impulse to attribute to himpersonal habits in harmony with his tales. On the other hand, theywere puzzled by their own impression, never wavering, that he was"pureminded. " The clue which they did not have lay in the nature of hisdouble life. That part of him which, in our modern jargon, we call his"reactions" obeyed a curious law. They dwelt in his outer life withoutpenetrating to the inner; but all his impulses of personal action weresecurely seated deep within. Even at nineteen, for any one attuned tospiritual meaning, he would have struck the note of mystery, faintly, perhaps, but certainly. To be sure, no hint of this reached the mindsof his rollicking comrades of the harvest field. It was not for such asthey to perceive the problem of his character, to suspect that he was agenius, or to guess that a time would come when sincere men would formimpressions of him as dissimilar as black and white. And so far as itwent the observation of the plowboys was correct. The man they saw wasindeed a reflection of themselves. But it was a reflection only. Theirinfluence entered into the real man no more than the image in a mirrorhas entered into the glass. 

III. A VILLAGE LEADER

Though placid, this early Lincoln was not resigned. He differed from theboors of Pigeon Creek in wanting some other sort of life. What it was hewanted, he did not know. His reading had not as yet given him definiteambitions. It may well be that New Orleans was the clue to such stirringin him as there was of that discontent which fanciful people have calleddivine. Remembering New Orleans, could any imaginative youth be contentwith Pigeon Creek?

In the spring of 1830, shortly after he came of age, he agreed for oncewith his father whose chronic vagrancy had reasserted itself. The wholefamily set out again on their wanderings and made their way in an oxcartto a new halting place on the Sangamon River in Illinois. There Abrahamhelped his father clear another piece of land for another illusive"start" in life. The following spring he parted with his family andstruck out for himself. (1) His next adventure was a second trip as aboatman to New Orleans. Can one help suspecting there was vague hope inhis heart that he might be adventuring to the land of hearts' desire?If there was, the yokels who were his fellow boatmen never suspectedit. One of them long afterward asserted that Lincoln returned from NewOrleans fiercely rebellious against its central institution, slavery, and determined to "hit that thing" whenever he could. 

The legend centers in his witnessing a slave auction and giving voice tohis horror in a style quite unlike any of his authentic utterances. Theauthority for all this is doubtful. (2) Furthermore, the Lincoln of 1831was not yet awakened. That inner life in which such a reaction mighttake place was still largely dormant. The outer life, the life of theharvest clown, was still a thick insulation. Apparently, the waking ofthe inner life, the termination of its dormant stage, was reserved foran incident far more personal that fell upon him in desolating force afew years later. 

Following the New Orleans venture, came a period as storekeeper fora man named Denton Offut, in perhaps the least desirable town inIllinois--a dreary little huddle of houses gathered around Rutledge'sMill on the Sangamon River and called New Salem. (3) Though a few ofits people were of a better sort than any Lincoln had yet known except, perhaps, the miller's family in the old days in Kentucky--and still asmaller few were of fine quality, the community for the most part washopeless. A fatality for unpromising neighborhoods overhangs like a doomthe early part of this strange life. All accounts of New Salem representit as predominantly a congregation of the worthless, flung together byunaccountable accident at a spot where there was no genuine reason fora town's existence. A casual town, created by drifters, and void ofsettled purpose. Small wonder that ere long it vanished from the map;that after a few years its drifting congregation dispersed to everycorner of the horizon, and was no more. But during its brief existenceit staged an episode in the development of Lincoln's character. However, this did not take place at once. And before it happened, came anotherturn of his soul's highway scarcely less important. He discovered, orthought he discovered, what he wanted. His vague ambition took shape. Hedecided to try to be a politician. At twenty-three, after living in NewSalem less than a year, this audacious, not to say impertinent, youngman offered himself to the voters of Sangamon County as a candidate forthe Legislature. At this time that humility which was eventually hischaracteristic had not appeared. It may be dated as subsequent to NewSalem--a further evidence that the deep spiritual experience whichclosed this chapter formed a crisis. Before then, at New Salem asat Pigeon Creek, he was but a variant, singularly decent, of theboisterous, frolicking, impertinent type that instinctively sought thelaxer neighborhoods of the frontier. An echo of Pigeon Creek informedthe young storekeeper's first state paper, the announcement of hiscandidacy, in the year 1832. His first political speech was in a curiousvein, glib, intimate and fantastic: "Fellow citizens, I presume you allknow who I am. I am humble Abraham Lincoln. I have been solicited bymany friends to become a candidate for the Legislature. My politics areshort and sweet like the old woman's dance. I am in favor of a nationalbank. I am in favor of the internal improvement system and a highprotective tariff. These are my sentiments and political principles. Ifelected, I shall be thankful; if not it will be all the same. "(4)

However, this bold throw of the dice of fortune was not quite soimpertinent as it seems. During the months when he was in charge ofOffut's grocery store he had made a conquest of New Salem. The villagegrocery in those days was the village club. It had its constantgathering of loafers all of whom were endowed with votes. It was the oneplace through which passed the whole population, in and out, one timeor another. To a clever storekeeper it gave a chance to establish afollowing. Had he, as Lincoln had, the gift of story-telling, the giftof humor, he was a made man. Pigeon Creek over again! Lincoln's wealthof funny stories gave Offut's grocery somewhat the role of a vaudevilletheater and made the storekeeper as popular a man as there was in NewSalem. 

In another way he repeated his conquest of Pigeon Creek. New Salem hadits local Alsatia known as Clary's Grove whose insolent young toughs ledby their chief, Jack Armstrong, were the terror of the neighborhood. Thegroceries paid them tribute in free drinks. Any luckless storekeeperwho incurred their displeasure found his store some fine morning a totalwreck. Lincoln challenged Jack Armstrong to a duel with fists. It wasformally arranged. A ring was formed; the whole village was audience;and Lincoln thrashed him to a finish. But this was only a small partof his triumph. His physical prowess, joined with his humor and hiscompanionableness; entirely captivated Clary's Grove. Thereafter, it wasstorekeeper Lincoln's pocket borough; its ruffians were his body-guard. Woe to any one who made trouble for their hero. 

There were still other causes for his quick rise to the position ofvillage leader. His unfailing kindness was one; his honesty was another. Tales were related of his scrupulous dealings, such as walking adistance of miles in order to correct a trifling error he had made, inselling a poor woman less than the proper weight of tea. Then, too, byNew Salem standards, he was educated. Long practice on the shovel atPigeon Creek had given him a good handwriting, and one of the firstthings he did at New Salem was to volunteer to be clerk of elections. And there was a distinct moral superiority. Little as this would havesignified unbacked by his giant strength since it had that authoritybehind it his morality set him apart from his followers, different, imposing. He seldom, if ever, drank whisky. Sobriety was already therule of his life, both outward and inward. At the same time he wasnot censorious. He accepted the devotion of Clary's Grove withoutthe slightest attempt to make over its bravoes in his own image. Hesympathized with its ideas of sport. For all his kindliness to humans ofevery sort much of his sensitiveness for animals had passed away. He wasnot averse to cock fighting; he enjoyed a horse race. (5) Altogether, inhis outer life, before the catastrophe that revealed him to himself, he was quite as much in the tone of New Salem as ever in that of PigeonCreek. When the election came he got every vote in New Salem exceptthree. (6)

But the village was a small part of Sangamon County. Though Lincolnreceived a respectable number of votes elsewhere, his total was welldown in the running. He remained an inconspicuous minority candidate. 

Meanwhile Offut's grocery had failed. In the midst of the legislativecampaign, Offut's farmer storekeeper volunteered for the Indian Warwith Black Hawk, but returned to New Salem shortly before the electionwithout having once smelled powder. Since his peers were not of amind to give him immediate occupation in governing, he turned again tobusiness. He formed a partnership with a man named Berry. They bought oncredit the wreck of a grocery that had been sacked by Lincoln's friendsof Clary's Grove, and started business as "General Merchants, " under thestyle of Berry & Lincoln. There followed a year of complete unsuccess. Lincoln demonstrated that he was far more inclined to read any chancebook that came his way than to attend to business, and that he had "nomoney sense. " The new firm went the way of Offut's grocery, leavingnothing behind it but debt. The debts did not trouble Berry; Lincolnassumed them all. They formed a dreadful load which he bore with hisusual patience and little by little discharged. Fifteen years passedbefore again he was a free man financially. 

A new and powerful influence came into his life during the half idlenessof his unsuccessful storekeeping. It is worth repeating in his ownwords, or what seems to be the fairly accurate recollection of hiswords: "One day a man who was migrating to the West, drove up in frontof my store with a wagon which contained his family and householdplunder. He asked me if I would buy an old barrel for which he had noroom in his wagon, and which he said contained nothing of special value. I did not want it but to oblige him I bought it and paid him, I think, a half a dollar for it. Without further examination I put it away in thestore and forgot all about it Sometime after, in overhauling things, I came upon the barrel and emptying it upon the floor to see what itcontained, I found at the bottom of the rubbish a complete edition ofBlackstone's Commentaries. I began to read those famous works, and I hadplenty of time; for during the long summer days when the farmers werebusy with their crops, my customers were few and far between. The more Iread, the more intensely interested I became. Never in my whole life wasmy mind so thoroughly absorbed. I read until I devoured them. "(7)

The majesty of the law at the bottom of a barrel of trash discovered ata venture and taking instant possession of the discoverer's mind! Likethe genius issuing grandly in the smoke cloud from the vase drawn up outof the sea by the fisher in the Arabian tale! But this great book wasnot the only magic casket discovered by the idle store-keeper, thebroken seals of which released mighty presences. Both Shakespeare andBurns were revealed to him in this period. Never after did either for amoment cease to be his companion. These literary treasures were foundat Springfield twenty miles from New Salem, whither Lincoln went on footmany a time to borrow books. 

His subsistence, after the failure of Berry & Lincoln, was derived fromthe friendliness of the County Surveyor Calhoun, who was a Democrat, while Lincoln called himself a Whig. Calhoun offered him the post ofassistant. In accepting, Lincoln again displayed the honesty that wasbeginning to be known as his characteristic. He stipulated that heshould be perfectly free to express his opinions, that the office shouldnot be in any respect, a bribe. This being conceded, he went to workfuriously on a treatise upon surveying, and astonishingly soon, with thegenerous help of the schoolmaster of New Salem, was able to take up hisduties. His first fee was "two buckskins which Hannah Armstrong 'fixed'on his pants so the briers would not wear them out. "(8)

Thus time passed until 1834 when he staked his only wealth, hispopularity, in the gamble of an election. This time he was successful. During the following winter he sat in the Legislature of Illinois; ahuge, uncouth, mainly silent member, making apparently no impressionwhatever, very probably striking the educated members as a nonentity inhomespun. (9)

In the spring of 1835, he was back in New Salem, busy again with hissurveying. Kind friends had secured him the office of local postmaster. The delivery of letters was now combined with going to and fro as asurveyor. As the mail came but once a week, and as whatever he had todeliver could generally be carried in his hat, and as payment was inproportion to business done, his revenues continued small. Nevertheless, in the view of New Salem, he was getting on. 

And then suddenly misfortune overtook him. His great adventure, thefirst of those spiritual agonies of which he was destined to endure somany, approached. Hitherto, since childhood, women had played no partin his story. All the recollections of his youth are vague in theirreferences to the feminine. As a boy at Pigeon Creek when old Thomas washiring him out, the women of the settlement liked to have him around, apparently because he was kindly and ever ready to do odd jobs inaddition to his regular work. However, until 1835, his story is that ofa man's man, possibly because there was so much of the feminine inhis own make-up. In 1835 came a change. A girl of New Salem, a prettyvillage maiden, the best the poor place could produce, revealed him tohimself. Sweet Ann Rutledge, the daughter of the tavern-keeper, washis first love. But destiny was against them. A brief engagement wasterminated by her sudden death late in the summer of 1835. Of thisshadowy love-affair very little is known, --though much romantic fancyhas been woven about it. Its significance for after-time is in Lincoln's"reaction. " There had been much sickness in New Salem the summer inwhich Ann died. Lincoln had given himself freely as nurse--the depthof his companionableness thus being proved--and was in an overwroughtcondition when his sorrow struck him. A last interview with the dyinggirl, at which no one was present, left him quite unmanned. A period ofviolent agitation followed. For a time he seemed completely transformed. The sunny Lincoln, the delight of Clary's Grove, had vanished. Inhis place was a desolated soul--a brother to dragons, in the terribleimagery of Job--a dweller in the dark places of affliction. It was hismother reborn in him. It was all the shadowiness of his mother's world;all that frantic reveling in the mysteries of woe to which, hitherto, her son had been an alien. To the simple minds of the villagers withtheir hard-headed, practical way of keeping all things, especially loveand grief, in the outer layer of consciousness, this revelation of anemotional terror was past understanding. Some of them, true to theirtype, pronounced him insane. He was watched with especial vigilanceduring storms, fogs, damp gloomy weather, "for fear of an accident. "Surely, it was only a crazy man, in New Salem psychology, who was heardto say, "I can never be reconciled to have the snow, rains and stormsbeat upon her grave. "(10)

In this crucial moment when the real base of his character had beensuddenly revealed--all the passionateness of the forest shadow, theunfathomable gloom laid so deep at the bottom of his soul--he wascarried through his spiritual eclipse by the loving comprehension of twofine friends. New Salem was not all of the sort of Clary's Grove. Nearby on a farm, in a lovely, restful landscape, lived two people whodeserve to be remembered, Bowlin Green and his wife. They drew Lincolninto the seclusion of their home, and there in the gleaming days ofautumn, when everywhere in the near woods flickered downward, slowly, idly, the falling leaves golden and scarlet, Lincoln recovered hisequanimity. (11) But the hero of Pigeon Creek, of Clary's Grove, did notquite come hack. In the outward life, to be sure, a day came when thesunny story-teller, the victor of Jack Armstrong, was once more whatJack would have called his real self. In the inner life where alonewas his reality, the temper which affliction had revealed to him wasestablished. Ever after, at heart, he was to dwell alone, facing, silent, those inscrutable things which to the primitive mind are thingsof every day. Always, he was to have for his portion in his real self, the dimness of twilight, or at best, the night with its stars, "neverglad, confident morning again. "

IV. REVELATIONS

From this time during many years almost all the men who saw beyond thesurface in Lincoln have indicated, in one way or another, their visionof a constant quality. The observers of the surface did not see it. That is to say, Lincoln did not at once cast off any of his previouscharacteristics. It is doubtful if he ever did. His experience wastenaciously cumulative. Everything he once acquired, he retained, bothin the outer life and the inner; and therefore, to those who did nothave the clue to him, he appeared increasingly contradictory, one thingon the surface, another within. Clary's Grove and the evolutions fromClary's Grove, continued to think of him as their leader. On the otherhand, men who had parted with the mere humanism of Clary's Grove, whowere a bit analytical, who thought themselves still more analytical, seeing somewhat beneath the surface, reached conclusions similar tothose of a shrewd Congressman who long afterward said that Lincoln wasnot a leader of men but a manager of men. (1) This astute distinctionwas not true of the Lincoln the Congressman confronted; nevertheless, itbetrays much both of the observer and of the man he tried to observe. Inthe Congressman's day, what he thought he saw was in reality the shadowof a Lincoln that had passed away, passed so slowly, so imperceptiblythat few people knew it had passed. During many years following 1835, the distinction in the main applied. So thought the men who, likeLincoln's latest law partner, William H. Herndon, were not derivativesof Clary's Grove. The Lincoln of these days was the only one Herndonknew. How deeply he understood Lincoln is justly a matter of debate;but this, at least, he understood--that Clary's Grove, in attributingto Lincoln its own idea of leadership, was definitely wrong. He saw inLincoln, in all the larger matters, a tendency to wait on events, totake the lead indicated by events, to do what shallow people would havecalled mere drifting. To explain this, he labeled him a fatalist. (2) Thelabel was only approximate, as most labels are. But Herndon's effortto find one is significant. In these years, Lincoln took theinitiative--when he took it at all--in a way that most people did notrecognize. His spirit was ever aloof. It was only the every-day, theexternal Lincoln that came into practical contact with his fellows. 

This is especially true of the growing politician. He served fourconsecutive terms in the Legislature without doing anything that hadthe stamp of true leadership. He was not like either of the two types ofpoliticians that generally made up the legislatures of those days--themen who dealt in ideas as political counters, and the men who weregrafters without in their naive way knowing that they were grafters. As a member of the Legislature, Lincoln did not deal in ideas. He wasinstinctively incapable of graft A curiously routine politician, one whohad none of the earmarks familiar in such a person. Aloof, and yet, morethan ever companionable, the power he had in the Legislature--for he hadacquired a measure of power--was wholly personal. Though called a Whig, it was not as a party man but as a personal friend that he was able tocarry through his legislative triumphs. His most signal achievement waswholly a matter of personal politics. There was a general demand forthe removal of the capital from its early seat at Vandalia, and rivalryamong other towns was keen. Sangamon County was bent on winningthe prize for its own Springfield. Lincoln was put in charge of theSpringfield strategy. How he played his cards may be judged from therecollections of another member who seems to have anticipated that noblepolitical maxim, "What's the Constitution between friends?" "Lincoln, "he says, "made Webb and me vote for the removal, though we belongedto the southern end of the state. We defended our vote before ourconstituents by saying that necessity would ultimately force the seatof government to a central position; but in reality, we gave the voteto Lincoln because we liked him, because we wanted to oblige our friend, and because we recognized him as our leader. "(3)

And yet on the great issues of the day he could not lead them. In 1837, the movement of the militant abolitionists, still but a few years old, was beginning to set the Union by the ears. The illegitimate childof Calvinism and the rights of man, it damned with one anathema everyholder of slaves and also every opponent of slavery except its ownuncompromising adherents. Its animosity was trained particularly onevery suggestion that designed to uproot slavery without creating aneconomic crisis, that would follow England's example, and terminate the"peculiar institution" by purchase. The religious side of abolition cameout in its fury against such ideas. Slave-holders were Canaanites. Thenew cult were God's own people who were appointed to feel anew the joyof Israel hewing Agag asunder. Fanatics, terrible, heroic, unashamed, they made two sorts of enemies--not only the partisans of slavery, but all those sane reformers who, while hating slavery, hated also theblood-lust that would make the hewing of Agag a respectable device ofpolitical science. Among the partisans of slavery were the majorityof the Illinois Legislature. Early in 1837, they passed resolutionscondemning abolitionism. Whereupon it was revealed--not that anybodyat the time cared to know the fact, or took it to heart--that amongthe other sort of the enemies of abolition was our good young friend, everybody's good friend, Abe Lincoln. He drew up a protest againstthe Legislature's action; but for all his personal influence in otheraffairs, he could persuade only one member to sign with him. Not histo command at will those who "recognized him as their leader" in theorthodox political game--so discreet, in that it left principles forsome one else to be troubled about! Lincoln's protest was quite too farout of the ordinary for personal politics to endure it. The signerswere asked to proclaim their belief "that the institution of slavery isfounded on both injustice and bad policy; but that the promulgation ofabolition doctrines tends rather to promote than to abate its evils. "(4)

The singular originality of this position, sweeping aside as vain bothparticipants in the new political duel, was quite lost on the littleworld in which Lincoln lived. For after-time it has the interest of abombshell that failed to explode. It is the dawn of Lincoln's intellect. In his lonely inner life, this crude youth, this lover of books in avillage where books were curiosities, had begun to think. The stages ofhis transition from mere story-telling yokel--intellectual only as theartist is intellectual, in his methods of handling--to the man of ideas, are wholly lost. And in this fact we have a prophecy of all the yearsto come. Always we shall seek in vain for the early stages of Lincoln'sideas. His mind will never reveal itself until the moment at whichit engages the world. No wonder, in later times, his close associatespronounced him the most secretive of men; that one of the keenest of hisobservers said that the more you knew of Lincoln, the less you knew ofhim. (5)

Except for the handicap of his surroundings, his intellectual startwould seem belated; even allowing for his handicap, it was certainlyslow. He was now twenty-eight. Pretty well on to reveal for the firsttime intellectual power! Another characteristic here. His mind workedslowly. But it is worth observing that the ideas of the protest werenever abandoned. Still a third characteristic, mental tenacity. Tothe end of his days, he looked askance at the temper of abolitionism, regarded it ever as one of the chief evils of political science. Andquite as significant was another idea of the protest which also haddeveloped from within, which also he never abandoned. 

On the question of the power of the national government with regard toslavery, he took a position not in accord with either of the politicalcreeds of his day. The Democrats had already formulated their doctrinethat the national government was a thing of extremely limited powers, the "glorified policeman" of a certain school of publicists reducedalmost to a minus quantity. The Whigs, though amiably vague on mostthings except money-making by state aid, were supposed to stand for a"strong central government". Abolitionism had forced on both parties atroublesome question, "What about slavery in the District of Columbia, where the national government was supreme?" The Democrats were promptin their reply: Let the glorified policeman keep the peace and leaveprivate interests, such as slave-holding, alone. The Whigs evaded, triednot to apply their theory of "strong" government; they were fearfullest they offend one part of their membership if they asserted thatthe nation had no right to abolish slavery in the District, fearful ofoffending others if they did not. Lincoln's protest asserted that "theCongress of the United States has the power, under the Constitution, toabolish slavery in the District of Columbia but the power ought not tobe exercised, unless at the request of the District. " In other words, Lincoln, when suddenly out of the storm and stress that followed Ann'sdeath his mentality flashes forth, has an attitude toward politicalpower that was not a consequence of his environment, that sets himapart as a type of man rare in the history of statesmanship. What otherAmerican politician of his day--indeed, very few politicians of anyday--would have dared to assert at once the existence of a power andthe moral obligation not to use it? The instinctive American mode oflimiting power is to deny its existence. Our politicians so deeplydistrust our temperament that whatever they may say for rhetoricaleffect, they will not, whenever there is any danger of their being takenat their word, trust anything to moral law. Their minds are normallymechanical. The specific, statutory limitation is the only one that forthem has reality. The truth that temper in politics is as great a factoras law was no more comprehensible to the politicians of 1837 than, say Hamlet or The Last Judgment. But just this is what the crude youngLincoln understood. Somehow he had found it in the depths of his ownnature. The explanation, if any, is to be found in his heredity. Outof the shadowy parts of him, beyond the limits of his or any man'sconscious vision, dim, unexplored, but real and insistent as thoseforest recesses from which his people came, arise the two ideas: thefaith in a mighty governing power; the equal faith that it should useits might with infinite tenderness, that it should be slow to compelresults, even the result of righteousness, that it should be tolerant ofhuman errors, that it should transform them slowly, gradually, as do thegradual forces of nature, as do the sun and the rain. 

And such was to be the real Lincoln whenever he spoke out, to the end. His tonic was struck by his first significant utterance at the age oftwenty-eight. How inevitable that it should have no significance to thecongregation of good fellows who thought of him merely as one of theirown sort, who put up with their friend's vagary, and speedily forgot it. 

The moment was a dreary one in Lincoln's fortunes. By dint of muchreading of borrowed books, he had succeeded in obtaining from theeasy-going powers that were in those days, a license to practise law. Inthe spring of 1837 he removed to Springfield. He had scarcely a dollarin his pocket. Riding into Springfield on a borrowed horse, with all theproperty he owned, including his law books, in two saddlebags, he wentto the only cabinet-maker in the town and ordered a single bedstead. He then went to the store of Joshua F. Speed. The meeting, an immenselyeventful one for Lincoln, as well as a classic in the history of geniusin poverty, is best told in Speed's words: "He came into my store, sethis saddle-bags on the counter and inquired what the furnishings for asingle bedstead would cost. I took slate and pencil, made a calculationand found the sum for furnishings complete, would amount to seventeendollars in all. Said he: 'It is probably cheap enough, but I want tosay that, cheap as it is, I have not the money to pay; but if you willcredit me until Christmas, and my experiment here as a lawyer is asuccess, I will pay you then. If I fail in that I will probably neverpay you at all. ' The tone of his voice was so melancholy that I felt forhim. I looked up at him and I thought then as I think now that I neversaw so gloomy and melancholy a face in my life. I said to him: 'So smalla debt seems to affect you so deeply, I think I can suggest a plan bywhich you will be able to attain your end without incurring any debt. Ihave a very large room and a very large double bed in it, which you areperfectly welcome to share with me if you choose. ' 'Where is your room?'he asked. 'Up-stairs, ' said I, pointing to the stairs leading from thestore to my room. Without saying a word, he took his saddle-bags on hisarm, went upstairs, set them down on the floor, came down again, andwith a face beaming with pleasure and smiles exclaimed, 'Well, Speed, I'm moved. '"(6)

This was the beginning of a friendship which appears to have been theonly one of its kind Lincoln ever had. Late in life, with his giftedprivate secretaries, with one or two brilliant men whom he did not meetuntil middle age, he had something like intimate comradeship. Buteven they did not break the prevailing solitude of his inner life. Hisaloofness of soul became a fixed condition. The one intruder in thatlonely inner world was Speed. In the great collection of Lincoln'sletters none have the intimate note except the letters to Speed. Andeven these are not truly intimate with the exception of a single groupinspired all by the same train of events. The deep, instinctive reserveof Lincoln's nature was incurable. The exceptional group of lettersinvolve his final love-affair. Four years after his removal toSpringfield, Lincoln became engaged to Miss Mary Todd. By that time hehad got a start at the law and was no longer in grinding poverty. If notyet prosperous, he had acquired "prospects"--the strong likelihood ofbetter things to come so dear to the buoyant heart of the early West. 

Hospitable Springfield, some of whose best men had known him in theLegislature, opened its doors to him. His humble origin, his poorcondition, were forgiven. In true Western fashion, he was frankly puton trial to show what was in him. If he could "make good" nofurther questions would be asked. And in every-day matters, hiscompanionableness rose to the occasion. Male Springfield was captivatedalmost as easily as New Salem. 

But all this was of the outer life. If the ferment within was constantbetween 1835 and 1840, the fact is lost in his taciturnity. But there issome evidence of a restless emotional life. 

In the rebound after the woe following Ann's death, he had gone questingafter happiness--such a real thing to him, now that he had discoveredthe terror of unhappiness--in a foolish half-hearted courtship of abouncing, sensible girl named Mary Owens, who saw that he was not reallyin earnest, decided that he was deficient in those "little links thatmake up a woman's happiness, " and sent him about his business--rather, on the whole, to his relief. (7) The affair with Miss Todd had adifferent tone from the other. The lady was of another world socially. The West in those days swarmed with younger sons, or the equivalentsof younger sons, seeking their fortunes, whom sisters and cousins werefrequently visiting. Mary Todd was sister-in-law to a leading citizenof Springfield. Her origin was of Kentucky and Virginia, with definiteclaims to distinction. Though a family genealogy mounts as high as thesixth century, sober history is content with a grandfather and greatgrandfather who were military men of some repute, two great uncles whowere governors, and another who was a cabinet minister. Rather imposingcontrasted with the family tree of the child of Thomas Lincoln and NancyHanks! Even more significant was the lady's education. She had been to aschool where young ladies of similar social pretensions were allowed tospeak only the French language. She was keenly aware of the role markedout for her by destiny, and quite convinced that she would always inevery way live up to it. 

The course of her affair with Lincoln did not run smooth. There werewide differences of temperament; quarrels of some sort--just what, gossip to this day has busied itself trying to discover--and on January1, 1841, the engagement was broken. Before the end of the month hewrote to his law partner apologizing for his inability to be coherenton business matters. "For not giving you a general summary of news, you must pardon me; it is not in my power to do so. I am now the mostmiserable man living. If what I feel were distributed to the whole humanfamily, there would not be one cheerful face on earth. Whether I shallever be better, I can not tell. I awfully forebode I shall not. Toremain as I am is impossible. I must die or be better, it appears to me. . . A change of scene might help me. "

His friend Speed became his salvation. Speed closed out his business andcarried Lincoln off to visit his own relations in Kentucky. It was thedevotion of Bowlin Green and his wife over again. But the psychologyof the event was much more singular. Lincoln, in the inner life, hadprogressed a long way since the death of Ann, and the progress wasmainly in the way of introspection, of self-analysis. He had begun tobrood. As always, the change did not reveal itself until an event in theoutward life called it forth like a rising ghost from the abyss of hissilences. His friends had no suspicion that in his real self, beneaththe thick disguise of his external sunniness, he was forever brooding, questioning, analyzing, searching after the hearts of things both withinand without. . 

"In the winter of 1840 and 1841, " writes Speed, "he was unhappy aboutthe engagement to his wife--not being entirely satisfied that his heartwas going with his hand. How much he suffered then on that account, none knew so well as myself; he disclosed his whole heart to me. In thesummer of 1841 I became engaged to my wife. He was here on a visit whenI courted her; and strange to say, something of the same feeling whichI regarded as so foolish in him took possession of me, and kept me veryunhappy from the time of my engagement until I was married. This willexplain the deep interest he manifested in his letters on my account. . . . One thing is plainly discernible; if I had not been married and happy, far more happy than I ever expected to be, he would not have married. "

Whether or not Speed was entirely right in his final conclusion, it isplain that he and Lincoln were remarkably alike in temperament; thatwhatever had caused the break in Lincoln's engagement was repeated inhis friend's experience when the latter reached a certain degree ofemotional tension; that this paralleling of Lincoln's own experiencein the experience of the friend so like himself, broke tip for oncethe solitude of his inner life and delivered him from some dire inwardterror. Both men were deeply introspective. Each had that overpoweringsense of the emotional responsibilities of marriage, which is bred inthe bone of certain hyper-sensitive types--at least in the Anglo-Saxonrace. But neither realized this trait in himself until, having blithelypursued his impulse to the point of committal, his spiritual consciencesuddenly awakened and he asked of his heart, "Do I truly love her? Am Iperfectly sure the emotion is permanent?"

It is on this speculation that the unique group of the intimate lettersto Speed are developed. They were written after Lincoln's return toSpringfield, while Speed was wrestling with the demon of self-analysis. In the period which they cover, Lincoln delivered himself from that samedemon and recovered Serenity. Before long he was writing: "I know whatthe painful point with you is at all times when you are unhappy; it isan apprehension that you do not love her as you should. What nonsense!How came you to court her? Was it because you thought she deserved itand that you had given her reason to expect it? If it was for that, whydid not the same reason make you court Ann Todd, and at least twentyothers of whom you can think, to whom it would apply with greater forcethan to her? Did you court her for her wealth? Why, you said she hadnone. But you say you reasoned yourself into it. What do you mean bythat? Was it not that you found yourself unable to reason yourselfout of it?" And much more of the same shrewd sensible sort, --a pictureunintentionally of his own state of mind no less than of his friend's. 

This strange episode reveals also that amid Lincoln's silences, whilethe outward man appeared engrossed in everyday matters, the inwardman had been seeking religion. His failure to accept the forms of hismother's creed did not rest on any lack of the spiritual need. Thoughundefined, his religion glimmers at intervals through the Speed letters. When Speed's fiancee fell ill and her tortured lover was in a paroxysmof remorse and grief, Lincoln wrote: "I hope and believe that yourpresent anxiety and distress about her health and her life must and willforever banish those horrid doubts which I know you sometimes felt asto the truth of your affection for her. If they can once and foreverbe removed (and I feel a presentment that the Almighty has sent yourpresent affliction expressly for that object) surely nothing can comein their stead to fill their immeasurable measure of misery. . . Shouldshe, as you fear, be destined to an early grave, it is indeed a greatconsolation to know she is so well prepared to meet it. "

Again he wrote: "I was always superstitious. I believe God made me oneof the instruments of bringing you and your Fanny together, which unionI have no doubt lie had foreordained. Whatever He designs He will do forme yet. 'Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord' is my text now. "

The duality in self-torture of these spiritual brethren endured in allabout a year and a half, and closed with Speed's marriage. Lincoln wasnow entirely delivered from his demon. He wrote Speed a charming letter, serene, affectionate, touched with gentle banter, valiant though witha hint of disillusion as to their common type. "I tell you, Speed, ourforebodings (for which you and I are peculiar) are all the worst sortof nonsense. . You say you much fear that that elysium of which you havedreamed so much is never to be realized. Well, if it shall not, I dareswear it will not be the fault of her who is now your wife. I have nodoubt that it is the peculiar misfortune of both you and me todream dreams of elysium far exceeding all that anything earthly canrealize. "(8)

V. PROSPERITY

How Lincoln's engagement was patched up is as delicious an uncertainty, from gossip's point of view, as how it had been broken off. Possibly, asmany people have asserted, it was brought about by an event of which, inthe irony of fate, Lincoln ever after felt ashamed. (1) An impulsive, not overwise politician, James Shields, a man of many peculiarities, wassaucily lampooned in a Springfield paper by some jaunty girls, one ofwhom was Miss Todd. 

Somehow, --the whole affair is very dim, --Lincoln acted as their literaryadviser. Shields demanded the name of his detractor; Lincoln assumedthe responsibility; a challenge followed. Lincoln was in a ridiculousposition. He extricated himself by a device which he used more than oncethereafter; he gravely proposed the impossible. He demanded conditionswhich would have made the duel a burlesque--a butcher's match withcavalry broadswords. But Shields, who was flawlessly literal, insisted. The two met and only on the dueling ground was the quarrel at lasttalked into oblivion by the seconds. Whether this was the cause of thereconciliation with Miss Todd, or a consequence, or had nothing to dowith it, remains for the lovers of the unimportant to decide. The onlysure fact in this connection is the marriage which took place November4, 1842. (2)

Mrs. Lincoln's character has been much discussed. Gossip, though withvery little to go on, has built up a tradition that the marriage wasunhappy. If one were to believe the half of what has been put in print, one would have to conclude that the whole business was a wretchedmistake; that Lincoln found married life intolerable because of thefussily dictatorial self-importance of his wife. But the authorityfor all these tales is meager. Not one is traceable to the partiesthemselves. Probably it will never be known till the end of time whatis false in them, what true. About all that can be disengaged from thiscloud of illusive witnesses is that Springfield wondered why Mary Toddmarried Lincoln. He was still poor; so poor that after marriage theylived at the Globe Tavern on four dollars a week. And the lady had beensought by prosperous men! The lowliness of Lincoln's origin went illwith her high notions of her family's importance. She was downright, high-tempered, dogmatic, but social; he was devious, slow to wrath, tentative, solitary; his very appearance, then as afterward, wasagainst him. Though not the hideous man he was later made out to be--the"gorilla" of enemy caricaturists--he was rugged of feature, with a lowerlip that tended to protrude. His immense frame was thin and angular; hisarms were inordinately long; hands, feet and eyebrows were large; skinswarthy; hair coarse, black and generally unkempt. Only the amazing, dreamful eyes, and a fineness in the texture of the skin, redeemed theface and gave it distinction. (3) Why did precise, complacent Miss Toddpick out so strange a man for her mate? The story that she marriedhim for ambition, divining what he was to be--like Jane Welsh in theconventional story of Carlyle--argues too much of the gift of prophecy. Whatever her motive, it is more than likely that she was what thecommercialism of to-day would call an "asset. " She had certain qualitiesthat her husband lacked. For one, she had that intuition for the mainchance which shallow people confound with practical judgment. Her soulinhabited the obvious; but within the horizon of the obvious she wasshrewd, courageous and stubborn. Not any danger that Mary Lincoln wouldgo wandering after dreams, visions, presences, such as were driftingever in a ghostly procession at the back of her husband's mind. Therewas a danger in him that was to grow with the years, a danger that theouter life might be swamped by the inner, that the ghosts within mightcarry him away with them, away from fact--seeking-seeking. That thisnever occurred may be fairly credited, or at least very plausiblycredited, to the firm-willed, the utterly matter-of-fact little personhe had married. How far he enjoyed the mode of his safe-guarding is afruitless speculation. 

Another result that may, perhaps, be due to Mary Lincoln was theimprovement in his fortunes. However, this may have had no other sourcethan a distinguished lawyer whose keen eyes had been observing himsince his first appearance in politics. Stephen T. Logan "had thatold-fashioned, lawyer-like morality which was keenly intolerant of anylaxity or slovenliness of mind or character. " He had, "as he deserved, the reputation of being the best nisi prius lawyer in the state. "(4)After watching the gifted but ill-prepared young attorney during severalyears, observing the power he had of simplification and convincingnessin statement, taking the measure of his scrupulous honesty--these wereever Lincoln's strong cards as a lawyer--Logan made him the surprisingoffer of a junior partnership, which was instantly accepted. That waswhen his inner horizon was brightening, shortly before his marriage. Aperiod of great mental energy followed, about the years 1842 and 1843. Lincoln threw himself into the task of becoming a real lawyer underLogan's direction. However, his zeal flagged after a time, and when thepartnership ended four years later he had to some extent fallen backinto earlier, less strenuous habits. "He permitted his partner to do allthe studying in the preparation of cases, while he himself trusted tohis general knowledge of the law and the inspiration of the surroundingsto overcome the judge or the jury. "(5) Though Lincoln was to undergostill another stimulation of the scholarly conscience before findinghimself as a lawyer, the four years with Logan were his true studentperiod. If the enthusiasm of the first year did not hold out, none theless he issued from that severe course of study a changed man, one whoknew the difference between the learned lawyer and the unlearned. Hisown methods, to be sure, remained what they always continued to be, unsystematic, not to say slipshod. Even after he became president hislack of system was at times the despair of his secretaries. (6) Herndon, who succeeded Logan as his partner, and who admired both men, has abroad hint that Logan and Lincoln were not always an harmonious firm. A clash of political ambitions is part explanation; business methodsanother. "Logan was scrupulously exact and used extraordinary care inthe preparation of papers. His words were well chosen, and his styleof composition was stately and formal. "(7) He was industrious and verythrifty, while Lincoln had "no money sense. " It must have annoyed, if itdid not exasperate his learned and formal partner, when Lincoln signedthe firm name to such letters as this: "As to real estate, we cannot attend to it. We are not real estate agents, we are lawyers. Werecommend that you give the charge of it to Mr. Isaac S. Britton, a trust-worthy man and one whom the Lord made on purpose for suchbusiness. "(8)

Superficial observers, then and afterward, drew the conclusion thatLincoln was an idler. Long before, as a farm-hand, he had been called"bone idle. "(9) And of the outer Lincoln, except under stress of need, or in spurts of enthusiasm, as in the earlier years with Logan, thisreckless comment had its base of fact. The mighty energy that was inLincoln, a tireless, inexhaustible energy, was inward, of the spirit; itdid not always ramify into the sensibilities and inform his outer life. The connecting link of the two, his mere intelligence, though constantlyobedient to demands of the outer life, was not susceptible of greatstrain except on demand of the spiritual vision. Hence his attitudetoward the study of the law. It thrilled and entranced him, called intoplay all his powers--observation, reflection, intelligence--just solong as it appeared in his imagination a vast creative effort of thespiritual powers, of humanity struggling perilously to see justice doneupon earth, to let reason and the will of God prevail. It lost itshold upon him the instant it became a thing of technicalities, of merelearning, of statutory dialectics. 

The restless, inward Lincoln, dwelling deep among spiritual shadows, found other outlets for his energy during these years when he wasestablishing himself at the bar. He continued to be a voracious reader. And his reading had taken a skeptical turn. Volney and Paine were nowhis intimates. The wave of ultra-rationalism that went over America inthe 'forties did not spare many corners of the land. In Springfield, asin so many small towns, it had two effects: those who were not touchedby it hardened into jealous watchfulness, and their religion naturallyenough became fiercely combative; those who responded to the newinfluence became a little affected philosophically, a bit effervescent. The young men, when of serious mind, and all those who were reformers bytemperament, tended to exalt the new, to patronize, if not to ridiculethe old. At Springfield, as at many another frontier town wracked byits growing pains, a Young Men's Lyceum confessed the world to be out ofjoint, and went to work glibly to set it right. Lincoln had contributedto its achievements. An oration of his on "Perpetuation of Our FreeInstitutions, "(10) a mere rhetorical "stunt" in his worst vein nowdeservedly forgotten, so delighted the young men that they asked to haveit printed--quite as the same sort of young men to-day print essays oncubism, or examples of free verse read to poetry societies. Just whatviews he expressed on things in general among the young men and others;how far he aired his acquaintance with the skeptics, is imperfectlyknown. (11) However, a rumor got abroad that he was an "unbeliever, "which was the easy label for any one who disagreed in religion with theperson who applied it. The rumor was based in part on a passage in anaddress on temperance. In 1842, Lincoln, who had always been abstemious, joined that Washington Society which aimed at a reformation in the useof alcohol. His address was delivered at the request of the society. It contained this passage, very illuminating in its light upon thegenerosity, the real humility of the speaker, but scarcely tactful, considering the religious susceptibility of the hour: "If they (theChristians) believe as they profess, that Omnipotence condescended totake on himself the form of sinful man, and as such die an ignominiousdeath, surely they will not refuse submission to the infinitely lessercondescension for the temporal and perhaps eternal salvation of a large, erring and unfortunate class of their fellow creatures! Nor is thecondescension very great. In my judgment such of us as have never fallenvictims have been spared more from the absence of appetite than from anymental or moral superiority over those who have. Indeed, I believe, ifwe take habitual drunkards as a class, their heads and their hearts willbear an advantageous comparison with those of any other class. "(12) Howlike that remark attributed to another great genius, one whom Lincolnin some respects resembled, the founder of Methodism, when he said of apassing drunkard: "There goes John Wesley, except for the Grace of God. "But the frontier zealots of the 'forties were not of the Wesley type. The stories of Lincoln's skeptical interests, the insinuations whichwere promptly read into this temperance address, the fact that he wasnot a church-member, all these were seized upon by a good but verynarrow man, a devoted, illiterate evangelist, Peter Cartwright. 

In 1846, this religious issue became a political issue. The Whigsnominated Lincoln for Congress. It was another instance of personalpolitics. The local Whig leaders had made some sort of privateagreement, the details of which appear to be lost, but according towhich Lincoln now became the inevitable candidate. (13) He was nominatedwithout opposition. The Democrats nominated Cartwright. 

Two charges were brought against Lincoln: that he was an infidel, and that he was--of all things in the world!--an aristocrat. On thesecharges the campaign was fought. The small matter of what he would do atWashington, or would not do, was brushed aside. Personal politics witha vengeance! The second charge Lincoln humorously and abundantlydisproved; the first, he met with silence. 

Remembering Lincoln's unfailing truthfulness, remembering also hisrestless ambition, only one conclusion can be drawn from this silence. He could not categorically deny Cartwright's accusation and at the sametime satisfy his own unsparing conception of honesty. That there wasno real truth in the charge of irreligion, the allusions in the Speedletters abundantly prove. The tone is too sincere to be doubted;nevertheless, they give no clue to his theology. And for men likeCartwright, religion was tied up hand and foot in theology. Here waswhere Lincoln had parted company from his mother's world, and from itsderivatives. Though he held tenaciously to all that was mystical inher bequest to him, he rejected early its formulations. The evidence oflater years reaffirms this double fact. The sense of a spiritual worldbehind, beyond the world of phenomena, grew on him with the years; thepower to explain, to formulate that world was denied him. He had nobent for dogma. Ethically, mystically, he was always a Christian;dogmatically he knew not what he was. Therefore, to the challenge toprove himself a Christian on purely dogmatic grounds, he had no reply. To attempt to explain what separated him from his accusers, to show howfrom his point of view they were all Christian--although, rememberingtheir point of view, he hesitated to say so--to draw the line betweenmysticism and emotionalism, would have resulted only in a worseconfusion. Lincoln, the tentative mystic, the child of the starlitforest, was as inexplicable to Cartwright with his perfectly downrightreligion, his creed of heaven or hell--take your choice and be quickabout it!--as was Lincoln the spiritual sufferer to New Salem, orLincoln the political scientist to his friends in the Legislature. 

But he was not injured by his silence. The faith in him held by too manypeople was too well established. Then, as always thereafter, whateverhe said or left unsaid, most thoughtful persons who came close to himsensed him as a religious man. That was enough for healthy, generousyoung Springfield. He and Cartwright might fight out their religiousissues when they pleased, Abe should have his term in Congress. He waselected by a good majority. (14)

VI. UNSATISFYING RECOGNITION

Lincoln's career as a Congressman, 1847-1849, was just what might havebeen expected--his career in the Illinois Legislature on a larger scale. It was a pleasant, companionable, unfruitful episode, with no politicalsignificance. The leaders of the party did not take him seriously as apossible initiate to their ranks. His course was that of a loyal memberof the Whig mass. In the party strategy, during the debates over theMexican War and the Wilmot Proviso, he did his full party duty, votingjust as the others did. Only once did he attempt anything original--abill to emancipate the slaves of the District, which was little morethan a restatement of his protest of ten years before--and on this pointCongress was as indifferent as the Legislature had been. The bill wasdenied a hearing and never came to a vote before the House. (1)

And yet Lincoln did not fail entirely to make an impression atWashington. And again it was the Springfield experience repeated. Hiscompanionableness was recognized, his modesty, his good nature; aboveall, his story-telling. Men liked him. Plainly it was his humor, hisdroll ways, that won them; together with instant recognition of hissterling integrity. 

"During the Christmas holidays, " says Ben Perley Poore, "Mr. Lincolnfound his way into the small room used as the Post Office of the House, where a few genial reconteurs used to meet almost every morning afterthe mail had been distributed into the members' boxes, to exchange suchnew stories as any of them might have acquired since they had last met. After modestly standing at the door for several days, Mr. Lincoln wasreminded of a story, and by New Year's he was recognized as the championstory-teller of the Capital. His favorite seat was at the left of theopen fireplace, tilted back in his chair with his long legs reachingover to the chimney jamb. "(2)

In the words of another contemporary, "Congressman Lincoln was very fondof howling and would frequently. . . Meet other members in a match gameat the alley of James Casparus. . . . He was an awkward bowler, butplayed the game with great zest and spirit solely for exercise andamusement, and greatly to the enjoyment and entertainment of the otherplayers, and by reason of his criticisms and funny illustrations. . . . When it was known that he was in the alley, there would assemble numbersof people to witness the fun which was anticipated by those who knewof his fund of anecdotes and jokes. When in the alley, surrounded by acrowd of eager listeners, he indulged with great freedom in the sport ofnarrative, some of which were very broad. "(3)

Once, at least, he entertained Congress with an exhibition of his humor, and this, oddly enough, is almost the only display of it that has comedown to us, first hand. Lincoln's humor has become a tradition. Likeeverything else in his outward life, it changed gradually with his slowdevious evolution from the story-teller of Pigeon Creek to the authorof the Gettysburg Oration. It is known chiefly through translation. The"Lincoln Stories" are stories someone else has told who may or may nothave heard them told by Lincoln. They are like all translations, theyexpress the translator not the original--final evidence that Lincoln'sappeal as a humorist was in his manner, his method, not in hissubstance. "His laugh was striking. Such awkward gestures belonged to noother man. They attracted universal attention from the old sedate downto the schoolboy. "(4) He was a famous mimic. 

Lincoln is himself the authority that he did not invent his stories. He picked them up wherever he found them, and clothed them with thepeculiar drollery of his telling. He was a wag rather than a wit. Allthat lives in the second-hand repetitions of his stories is themere core, the original appropriated thing from which the inimitabledecoration has fallen off. That is why the collections of his storiesare such dreary reading, --like Carey's Dante, or Bryant's Homer. Andstrange to say, there is no humor in his letters. This man whowas famous as a wag writes to his friends almost always in perfectseriousness, often sadly. The bit of humor that has been preservedin his one comic speech in Congress, --a burlesque of the Democraticcandidate of 1848, Lewis Cass, --shorn as it is of his manner, his tricksof speech and gesture, is hardly worth repeating. (5)

Lincoln was deeply humiliated by his failure to make a seriousimpression at Washington. (6) His eyes opened in a startled realizationthat there were worlds he could not conquer. The Washington of the'forties was far indeed from a great capital; it was as friendly toconventional types of politician as was Springfield or Vandalia. The manwho could deal in ideas as political counters, the other man who knewthe subtleties of the art of graft, both these were national as well aslocal figures. Personal politics were also as vicious at Washington asanywhere; nevertheless, there was a difference, and in that differencelay the secret of Lincoln's failure. He was keen enough to grasp thedifference, to perceive the clue to his failure. In a thousand ways, large and small, the difference came home to him. It may all besymbolized by a closing detail of his stay. An odd bit of incongruitywas the inclusion of his name in the list of managers of the InauguralBall of 1849. Nothing of the sort had hitherto entered into hisexperience. As Mrs. Lincoln was not with him he joined "a small party ofmutual friends" who attended the ball together. As one of them relates, "he was greatly interested in all that was to be seen and we did nottake our departure until three or four o'clock in the morning. "(7)What an ironic picture--this worthy provincial, the last word forawkwardness, socially as strange to such a scene as a little child, spending the whole night gazing intently at everything he could see, at the barbaric display of wealth, the sumptuous gowns, the brilliantuniforms, the distinguished foreigners, and the leaders of America, menlike Webster and Clay, with their air of assured power, the men he hadfailed to impress. This was his valedictory at Washington. He went homeand told Herndon that he had committed political suicide. (8) He had metthe world and the world was too strong for him. 

And yet, what was wrong? He had been popular at Washington, in the sameway in which he had been popular at Springfield. Why had the same sortof success inspired him at Springfield and humiliated him atWashington? The answer was in the difference between the two worlds. Companionableness, story-telling, at Springfield, led to influence; atWashington it led only to applause. At Springfield it was a means; atWashington it was an end. The narrow circle gave the good fellow anopportunity to reveal at his leisure everything else that was in him;the larger circle ruthlessly put him in his place as a good fellow andnothing more. The truth was that in the Washington of the 'forties, neither the inner nor the outer Lincoln could by itself find lodgment. Neither the lonely mystical thinker nor the captivating buffoon could domore than ripple its surface. As superficial as Springfield, it lackedSpringfield's impulsive generosity. To the long record of its obtusenessit had added another item. The gods had sent it a great man and it hadno eyes to see. It was destined to repeat the performance. 

And so Lincoln came home, disappointed, disillusioned. He had notsucceeded in establishing the slightest claim, either upon the countryor his party. Without such claim he had no ground for attemptingreelection. The frivolity of the Whig machine in the Sangamon regionwas evinced by their rotation agreement. Out of such grossly personalpolitics Lincoln had gone to Washington; into this essentially corruptsystem he relapsed. He faced, politically, a blank wall. And he hadwithin him as yet, no consciousness of any power that might cleave thewall asunder. What was he to do next?

At this dangerous moment--so plainly the end of a chapter--he wasoffered the governorship of the new Territory of Oregon. For the firsttime he found himself at a definite parting of the ways, where a sheeract of will was to decide things; where the pressure of circumstance wasof secondary importance. 

In response to this crisis, an overlooked part of him appeared. Theinheritance from his mother, from the forest, had always been obvious. But, after all, he was the son not only of Nancy and of the lonelystars, but also of shifty, drifty Thomas the unstable. If it was nothis paternal inheritance that revived in him at this moment of confessedfailure, it was something of the same sort. Just as Thomas had alwaysby way of extricating himself from a failure taken to the road, nowAbraham, at a psychological crisis, felt the same wanderlust, and hethreatened to go adrift. Some of his friends urged him to accept. "Youwill capture the new community, " said they, "and when Oregon becomes aState, you will go to Washington as its first Senator. " What aglorified application of the true Thomasian line of thought. Lincolnhesitated--hesitated--

And then the forcible little lady who had married him put her foot down. Go out to that far-away backwoods, just when they were beginning to geton in the world; when real prosperity at Springfield was surely withintheir grasp; when they were at last becoming people of importance, whoshould be able to keep their own carriage? Not much!

Her husband declined the appointment and resumed the practice of law inSpringfield. (9)

VII. THE SECOND START

Stung by his failure at Washington, Lincoln for a time put his wholesoul into the study of the law. He explained his failure to himself asa lack of mental training. (1) There followed a repetition of his earlyyears with Logan, but with very much more determination, and with moreabiding result. 

In those days in Illinois, as once in England, the judges held court ina succession of towns which formed a circuit. Judge and lawyersmoved from town to town, "rode the circuit" in company, --sometimes onhorseback, sometimes in their own vehicles, sometimes by stage. Amongthe reminiscences of Lincoln on the circuit, are his "poky" old horseand his "ramshackle" old buggy. Many and many a mile, round and roundthe Eighth Judicial Circuit, he traveled in that humble style. Whatthoughts he brooded on in his lonely drives, he seldom told. Duringthis period the cloud over his inner life is especially dense. The outerlife, in a multitude of reminiscences, is well known. One of its salientdetails was the large proportion of time he devoted to study. 

"Frequently, I would go out on the circuit with him, " writes Herndon. "We, usually, at the little country inn, occupied the same bed. In mostcases, the beds were too short for him and his feet would hang over thefootboard, thus exposing a limited expanse of shin bone. Placing hiscandle at the head of his bed he would read and study for hours. I haveknown him to stay in this position until two o'clock in the morning. Meanwhile, I and others who chanced to occupy the same room would besafely and soundly asleep. On the circuit, in this way, he studiedEuclid until he could with ease demonstrate all the propositions inthe six books. How he could maintain his equilibrium or concentrate histhoughts on an abstract mathematical problem, while Davis, Logan, Swett, Edwards and I, so industriously and volubly filled the air with ourinterminable snoring, was a problem none of, us--could ever solve. "(2)

A well-worn copy of Shakespeare was also his constant companion. 

He rose rapidly in the profession; and this in spite of his incorrigiblelack of system. The mechanical side of the lawyer's task, now, as in thedays with Logan, annoyed him; he left the preparation of papers to hisjunior partner, as formerly he left it to his senior partner. But thesituation had changed in a very important way. In Herndon, Lincoln hadfor a partner a talented young man who looked up to him, almost adoredhim, who was quite willing to be his man Friday. Fortunately, for allhis adoration, Herndon had no desire to idealize his hero. He was notdisturbed by his grotesque or absurd sides. 

"He was proverbially careless as to his habits, " Herndon writes. "In aletter to a fellow lawyer in another town, apologizing for his failureto answer sooner, he explains: 'First, I have been very busy in theUnited States Court; second, when I received the letter, I put it in myold hat, and buying a new one the next day, the old one was set aside, so the letter was lost sight of for the time. ' This hat of Lincoln's--asilk plug--was an extraordinary receptacle. It was his desk and hismemorandum book. In it he carried his bank-book and the bulk of hisletters. Whenever in his reading or researches, he wished to preservean idea, he jotted it down on an envelope or stray piece of paper andplaced it inside the lining; afterwards, when the memorandum was needed, there was only one place to look for it. " Herndon makes no bones aboutconfessing that their office was very dirty. So neglected was it that ayoung man of neat habits who entered the office as a law student underLincoln could not refrain from cleaning it up, and the next visitorexclaimed in astonishment, "What's happened here!"(3)

"The office, " says that same law student, "was on the second floor of abrick building on the public square opposite the courthouse. You wentup a flight of stairs and then passed along a hallway to the rear officewhich was a medium sized room. There was one long table in the center ofthe room, and a shorter one running in the opposite direction forming aT and both were covered with green baize. There were two windows whichlooked into the back yard. In one corner was an old-fashioned secretarywith pigeonholes and a drawer; and here Mr. Lincoln and his partner kepttheir law papers. There was also a bookcase containing about two hundredvolumes of law and miscellaneous books. " The same authority adds, "Therewas no order in the office at all. " Lincoln left all the money mattersto Herndon. "He never entered an item on the account book. If a fee waspaid to him and Herndon was not there, he would divide the money, wrap up one part in paper and place it in his partner's desk with theinscription, 'Case of Roe versus Doe, Herndon's half. ' He had an oddhabit of reading aloud much to his partner's annoyance. He talkedincessantly; a whole forenoon would sometimes go by while Lincolnoccupied the whole time telling stories. "(4)

On the circuit, his story-telling was an institution. Two other men, long since forgotten, vied with him as rival artists in humorousnarrative. These three used to hold veritable tournaments. Herndon hasseen "the little country tavern where these three were wont to meetafter an adjournment of court, crowded almost to suffocation, withan audience of men who had gathered to witness the contest among themembers of the strange triumvirate. The physicians of the town, all thelawyers, and not infrequently a preacher, could be found in the crowdthat filled the doors and windows. The yarns they spun and the storiesthey told would not bear repetition here, but many of them had moralswhich, while exposing the weakness of mankind, stung like a whiplash. Some were, no doubt, a thousand years old, with just enough of verbalvarnish and alterations of names and date to make them new and crisp. Byvirtue of the last named application, Lincoln was enabled to draw fromBalzac a 'droll story' and locating it 'in Egypt' (Southern Illinois)or in Indiana, pass it off for a purely original conception. . . I haveseen Judge Treat, who was the very impersonation of gravity itself, situp till the last and laugh until, as he often expressed it, 'he almostshook his ribs loose. ' The next day he would ascend the bench and listento Lincoln in a murder trial with all the seeming severity of an Englishjudge in wig and gown. "(5)

Lincoln enjoyed the life on the circuit. It was not that he was alwaysin a gale of spirits; a great deal of the time he brooded. His Homericnonsense alternated with fits of gloom. In spite of his late hours, whether of study or of story-telling, he was an early riser. "He wouldsit by the fire having uncovered the coals, and muse and ponder andsoliloquize. "(6) Besides his favorite Shakespeare, he had a fondness forpoetry of a very different sort--Byron, for example. And he never tiredof a set of stanzas in the minor key beginning: "Oh, why should thespirit of mortal be proud?"(7)

The hilarity of the circuit was not by any means the whole of its charmfor him. Part of that charm must have been the contrast with his recentfailure at Washington. This world he could master. Here his humorincreased his influence; and his influence grew rapidly. He was afavorite of judges, jury and the bar. Then, too, it was a man's world. Though Lincoln had a profound respect for women, he seems generally tohave been ill at ease in their company. In what his friends would havecalled "general society" he did not shine. He was too awkward, toodownright, too lacking in the niceties. At home, though he now owneda house and was making what seemed to him plenty of money, he wasundoubtedly a trial to Mrs. Lincoln's sense of propriety. He could notrise with his wife, socially. He was still what he had become so longbefore, the favorite of all the men--good old Abe Lincoln that you couldtie to though it rained cats and dogs. But as to the ladies! Fashionablepeople calling on Mrs. Lincoln, had been received by her husband in hisshirt-sleeves, and he totally unabashed, as oblivious of discrepancyas if he were a nobleman and not a nobody. (8) The dreadful traditionpersists that he had been known at table to put his own knife into thebutter. 

How safe to assume that many things were said commiserating poor Mrs. Lincoln who had a bear for a husband. And some people noticed thatLincoln did not come home at week-ends during term-time as often as hemight. Perhaps it meant something; perhaps it did not. But there couldbe no doubt that the jovial itinerant life of the circuit was the lifefor him--at least in the early 'fifties. That it was, and also thathe was becoming known as a lawyer, is evinced by his refusal of aflattering invitation to enter a prosperous firm in Chicago. 

Out of all this came a deepening of his power to reach and impressmen through words. The tournament of the story-tellers was a lawyers'tournament. The central figure was reading, studying, thinking, as neverin his life before. Though his fables remained as broad as ever, themerely boisterous character ceased to predominate. The ethical bent ofhis mind came to the surface. His friends were agreed that what theyremembered chiefly of his stories was not the broad part of them, butthe moral that was in them. (9) And they had no squeamishness as criticsof the art of fable-making. 

His ethical sense of things, his companionableness, the utterlynon-censorious cast of his mind, his power to evolve yarns intoparables--all these made him irresistible with a jury. It was a sayingof his: "If I can divest this case of technicalities and swing it to thejury, I'll win it. "(10)

But there was not a trace in him of that unscrupulousness usuallyattributed to the "jury lawyer. " Few things show more plainly thecentral unmovableness of his character than his immunity to the lures ofjury speaking. To use his power over an audience for his own enjoyment, for an interested purpose, for any purpose except to afford pleasure, or to see justice done, was for him constitutionally impossible. Sucha performance was beyond the reach of his will. In a way, his nature, mysterious as it was, was also the last word for simplicity, a terriblesimplicity. The exercise of his singular powers was irrevocablyconditioned on his own faith in the moral justification of what he wasdoing. He had no patience with any conception of the lawyer's functionthat did not make him the devoted instrument of justice. For the law asa game, for legal strategy, he felt contempt. Never under any conditionswould he attempt to get for a client more than he was convinced theclient in justice ought to have. The first step in securing his serviceswas always to persuade him that one's cause was just He sometimes threwup a case in open court because the course of it had revealed deceptionon the part of the client. At times he expressed his disdain of thelaw's mere commercialism in a stinging irony. 

"In a closely contested civil suit, " writes his associate, Ward HillLamon, "Lincoln proved an account for his client, who was, though he didnot know it at the time, a very slippery fellow. The opposing attorneythen proved a receipt clearly covering the entire cause of action. Bythe time he was through Lincoln was missing. The court sent for him tothe hotel. 'Tell the Judge, ' said he, 'that I can't come; my hands aredirty and I came over to clean them. '"(11)

"Discourage litigation, " he wrote. "Persuade your neighbors tocompromise whenever you can. Point out to them how the nominal winneris often a real loser, in fees, expenses, and waste of time. As apeacemaker, the lawyer has a Superior Opportunity of being a good man. There will still be business enough. "(12)

He held his moral and professional views with the same inflexibilitywith which he held his political views. Once he had settled upon aconviction or an opinion, nothing could move him. He was singularlystubborn, and yet, in all the minor matters of life, in all his merelypersonal concerns, in everything except his basal ideas, he was pliableto a degree. He could be talked into almost any concession of interest. He once told Herndon he thanked God that he had not been born a womanbecause he found it so hard to refuse any request made of him. Hisouter easiness, his lack of self-assertion, --as most people understandself-assertion, --persist in an amusing group of anecdotes of thecircuit. Though he was a favorite with the company at every tavern, those little demagogues, the tavern-keepers, quickly found out thathe could be safely put upon. In the minute but important favoritismof tavern life, in the choice of rooms, in the assignment of seats attable, in the distribution of delicacies, easy-going Lincoln was everthe first one to be ignored. "He never complained of the food, bed, orlodgings, " says a judge of the circuit, David Davis. "If every otherfellow grumbled at the bill of fare which greeted us at many of thedingy taverns, Lincoln said nothing. "(13)

But his complacency was of the surface only. His ideas were his own. He held to them with dogged tenacity. Herndon was merely the firstof several who discerned on close familiarity Lincoln's inwardinflexibility. "I was never conscious, " he writes, "of having made muchof an impression on Mr. Lincoln, nor do I believe I ever changed hisviews. I will go further and say that from the profound nature of hisconclusions and the labored method by which he arrived at them, no manis entitled to the credit of having either changed or greatly modifiedthem. "(14)

In these years of the early 'fifties, Herndon had much occasion to testhis partner's indifference to other men's views, his tenacious adherenceto his own. Herndon had become an Abolitionist. He labored to convertLincoln; but it was a lost labor. The Sphinx in a glimmer of sunshinewas as unassailable as the cheery, fable-loving, inflexible Lincoln. Theyounger man would work himself up, and, flushed with ardor, warn Lincolnagainst his apparent conservatism when the needs of the hour were sogreat; but his only answer would be, "Billy, you are too rampant andspontaneous. "(15)

Nothing could move him from his fixed conviction that the temper ofAbolitionism made it pernicious. He persisted in classifying it withslavery, --both of equal danger to free institutions. He took occasionto reassert this belief in the one important utterance of a politicalnature that commemorates this period. An oration on the death of HenryClay, contains the sentence: "Cast into life when slavery was alreadywidely spread and deeply sealed, he did not perceive, as I think no wiseman has perceived, how it could be at once eradicated without producinga greater evil even to the cause of human liberty itself. "(16)

It will be remembered that the Abolitionists were never stronglynational in sentiment. In certain respects they remind one of theextreme "internationals" of to-day. Their allegiance was not first ofall to Society, nor to governments, but to abstract ideas. For all suchattitudes in political science, Lincoln had an instinctive aversion. Hewas permeated always, by his sense of the community, of theobligation to work in terms of the community. Even the prejudices, theshortsightedness of the community were things to be considered, to bedealt with tenderly. Hence his unwillingness to force reforms upon acommunity not ripe to receive them. In one of his greatest speechesoccurs the dictum: "A universal feeling whether well or ill-founded, cannot be safely disregarded. "(17) Anticipating such ideas, he made in hisClay oration, a startling denunciation of both the extreme factions of

"Those (Abolitionists) who would shiver into fragments the union ofthese States, tear to tatters its now 'venerated Constitution, and evenburn the last copy of the Bible rather than slavery should continue asingle hour; together with all their more halting sympathizers, havereceived and are receiving their just execration; and the name andopinion and influence of Mr. Clay are fully and, as I trust, effectuallyand enduringly arrayed against them. But I would also if I could, arrayhis name, opinion and influence against the opposite extreme, againsta few, but increasing number of men who, for the sake of perpetuatingslavery, are beginning to assail and ridicule the white man's charter offreedom, the declaration that 'all men are created free and equal. '"(18)

In another passage he stated what he conceived to be the centralinspiration of Clay. Had he been thinking of himself, he could nothave foreshadowed more exactly the basal drift of all his future as astatesman:

"He loved his country partly because it was his own country, andmostly because it was a free country; and he burned with a zeal forits advancement, prosperity, and glory, because he saw in such theadvancement, prosperity and glory of human liberty, human right andhuman nature. "(19)

VIII. A RETURN TO POLITICS

Meanwhile, great things were coming forward at Washington. They centeredabout a remarkable man with whom Lincoln had hitherto formed a curiousparallel, by whom hitherto he had been completely overshadowed. StephenArnold Douglas was prosecuting attorney at Springfield when Lincolnbegan the practice of law. They were in the Legislature together. Bothcourted Mary Todd. Soon afterward, Douglas had distanced his rival. WhenLincoln went to the House of Representatives as a Whig, Douglas wentto the Senate as a Democrat. While Lincoln was failing at Washington, Douglas was building a national reputation. In the hubbub that followedthe Compromise of 1850, while Lincoln, abandoning politics, immersedhimself in the law, Douglas rendered a service to the country bydefeating a movement in Illinois to reject the Compromise. When theDemocratic National Convention assembled in 1852, he was sufficientlyprominent to obtain a considerable vote for the presidential nomination. 

The dramatic contrast of these two began with their physical appearance. Douglas was so small that he had been known to sit on a friend's kneewhile arguing politics. But his energy of mind, his indomitable forceof character, made up for his tiny proportions. "The Little Giant" was aterm of endearment applied to him by his followers. The mental contrastwas equally marked. Scarcely a quality in Lincoln that was not reversedin Douglas--deliberation, gradualness, introspection, tenacity, were thecharacteristics of Lincoln's mind. The mind of Douglas was first of allfacile. He was extraordinarily quick. In political Strategy hecould sense a new situation, wheel to meet it, throw overboardwell-established plans, devise new ones, all in the twinkle of an eye. People who could not understand such rapidity of judgment pronounced himinsincere, or at least, an opportunist. That he did not have the deepinflexibility of Lincoln may be assumed; that his convictions, suchas they were, did not have an ethical cast may be safely asserted. Nevertheless, he was a great force, an immense human power, that did notchange its course without good reason of its own sort. Far more thana mere opportunist. Politically, he summed up a change that was comingover the Democratic party. Janus-like, he had two faces, one for hisconstituents, one for his colleagues. To the voter he was still aJeffersonian, with whom the old phraseology of the party, liberty, equality, and fraternity, were still the catch-words. To his associatesin the Senate he was essentially an aristocrat, laboring to advanceinterests that were careless of the rights of man. A later age hasaccused the Senate of the United States of being the citadel of BigBusiness. Waiving the latter view, the historian may assert thatsomething suggestive of Big Business appeared in our politics in the'fifties, and was promptly made at home in the Senate. Perhaps itsfirst definite manifestation was a new activity on the part of the greatslave-holders. To invoke again the classifications of later pointsof view, certain of our historians to-day think they can see inthe 'fifties a virtual slavery trust, a combine of slave interestscontrolled by the magnates of the institution, and having as real, though informal, an existence as has the Steel Trust or the BeefTrust in our own time. This powerful interest allied itself with thecapitalists of the Northeast. In modern phraseology, they aimed to"finance" the slave interest from New York. And for a time the alliancesucceeded in doing this. The South went entirely upon credit. It boughtand borrowed heavily in the East New York furnished the money. 

Had there been nothing further to consider, the invasion of the Senateby Big Business in the 'fifties might not have taken place. But therewas something else. Slavery's system of agriculture was excessivelywasteful. To be highly profitable it required virgin soil, and thefinancial alliance demanded high profits. Early in the 'fifties, theproblem of Big Business was the acquisition of fresh soil for slavery. The problem entered politics with the question how could this be broughtabout without appearing to contradict democracy? The West also had itsincipient Big Business. It hinged upon railways. Now that Californiahad been acquired, with a steady stream of migration westward, withall America dazzled more or less by gold-mines and Pacific trade, atranscontinental railway was a Western dream. But what course should ittake, what favored regions were to become its immediate beneficiaries?Here was a chance for great jockeying among business interests inCongress, for slave-holders, money-lenders, railway promoters tomanipulate deals to their hearts' content. They had been doing so amida high complication of squabbling, while Douglas was traveling inEurope during 1853. When he returned late in the year, the unity of theDemocratic machine in Congress was endangered by these disputes. Douglasat once attacked the problem of party harmony. He threw himself intothe task with all his characteristic quickness, all his energy andresourcefulness. 

By this time the problem contained five distinct factors: The upperNortheast wanted a railroad starting at Chicago. The Central West wanteda road from St. Louis. The Southwest wanted a road from New Orleans, or at least, the frustration of the two Northern schemes. Big Businesswanted new soil for slavery. The Compromise of 1850 stood in the way ofthe extension of slave territory. 

If Douglas had had any serious convictions opposed to slavery the lastof the five factors would have brought him to a standstill. Fortunatelyfor him as a party strategist, he was indifferent. Then, too, he firmlybelieved that slavery could never thrive in the West because ofclimatic conditions. "Man might propose, but physical geography woulddispose. "(1) On both counts it seemed to him immaterial what concessionsbe made to slavery extension northwestward. Therefore, he dismissedthis consideration and applied himself to the harmonization of the fourbusiness factors involved. The result was a famous compromise inside aparty. His Kansas-Nebraska Bill created two new territories, one lyingwestward from Chicago; one lying westward from St. Louis. It alsorepealed the Missouri Compromise and gave the inhabitants of eachterritory the right to decide for themselves whether or not slaveryshould be permitted in their midst. That is to say, both to the railwaypromoter and the slavery financier, it extended equal governmentalprotection, but it promised favors to none, and left each faction torise or fall in the free competition of private enterprise. Why--was notthis, remembering Douglas's assumptions, a master-stroke?

He had expected, of course, denunciation by the Abolitionists. Heconsidered it immaterial. But he was not in the least prepared for whathappened. A storm burst. It was fiercest in his own State. "Traitor, ""Arnold, " "Judas, " were the pleasant epithets fired at him in abewildering fusillade. He could not understand it. Something other thanmere Abolitionism had been aroused by his great stroke. But what was it?Why did men who were not Abolitionists raise a hue and cry? Especially, why did many Democrats do so? Amazed, puzzled, but as always furiouslyvaliant, Douglas hurried home to join battle with his assailants. Heentered on a campaign of speech-making. On October 3, 1854, he spokeat Springfield. His enemies, looking about for the strongest popularspeaker they could find, chose Lincoln. The next day he replied toDouglas. 

The Kansas-Nebraska Bill had not affected any change in Lincoln'sthinking. His steady, consistent development as a political thinkerhad gone on chiefly in silence ever since his Protest seventeen yearsbefore. He was still intolerant of Abolitionism, still resolved to leaveslavery to die a natural death in the States where it was established. He defended the measure which most offended the Abolitionists, theFugitive Slave Law. He had appeared as counsel for a man who claimeda runaway slave as his property. (2) None the less, the Kansas-NebraskaBill had brought him to his feet, wheeled him back from law intopolitics, begun a new chapter. The springs of action in is case were thefactor which Douglas had overlooked, which in all his calculations hehad failed to take into account, which was destined to destroy him. 

Lincoln, no less than Douglas, had sensed the fact that money wasbecoming a power in American politics. He saw that money and slaverytended to become allies with the inevitable result of a shift of gravityin the American social system. "Humanity" had once been the Americanshibboleth; it was giving place to a new shibboleth-"prosperity. " Andthe people who were to control and administer prosperity were the rich. The rights of man were being superseded by the rights of wealth. Because of its place in this new coalition of non-democratic influences, slavery, to Lincoln's mind, was assuming a new role, "beginning, " as hehad said, in the Clay oration, "to assail and ridicule the white man'scharter of freedom, the declaration that 'all men are created free andequal. '"

That phrase, "the white man's charter of freedom, " had become Lincoln'sshibboleth. Various utterances and written fragments of the summer of1854, reveal the intensity of his preoccupation. 

"Equality in society beats inequality, whether the latter be of theBritish aristocratic sort or of the domestic slavery sort"(3)

"If A can prove, however conclusively, that he may of right enslave B, why may not B snatch the same argument and prove equally that he mayenslave A? You say A is white and B is black. It is color then; thelighter having the right to enslave the darker? Take care. By this ruleyou are to be slave to the first man you meet with a fairer skinthan your own. You do not mean color exactly? You mean the whites areintellectually the superiors of the blacks, and therefore have the rightto enslave them? Take care again. By this rule you are to be slave tothe first man you meet with an intellect superior to your own. But, yousay, it is a question of interest, and if you make it your interest, youhave the right to enslave another. Very well. And if he can make it hisinterest, he has the right to enslave you. "(4)

Speaking of slavery to a fellow lawyer, he said: "It is the mostglittering, ostentatious, and displaying property in the world; and now, if a young man goes courting, the only inquiry is how many negroes heor his lady love owns. The love of slave property is swallowing upevery other mercenary possession. Its ownership betokened not only thepossession of wealth, but indicated the gentleman of leisure who wasabove and scorned labor. "(5)

It was because of these views, because he saw slavery allying itselfwith the spread of plutocratic ideals, that Lincoln entered the battleto prevent its extension. He did so in his usual cool, determined way. 

Though his first reply to Douglas was not recorded, his second, madeat Peoria twelve days later, still exists. (6) It is a landmark in hiscareer. It sums up all his long, slow development in political science, lays the abiding foundation of everything he thought thereafter. Inthis great speech, the end of his novitiate, he rings the changes on thewhite man's charter of freedom. He argues that the extension of slaverytends to discredit republican institutions, and to disappoint "theLiberal party throughout the world. " The heart of his argument is:

"Whether slavery shall go into Nebraska or other new Territories is nota matter of exclusive concern to the people who may go there. Thewhole nation is interested that the best use shall be made of theseTerritories. We want them for homes for free white people. This they cannot be to any considerable extent, if slavery shall be planted withinthem. Slave States are places for poor white people to remove from, notremove to. New Free States are the places for poor people to go toand better their condition. For this use the nation needs theseTerritories. "

The speech was a masterpiece of simplicity, of lucidity. It showedthe great jury; lawyer at his best. Its temper was as admirable as itslogic; not a touch of anger nor of vituperation. 

"I have no prejudice against the Southern people, " said he. "They arejust what we would be in their situation. If slavery did not exist amongthem, they would not introduce it. If it did now exist among us, weshould not instantly give it up. This I believe of the masses North andSouth. 

"When Southern people tell us that they are no more responsible for theorigin of slavery than we are, I acknowledge the fact. When it is saidthat the institution exists and that it is very difficult to get rid ofin any satisfactory way, I can understand and appreciate the saying. Isurely will not blame them for not doing what I should not know how todo myself. If all earthly power were given me, I should not know what todo as to the existing institution. "

His instinctive aversion to fanaticism found expression in a plea forthe golden mean in politics. 

"Some men, mostly Whigs, who condemn the repeal of the MissouriCompromise, nevertheless hesitate to go for its restoration lest they bethrown in company with the Abolitionists. Will they allow me as an oldWhig, to tell them good-humoredly that I think this is very silly. Standwith anybody that stands right. Stand with him while he is rightand part with him when he goes wrong. Stand with the Abolitionistin restoring the Missouri Compromise, and stand against him when heattempts to repeal the Fugitive Slave Law. In the latter case you standwith the Southern dis-unionist. What of that? You are still right. In both cases you are right. In both cases you expose the dangerousextremes. In both you stand on middle ground and hold the ship level andsteady. In both you are national, and nothing less than national. This is the good old Whig ground. To desert such ground because ofany company is to be less than a Whig-less than a man-less than anAmerican. "

These two speeches against Douglas made an immense impressionByron-like, Lincoln waked up and found himself famous. Thereupon, hisambition revived. A Senator was to be chosen that autumn. Why might notthis be the opportunity to retrieve his failure in Congress? Shortlyafter the Peoria speech, he was sending out notes like this to prominentpoliticians:

"Dear Sir: You used to express a good deal of partiality for me, and ifyou are still so, now is the time. Some friends here are really for mefor the United States Senate, and I should be very grateful if you couldmake a mark for me among your members (of the Legislature). "(7)

When the Legislature assembled, it was found to comprise four groups:the out-and-out Democrats who would stand by Douglas through thick andthin, and vote only for his nominee; the bolting Democrats who would notvote for a Douglas man, but whose party rancor was so great that theywould throw their votes away rather than give them to a Whig; suchenemies of Douglas as were willing to vote for a Whig; the remainder. 

The Democrats supported Governor Matteson; the candidate of the secondgroup was Lyman Trumbull; the Whigs supported Lincoln. After nineexciting ballots, Matteson had forty-seven votes, Trumbull thirty-five, Lincoln fifteen. As the bolting Democrats were beyond compromise, Lincoln determined to sacrifice himself in order to defeat Matteson. Though the fifteen protested against deserting him, he required them todo so. On the tenth ballot, they transferred their votes to Trumbull andhe was elected. (8)

Douglas had met his first important defeat. His policy had beenrepudiated in his own State. And it was Lincoln who had formulated theargument against him, who had held the balance of power, and had turnedthe scale. 

IX. THE LITERARY STATESMAN

Lincoln had found at last a mode and an opportunity for concentratingall his powers in a way that could have results. He had discoveredhimself as a man of letters. The great speeches of 1854 were notdifferent in a way from the previous speeches that were without results. And yet they were wholly different. Just as Lincoln's version of an oldtale made of that tale a new thing, so Lincoln's version of an argumentmade of it a different thing from other men's versions. The oratory of1854 was not state-craft in any ordinary sense. It was art Lincoln theartist, who had slowly developed a great literary faculty, had chancedafter so many rebuffs on good fortune. His cause stood in urgent needof just what he could give. It was one of those moments when a newpolitical force, having not as yet any opening for action, findssalvation in the phrase-maker, in the literary artist who can embody itin words. 

During the next five years and more, Lincoln was the recognized offsetto Douglas. His fame spread from Illinois in both directions. He wascalled to Iowa and to Ohio as the advocate of all advocates who couldundo the effect of Douglas. His fame traveled eastward. The culminationof the period of literary leadership was his famous speech at CooperUnion in February, 1860. 

It was inevitable that he should go along with the antislavery coalitionwhich adopted the name of the Republican party. But his naturaldeliberation kept him from being one of its founders. An attempt ofits founders to appropriate him after the triumph at Springfield, inOctober, 1854, met with a rebuff. (1) Nearly a year and a half went bybefore he affiliated himself with the new party. But once having madeup his mind, he went forward wholeheartedly. At the State Convention ofIllinois Republicans in 1856 he made a speech that has not beenrecorded but which is a tradition for moving oratory. That same year aconsiderable number of votes were cast for Lincoln for Vice-President inthe Republican National Convention. 

But all these were mere details. The great event of the years between1854 and 1860 was his contest with Douglas. It was a battle of wits, a great literary duel. Fortunately for Lincoln, his part was playedaltogether on his own soil, under conditions in which he was entirely athis ease, where nothing conspired with his enemy to embarrass him. 

Douglas had a far more difficult task. Unforeseen complications rapidlyforced him to change his policy, to meet desertion and betrayal in hisown ranks. These were terrible years when fierce events followedone another in quick succession--the rush of both slave-holders andabolitionists into Kansas; the cruel war along the Wakarusa River; thesack of Lawrence by the pro-slavery party; the massacre by John Brownat Pottawatomie; the diatribes of Sumner in the Senate; the assault onSumner by Brooks. In the midst of this carnival of ferocity came theDred Scott decision, cutting under the Kansas-Nebraska Bill, denying tothe people of a Territory the right to legislate on slavery, and givingto all slave-holders the right to settle with their slaves anywhere theypleased outside a Free State. This famous decision repudiated Douglas'spolicy of leaving all such questions to local autonomy and to privateenterprise. For a time Douglas made no move to save his policy. But whenPresident Buchanan decided to throw the influence of the Administrationon the side of the pro-slavery party in Kansas, Douglas was up inarms. When it was proposed to admit Kansas with a constitution favoringslavery, but which had not received the votes of a majority of theinhabitants, Douglas voted with the Republicans to defeat admission. Whereupon the Democratic party machine and the Administration turnedupon him without mercy. He stood alone in a circle of enemies. At noother time did he show so many of the qualities of a great leader. Battling with Lincoln in the popular forum on the one hand, he wasmeeting daily on the other assaults by a crowd of brilliant opponents inCongress. At the same time he was playing a consummate game of politicalstrategy, struggling against immense odds to recover his hold onIllinois. The crisis would come in 1858 when he would have to go beforethe Legislature for reelection. He knew well enough who his opponentwould be. At every turn there fell across his path the shadow of a coolsinister figure, his relentless enemy. It was Lincoln. On the strugglewith Lincoln his whole battle turned. 

Abandoned by his former allies, his one hope was the retention of hisconstituency. To discredit Lincoln, to twist and discredit all hisarguments, was for Douglas a matter of life and death. He struckfrequently with great force, but sometimes with more fury than wisdom. Many a time the unruffled coolness of Lincoln brought to nothing whatwas meant for a deadly thrust. Douglas took counsel of despair and triedto show that Lincoln was preaching the amalgamation of the white andblack races. "I protest, " Lincoln replied, "against the counterfeitlogic which says that because I do not want a black woman for a slave, Imust necessarily want her for a wife. I need not have her for either. I can just leave her alone. In some respects she certainly is not myequal; but in her natural right to eat the bread she earns with herown hands without asking leave of any one else, she is my equal andthe equal of all others. "(2) Any false move made by Douglas, anyrash assertion, was sure to be seized upon by that watchful enemy inIllinois. In attempting to defend himself on two fronts at once, defyingboth the Republicans and the Democratic machine, Douglas made hisreckless declaration that all he wanted was a fair vote by the peopleof Kansas; that for himself he did not care how they settled the matter, whether slavery was voted up or voted down. With relentless skill, Lincoln developed the implications of this admission, drawing forthfrom its confessed indifference to the existence of slavery, a chainof conclusions that extended link by link to a belief in reopeningthe African slave trade. This was done in his speech accepting theRepublican nomination for the Senate. In the same speech he restated hisgeneral position in half a dozen sentences that became at once a classicstatement for the whole Republican party: "A house divided againstitself can not stand. I believe this government can not endurepermanently half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to bedissolved. I do not expect the house to fall, but I do expect it willcease to be divided. It will become all one thing or all the other. Either the opponents of slavery will arrest the further spread of it andplace it where the public mind shall rest in the belief that it is inthe course of ultimate extinction; or its advocates will push it forwardtill it shall become alike lawful in all the States, old as well as new, North as well as South. "(3)

The great duel was rapidly approaching its climax. What was in realityno more than the last round has appropriated a label that ought to havea wider meaning and is known as the Lincoln-Douglas Debates. The twocandidates made a joint tour of the State, debating their policies inpublic at various places during the summer and autumn of 1858. 

Properly considered, these famous speeches closed Lincoln's life asan orator. The Cooper Union speech was an isolated aftermath in alienconditions, a set performance not quite in his true vein. His briefaddresses of the later years were incidental; they had no combativeelement. Never again was he to attempt to sway an audience for animmediate stake through the use of the spoken word. "A brief descriptionof Mr. Lincoln's appearance on the stump and of his manner whenspeaking, " as Herndon aptly remarks, "may not be without interest. Whenstanding erect, he was six feet four inches high. He was lean in fleshand ungainly in figure. Aside from his sad, pained look, due to habitualmelancholy, his face had no characteristic or fixed expression. He wasthin through the chest and hence slightly stoop-shouldered. . . . Atfirst he was very awkward and it seemed a real labor to adjust himselfto his surroundings. He struggled for a time under a feeling of apparentdiffidence and sensitiveness, and these only added to his awkwardness. . . . When he began speaking his voice was shrill, piping and unpleasant. His manner, his attitude, his dark yellow face, wrinkled and dry, hisoddity of pose, his diffident movements; everything seemed to beagainst him, but only for a short time. . . . As he proceeded, he becamesomewhat more animated. . . . He did not gesticulate as much with hishands as with his head. He used the latter frequently, throwing it withhim, this way and that. . . . He never sawed the air nor rent space intotatters and rags, as some orators do. He never acted for stage effect. He was cool, considerate, reflective--in time, self-possessed andself-reliant. . . . As he moved along in his speech he became freer andless uneasy in his movements; to that extent he was graceful. He had aperfect naturalness, a strong individuality, and to that extent he wasdignified. . . . He spoke with effectiveness--and to move the judgmentas well as the emotion of men. There was a world of meaning and emphasisin the long, bony finger of the right hand as he dotted the ideas on theminds of his hearers. . . . He always stood squarely on his feet. . . . He neither touched nor leaned on anything for support. He never ranted, never walked backward and forward on the platform. . . . As he proceededwith his speech, the exercise of his vocal organs altered somewhat thepitch of his voice. It lost in a measure its former acute and shrillingpitch and mellowed into a more harmonious and pleasant sound. His formexpanded, and notwithstanding the sunken breast, he rose up a splendidand imposing figure. . . . His little gray eyes flashed in a face aglowwith the fire of his profound thoughts; and his uneasy movementsand diffident manner sunk themselves beneath the wave of righteousindignation that came sweeping over him. "(4)

A wonderful dramatic contrast were these two men, each in his way somasterful, as they appeared in the famous debates. By good fortune wehave a portrait of Douglas the orator, from the pen of Mrs. Stowe, who had observed him with reluctant admiration from the gallery ofthe Senate. "This Douglas is the very ideal of vitality. Short, broad, thick-set, every inch of him has its own alertness and motion. He hasa good head, thick black hair, heavy black brows, and a keen face. Hisfigure would be an unfortunate one were it not for the animation thatconstantly pervades it. As it is it rather gives poignancy to hispeculiar appearance; he has a small handsome hand, moreover, anda graceful as well as forcible mode of using it. . . . He has tworequisites of a debater, a melodious voice and clear, sharply definedenunciation. His forte in debating is his power of mystifying thepoint. With the most offhand assured airs in the world, and a certainappearance of honest superiority, like one who has a regard for you andwishes to set you right on one or two little matters, he proceeds toset up some point which is not that in question, but only a familyconnection of it, and this point he attacks with the very best of logicand language; he charges upon it, horse and foot, runs it down, tramplesit in the dust, and then turns upon you with 'See, there is yourargument. Did I not tell you so? You see it is all stuff. ' And if youhave allowed yourself to be so dazzled by his quickness as to forgetthat the routed point is not, after all, the one in question, yousuppose all is over with it. Moreover, he contrives to mingle up so manystinging allusions, so many piquant personalities, that by the timehe has done his mystification, a dozen others are ready and burning tospring on their feet to repel some direct or indirect attack all equallywide of the point. "

The mode of travel of the two contestants heightened the contrast. George B. McClellan, a young engineer officer who had recently resignedfrom the army and was now general superintendent of the Illinois CentralRailroad, gave Douglas his private car and a special train. Lincolntraveled any way he could-in ordinary passenger trains, or even in thecaboose of a freight train. A curious symbolization of Lincoln's beliefthat the real conflict was between the plain people and organized money!

The debates did not develop new ideas. It was a literary duel, eachleader aiming to restate himself in the most telling, popular way. Foronce that superficial definition of art applied: "What oft was thoughtbut ne'er so well expressed. " Nevertheless the debates contained anincident that helped to make history. Though Douglas was at war with theAdministration, it was not certain that the quarrel might not be madeup. There was no other leader who would be so formidable at the head ofa reunited Democratic party. Lincoln pondered the question, how couldthe rift between Douglas and the Democratic machine be made irrevocable?And now a new phase of Lincoln appeared. It was the political strategistHe saw that if he would disregard his own chance of election-as he haddone from a simpler motive four years before--he could drive Douglasinto a dilemma from which there was no real escape. He confided hispurpose to his friends; they urged him not to do it. But he had made uphis mind as he generally did, without consultation, in the silence ofhis own thoughts, and once having made it up, he was inflexible. 

At Freeport, Lincoln made the move which probably lost him theSenatorship. He asked a question which if Douglas answered it one waywould enable him to recover the favor of Illinois but would lose himforever the favor of the slave-holders; but which, if he answered itanother way might enable him to make his peace at Washington but wouldcertainly lose him Illinois. The question was: "Can the people of aUnited States Territory in any lawful way, against the wish of anycitizen of the United States, exclude slavery from its limits prior tothe formation of a State Constitution?"(5) In other words, is the DredScott decision good law? Is it true that a slave-holder can take hisslaves into Kansas if the people of Kansas want to keep him out?

Douglas saw the trap. With his instantaneous facility he tried to cloudthe issue and extricate himself through evasion in the very manner Mrs. Stowe has described. While dodging a denial of the court's authority, he insisted that his doctrine of local autonomy was still secure becausethrough police regulation the local legislature could foster or strangleslavery, just as they pleased, no matter "what way the Supreme Court mayhereafter decide as to the abstract question whether slavery may or maynot go into a Territory under the Constitution. "

As Lincoln's friends had foreseen, this matchless performance ofcarrying water on both shoulders caught the popular fancy; Douglas wasreelected to the Senate. As Lincoln had foreseen, it killed him as aDemocratic leader; it prevented the reunion of the Democratic party. Theresult appeared in 1860 when the Republicans, though still a minorityparty, carried the day because of the bitter divisions among theDemocrats. That was what Lincoln foresaw when he said to his fearfulfriends while they argued in vain to prevent his asking the question atFree-port. "I am killing larger game; the great battle of 1860 is wortha thousand of this senatorial race. "(6)

X. THE DARK HORSE

One of the most curious things in Lincoln is the way his confidencein himself came and went. He had none of Douglas's unwaveringself-reliance. Before the end, to be sure, he attained a type ofself-reliance, higher and more imperturbable. But this was not thefruit of a steadfast unfolding. Rather, he was like a tree with itsalternating periods of growth and pause, now richly in leaf, nowdormant. Equally applicable is the other familiar image of thesuccessive waves. 

The clue seems to have been, in part at least, a matter of vitality. Just as Douglas emanated vitality--so much so that his aura filled thewhole Senate chamber and forced an unwilling response in the gifted buthostile woman who watched him from the gallery--Lincoln, conversely, made no such overpowering impression. His observers, however much theyhave to say about his humor, his seasons of Shakespearian mirth, neverforget their impression that at heart he is sad. His fondness for poetryin the minor key has become a byword, especially the line "Oh, whyshould the spirit of mortal be proud. "

It is impossible to discover any law governing the succession of hislapses in self-reliance. But they may be related very plausibly to hissense of failure or at least to his sense of futility. He was one ofthose intensely sensitive natures to whom the futilities of this worldare its most discouraging feature. Whenever such ideas were brought hometo him his energy flagged; his vitality, never high, sank. He was proneto turn away from the outward life to lose himself in the inner. Allthis is part of the phenomena which Herndon perceived more clearly thanhe comprehended it, which led him to call Lincoln a fatalist. 

A humbler but perhaps more accurate explanation is the reminder that hewas son to Thomas the unstable. What happened in Lincoln's mind whenhe returned defeated from Washington, that ghost-like rising of theimpulses of old Thomas, recurred more than once thereafter. In factthere is a period well-defined, a span of thirteen years terminatingsuddenly on a day in 1862, during which the ghost of old Thomas is athing to be reckoned with in his son's life. It came and went, most ofthe time fortunately far on the horizon. But now and then it drew near. Always it was lurking somewhere, waiting to seize upon him in thosemoments when his vitality sank, when his energies were in the ebb, whenhis thoughts were possessed by a sense of futility. 

The year 1859 was one of his ebb tides. In the previous year the risingtide, which had mounted high during his success on the circuit, reachedits crest The memory of his failure at Washington was effaced. AtFreeport he was a more powerful genius, a more dominant personality, than he had ever been. Gradually, in the months following, the high wavesubsided. During 1859 he gave most of his attention to his practice. Though political speech-making continued, and though he did not impairhis reputation, he did nothing of a remarkable sort. The one literaryfragment of any value is a letter to a Boston committee that had invitedhim to attend a "festival" in Boston on Jefferson's birthday. Heavowed himself a thoroughgoing disciple of Jefferson and pronounced theprinciples of Jefferson "the definitions and axioms of free society. "Without conditions he identified his own cause with the cause ofJefferson, "the man who in the concrete pressure of a struggle fornational independence by a single people, had the coolness, forecast andcapacity to introduce into a merely revolutionary document, an abstracttruth, applicable to all men and all times, and so to embalm itthere that today and in all coming days, it shall be a rebuke anda stumbling-block to the very harbingers of reappearing tyranny andoppression. "(1)

While the Boston committee were turning their eyes toward this great newphrase-maker of the West, several politicians in Illinois had formed abold resolve. They would try to make him President. The movement had twosources--the personal loyalty of his devoted friends of the circuit, theshrewdness of the political managers who saw that his duel with Douglashad made him a national figure. As one of them said to him, "Douglasbeing so widely known, you are getting a national reputation throughhim. " Lincoln replied that he did not lack the ambition but lackedaltogether the confidence in the possibility of success. (2)

This was his attitude during most of 1859. The glow, the enthusiasm, ofthe previous year was gone. "I must in candor say that I do not thinkmyself fit for the Presidency, " he wrote to a newspaper editor in April. He used the same words to another correspondent in July. As late asNovember first, he wrote, "For my single self, I have enlisted for thepermanent success of the Republican cause, and for this object I shalllabor faithfully in the ranks, unless, as I think not probable, thejudgment of the party shall assign me a different position. "(3)

Meanwhile, both groups of supporters had labored unceasingly, regardlessof his approval. In his personal following, the companionableness oftwenty years had deepened into an almost romantic loyalty. The leadersof this enthusiastic attachment, most of them lawyers, had no superiorsfor influence in Illinois. The man who had such a following was a powerin politics whether he would or no. This the mere politicians saw. Theyalso saw that the next Republican nomination would rest on a delicatecalculation of probabilities. There were other Republicans moreconspicuous than Lincoln--Seward in New York, Sumner in Massachusetts, Chase in Ohio--but all these had inveterate enemies. Despite theirimportance would it be safe to nominate them? Would not the party becompelled to take some relatively minor figure, some essentially newman? In a word, what we know as a "dark horse. " Believing that thiswould happen, they built hopefully on their faith in Lincoln. 

Toward the end of the year he was at last persuaded to take hiscandidacy seriously. The local campaign for his nomination had gone sofar that a failure to go further would have the look of being discardedas the local Republican leader. This argument decided him. Before theyear's end he had agreed to become a candidate before the convention. Inhis own words, "I am not in a position where it would hurt much for meto not be nominated on the national ticket; but I am where it would hurtsome for me to not get the Illinois delegates. "(4)

It was shortly after this momentous decision that he went to New York byinvitation and made his most celebrated, though not in any respect hisgreatest, oration. (5) A large audience filled Cooper Union, February27, 1860. William Cullen Bryant presided. David Dudley Field escortedLincoln to the platform. Horace Greeley was in the audience. Again, the performance was purely literary. No formulation of new policies, no appeal for any new departure. It was a masterly restatement of hisposition; of the essence of the debates with Douglas. It cleansed theRepublican platform of all accidental accretions, as if a ship's hullwere being scraped of barnacles preparatory to a voyage; it gave theunderlying issues such inflexible definition that they could not bejuggled with. Again he showed a power of lucid statement not possessedby any of his rivals. An incident of the speech was his unsparingcondemnation of John Brown whose raid and death were on every tongue. "You charge that we stir up insurrections among your slaves, " said he, apostrophizing the slave-holders. "We deny it, and what is your proof?'Harper's Ferry; John Brown!' John Brown was no Republican; and youhave failed to implicate a single Republican in this Harper's Ferryenterprise. . . 

"John Brown's effort was peculiar. It was not a slave insurrection. Itwas an attempt by white men to get up a revolt among slaves, in whichthe slaves refused to participate. In fact, it was so absurd that theslaves with all their ignorance saw plainly enough that it couldnot succeed. That affair in its philosophy corresponds with the manyattempts related in history at the assassination of kings and emperors. An enthusiast broods over the oppression of the people until he fancieshimself commissioned by heaven to liberate them. He ventures the attemptwhich ends in little else than his own execution. Orsini's attempt onLouis Napoleon, and John Brown's attempt at Harper's Ferry were, intheir philosophy, precisely the same. The eagerness to cast blame onold England in the one case and on New England in the other, does notdisprove the sameness of the two things. "

The Cooper Union speech received extravagant praise from all theRepublican newspapers. Lincoln's ardent partisans assert that it tookNew York "by storm. " Rather too violent a way of putting it! But therecan be no doubt that the speech made a deep impression. Thereafter, manyof the Eastern managers were willing to consider Lincoln as a candidate, should factional jealousies prove uncompromising. Any port in a storm, you know. Obviously, there could be ports far more dangerous than this"favorite son" of Illinois. 

Many national conventions in the United States have decided upon acompromise candidate, "a dark horse, " through just such reasoning. The most noted instance is the Republican Convention of 1860. Whenit assembled at Chicago in June, the most imposing candidate was thebrilliant leader of the New York Republicans, Seward. But no man in thecountry had more bitter enemies. Horace Greeley whose paper The Tribunewas by far the most influential Republican organ, went to Chicagoobsessed by one purpose: because of irreconcilable personal quarrelshe would have revenge upon Seward. Others who did not hate Seward wereafraid of what Greeley symbolized. And all of them knew that whateverelse happened, the West must be secured. 

The Lincoln managers played upon the Eastern jealousies and the Easternfears with great skill. There was little sleep among the delegates thenight previous to the balloting. At just the right moment, the Lincolnmanagers, though their chief had forbidden them to do so, offeredpromises with regard to Cabinet appointments. (6) And they succeeded inpacking the galleries of the Convention Hall with a perfectly organizedclaque-"rooters, " the modern American would say. 

The result on the third ballot was a rush to Lincoln of all the enemiesof Seward, and Lincoln's nomination amid a roaring frenzy of applause. 

XI. SECESSION

After twenty-three years of successive defeats, Lincoln, almostfortuitously, was at the center of the political maelstrom. The clueto what follows is in the way he had developed during that longdiscouraging apprenticeship to greatness. Mentally, he had always beenin isolation. Socially, he had lived in a near horizon. The real tragedyof his failure at Washington was in the closing against him of theopportunity to know his country as a whole. Had it been Lincoln insteadof Douglas to whom destiny had given a residence at Washington duringthe 'fifties, it is conceivable that things might have been differentin the 'sixties. On the other hand, America would have lost its greatestexample of the artist in politics. 

And without that artist, without his extraordinary literary gift, hisparty might not have consolidated in 1860. A very curious party it was. It had sprung to life as a denial, as a device for halting Douglas. Lincoln's doctrine of the golden mean, became for once a politicalpower. Men of the most diverse views on other issues accepted in theirneed the axiom: "Stand with anybody so long as he stands right. " Andstanding right, for that moment in the minds of them all, meant keepingslavery and the money power from devouring the territories. 

The artist of the movement expressed them all in his declaration thatthe nation needed the Territories to give home and opportunity to freewhite people. Even the Abolitionists, who hitherto had refused to makecommon cause with any other faction, entered the negative coalitionof the new party. So did Whigs, and anti-slavery Democrats, as well asother factions then obscure which we should now label Socialists andLabormen. 

However, this coalition, which in origin was purely negative, revealed, the moment it coalesced, two positive features. To the man of the nearhorizon in 1860 neither of these features seemed of first importance. Tothe man outside that horizon, seeing them in perspective as relatedto the sum total of American life, they had a significance he did notentirely appreciate. 

The first of these was the temper of the Abolitionists. Lincoln ignoredit. He was content with his ringing assertion of the golden mean. Butthere spoke the man of letters rather than the statesman. Of temperin politics as an abstract idea, he had been keenly conscious from thefirst; but his lack of familiarity with political organizations kept himfrom assigning full value to the temper of any one factor as affectingthe joint temper of the whole group. It was appointed for him to learnthis in a supremely hard way and to apply the lesson with wonderfulaudacity. But in 1860 that stern experience still slept in the future. He had no suspicion as yet that he might find it difficult to carry outhis own promise to stand with the Abolitionists in excluding slaveryfrom the Territories, and to stand against them in enforcing theFugitive Slave Law. He did not yet see why any one should doubt thevalidity of this promise; why any one should be afraid to go alongwith him, afraid that the temper of one element would infect the wholecoalition. 

But this fear that Lincoln did not allow for, possessed already a greatmany minds. Thousands of Southerners, of the sort whom Lincoln creditedwith good intentions about slavery, feared the Abolitionists Not becausethe Abolitionists wanted to destroy slavery, but because they wantedto do so fiercely, cruelly. Like Lincoln, these Southerners who wereliberals in thought and moderates in action, did not know what to doabout slavery. Like Lincoln, they had but one fixed idea with regard toit, --slavery must not be terminated violently. Lincoln, despite hisnear horizon, sensed them correctly as not being at one with the greatplutocrats who wished to exploit slavery. But when the Abolitionistpoured out the same fury of vituperation on every sort of slave-holder;when he promised his soul that it should yet have the joy of exulting inthe ruin of all such, the moderate Southerners became as flint. When theAbolitionists proclaimed their affiliation with the new party, thefirst step was taken toward a general Southern coalition to stop theRepublican advance. 

There was another positive element blended into the negative coalition. In 1857, the Republicans overruling the traditions of those members whohad once been Democrats, set their faces toward protection. To mostof the Northerners the fatefulness of the step was not obvious. Twentyyears had passed since a serious tariff controversy had shaken theNorth. Financial difficulties in the 'fifties were more prevalent in theNorth than in the South. Business was in a quandary. Labor was demandingbetter opportunities. Protection as a solution, or at least as apalliative, seemed to the mass of the Republican coalition, even to theformer Democrats for all their free trade traditions, not outrageous. To the Southerners it was an alarm bell. The Southern world wasagricultural; its staple was cotton; the bulk of its market was inEngland. Ever since 1828, the Southern mind had been constantly on guardwith regard to tariff, unceasingly fearful that protection would beimposed on it by Northern and Western votes. To have to sell its cottonin England at free trade values, but at the same time to have to buy itscommodities at protected values fixed by Northern manufacturers--whatdid that mean but the despotism of one section over another? Whenthe Republicans took up protection as part of their creed, a generalSouthern coalition was rendered almost inevitable. 

This, Lincoln {Missing text}. Again it is to be accounted for in partby his near horizon. Had he lived at Washington, had he met, frequently, Southern men; had he passed those crucial years of the 'fifties indebates with political leaders rather than in story-telling tournamentson the circuit; perhaps all this would have been otherwise. But one cannot be quite sure. Finance never appealed to him. A wide application maybe given to Herndon's remark that "he had no money sense. " All the restof the Republican doctrine finds its best statement in Lincoln. On theone subject of its economic policy he is silent. Apparently it is to beclassified with the routine side of the law. To neither was he ever ableto give more than a perfunctory attention. As an artist in politics hehad the defect of his qualities. 

What his qualities showed him were two things: the alliance of theplutocratic slave power with the plutocratic money power, and theessential rightness in impulse of the bulk of the Southern people. Hencehis conclusion which became his party's conclusion: that, in the South, a political-financial ring was dominating a leaderless people, Thiswas not the truth. Lincoln's defects in 1860 limited his vision. Nevertheless, to the solitary distant thinker, shut in by the nearhorizon of political Springfield, there was every excuse for the error. The palpable evidence all confirmed it. What might have contradicted itwas a cloud of witnesses, floating, incidental, casual, tacit. Justwhat a nature like Lincoln's, if only he could have met them, would haveperceived and comprehended; what a nature like Douglas's, no matterhow plainly they were presented to him, could neither perceive norcomprehend. It was the irony of fate that an opportunity to fathomhis time was squandered upon the unseeing Douglas, while to the seeingLincoln it was denied. In a word, the Southern reaction against theRepublicans, like the Republican movement itself, had both a positiveand a negative side. It was the positive side that could be seen andjudged at long range. And this was what Lincoln saw, which appeared tohim to have created the dominant issue in 1860. 

The negative side of the Southern movement he did not see. He was toofar away to make out the details of the picture. Though he may haveknown from the census of 1850 that only one-third of the Southern whiteswere members of slave-holding families, he could scarcely have knownthat only a small minority of the Southern families owned as manyas five slaves; that those who had fortunes in slaves were a merehandful--just as today those who have fortunes in steel or beef are merehandfuls. But still less did he know how entirely this vast majoritywhich had so little, if any, interest in slavery, had grown to fear anddistrust the North. They, like him, were suffering from a near horizon. They, too, were applying the principle "Stand with anybody so long ashe stands right" But for them, standing right meant preventing a violentrevolution in Southern life. Indifferent as they were to slavery, theywere willing to go along with the "slave-barons" in the attempt toconsolidate the South in a movement of denial--a denial of the right ofthe North, either through Abolitionism or through tariff, to dominatethe South. 

If only Lincoln with his subtle mind could have come into touch withthe negative side of the Southern agitation! It was the other side, thepositive side, that was vocal. With immense shrewdness the profiteers ofslavery saw and developed their opportunity. They organized the South. They preached on all occasions, in all connections, the need of allSoutherners to stand together, no matter how great their disagreements, in order to prevent the impoverishment of the South by hostileeconomic legislation. During the late 'fifties their propaganda for anall-Southern policy, made slow but constant headway. But even in 1859these ideas were still far from controlling the South. 

And then came John Brown. The dread of slave insurrection was laid deepin Southern recollection. Thirty years before, the Nat Turner Rebellionhad filled a portion of Virginia with burned plantation houses amidwhose ruins lay the dead bodies of white women. A little earlier, anegro conspiracy at Charleston planned the murder of white men and theparceling out of white women among the conspirators. And John Brown hadcome into Virginia at the head of a band of strangers calling upon theslaves to rise and arm. 

Here was a supreme opportunity. The positive Southern force, the slaveprofiteers, seized at once the attitude of champions of the South. Itwas easy enough to enlist the negative force in a shocked and outrageddenunciation of everything Northern. And the Northern extremists did allthat was in their power to add fuel to the flame. Emerson called Brown"this new saint who had made the gallows glorious as the cross. " TheSoutherners, hearing that, thought of the conspiracy to parcel out thewhite women of Charleston. Early in 1860 it seemed as if the whole Southhad but one idea-to part company with the North. 

No wonder Lincoln threw all his influence into the scale to discreditthe memory of Brown. No wonder the Republicans in their platformcarefully repudiated him. They could not undo the impression made on theSouthern mind by two facts: the men who lauded Brown as a new saint werevoting the Republican ticket; the Republicans had committed themselvesto the anti-Southern policy of protection. 

And yet, in spite of all the labors of pro-slavery extremists, themovement for a breach with the North lost ground during 1860. When theelection came, the vote for President revealed a singular and unforeseensituation. Four candidates were in the field. The Democrats, split intotwo by the issue of slavery expansion, formed two parties. Theslave profiteers secured the nomination by one faction of John C. Breckinridge. The moderate Democrats who would neither fight nor favorslavery, nominated Douglas. The most peculiar group was the fourth. Theyincluded all those who would not join the Republicans for fear of thetemper of the Abolition-members, but who were not promoters of slavery, and who distrusted Douglas. They had no program but to restore thecondition of things that existed before the Nebraska Bill. About fourmillion five hundred thousand votes were cast. Lincoln had less thantwo million, and all but about twenty-four thousand of these were inthe Free States. However, the disposition of Lincoln's vote gave him theelectoral college. He was chosen President by the votes of a minority ofthe nation. But there was another minority vote which as events turnedout, proved equally significant. Breckinridge, the symbol of the slaveprofiteers, and of all those whom they had persuaded to follow them, had not been able to carry the popular vote of the South. They weredefinitely in the minority in their own section. The majority of theSoutherners had so far reacted from the wild alarms of the beginningof the year that they refused to go along with the candidates of theextremists. They were for giving the Union another trial. The Southitself had repudiated the slave profiteers. 

This was the immensely significant fact of November, 1860. It made agreat impression on the whole country. For the moment it made the fiercetalk of the Southern extremists inconsequential. Buoyant Northerners, such as Seward, felt that the crisis was over; that the South had votedfor a reconciliation; that only tact was needed to make everybody happy. When, a few weeks after the election, Seward said that all would bemerry again inside of ninety days, his illusion had for its foundationthe Southern rejection of the slave profiteers. 

Unfortunately, Seward did not understand the precise significance ofthe thought of the moderate South. He did not understand that while theSouth had voted to send Breckinridge and his sort about their business, it was still deeply alarmed, deeply fearful that after all it might atany minute be forced to call them back, to make common cause with themagainst what it regarded as an alien and destructive political power, the Republicans. This was the Southern reservation, the unspokencondition of the vote which Seward--and for that matter, Lincoln, also, --failed to comprehend. Because of these cross-purposes, becausethe Southern alarm was based on another thing than the standing orfalling of slavery, the situation called for much more than tact, forprofound psychological statesmanship. 

And now emerges out of the complexities of the Southern situation apowerful personality whose ideas and point of view Lincoln did notunderstand. Robert Barnwell Rhett had once been a man of might inpolitics. Twice he had very nearly rent the Union asunder. In 1844, again in 1851, he had come to the very edge of persuading South Carolinato secede. In each case he sought to organize the general discontent ofthe South, --its dread of a tariff, and of Northern domination. After hissecond failure, his haughty nature took offense at fortune. He resignedhis seat in the Senate and withdrew to private life. But he was toolarge and too bold a character to attain obscurity. Nor would hisrestless genius permit him to rust in ease. During the troubled'fifties, he watched from a distance, but with ever increasing interest, that negative Southern force which he, in the midst of it, comprehended, while it drifted under the wing of the extremists. As he did so, the oldarguments, the old ambitions, the old hopes revived. In 1851 his cryto the South was to assert itself as a Separate nation--not for any onereason, but for many reasons--and to lead its own life apart fromthe North. It was an age of brilliant though ill-fated revolutionarymovements in Europe. Kossuth and the gallant Hungarian attempt atindependence had captivated the American imagination. Rhett dreamed ofseeing the South do what Hungary had failed to do. He thought of theproblem as a medieval knight would have thought, in terms of individualprowess, with the modern factors, economics and all their sort, lefton one side. "Smaller nations (than South Carolina), " he said in 1851, "have striven for freedom against greater odds. "

In 1860 he had concluded that his third chance had come. He would tryonce more to bring about secession. To split the Union, he would playinto the hands of the slave-barons. He would aim to combine with theirmovement the negative Southern movement and use the resulting coalitionto crown with success his third attempt. Issuing from his seclusion, hebecame at once the overshadowing figure in South Carolina. Around himall the elements of revolution crystallized. He was sixty years old;seasoned and uncompromising in the pursuit of his one ideal, theindependence of the South. His arguments were the same which he had usedin 1844, in 1851: the North would impoverish the South; it threatensto impose a crushing tribute in the shape of protection; it seeks todestroy slavery; it aims to bring about economic collapse; in the wreckthus produced, everything that is beautiful, charming, distinctive inSouthern life will be lost; let us fight! With such a leader, the forcesof discontent were quickly, effectively, organized. Even before theelection of Lincoln, the revolutionary leaders in South Carolina werecorresponding with men of like mind in other Southern States, especiallyAlabama, where was another leader, Yancey, only second in intensity toRhett. 

The word from these Alabama revolutionists to South Carolina was todare all, to risk seceding alone, confident that the other States ofthe South would follow. Rhett and his new associates took this perilousadvice. The election was followed by the call of a convention ofdelegates of the people of South Carolina. This convention, on thetwentieth of December, 1860, repealed the laws which united SouthCarolina with the other States and proclaimed their own independent. 

XII. THE CRISIS

Though Seward and other buoyant natures felt that the crisis had passedwith the election, less volatile people held the opposite view. Men whohad never before taken seriously the Southern threats of disunion hadwaked suddenly to a terrified consciousness that they were in for it. In their blindness to realities earlier in the year, they were like thatbrilliant host of camp followers which, as Thackeray puts it, led thearmy of Wellington dancing and feasting to the very brink of Waterloo. And now the day of reckoning had come. An emotional reaction carriedthem from one extreme to the other; from self-sufficient disregard oftheir adversaries to an almost self-abasing regard. 

The very type of these people and of their reaction was Horace Greeley. He was destined many times to make plain that he lived mainly in hissensibilities; that, in his kaleidoscopic vision, the pattern of theworld could be red and yellow and green today, and orange and purpleand blue tomorrow. To descend from a pinnacle of self-complacency intoa desolating abyss of panic, was as easy for Greeley as it is--in thevulgar but pointed American phrase--to roll off a log. A few days afterthe election, Greeley had rolled off his log. He was wallowing in panic. He began to scream editorially. The Southern extremists were terriblyin earnest; if they wanted to go, go they would, and go they should. Butfoolish Northerners would be sure to talk war and the retaining of theSouth in the Union by force: it must not be; what was the Union comparedwith bloodshed? There must be no war--no war. Such was Greeley'sterrified--appeal to the North. A few weeks after the election heprinted his famous editorial denouncing the idea of a Union pinnedtogether by bayonets. He followed up with another startling concessionto his fears: the South had as good cause for leaving the Union asthe colonies had for leaving the British Empire. A little later, heformulated his ultimate conclusion, --which like many of his ultimatesproved to be transitory, --and declared that if any group of SouthernStates "choose to form an independent nation, they have a clear moralright to do so, " and pledging himself and his followers to do "our bestto forward their views. "

Greeley wielded through The Tribune more influence, perhaps, than waspossessed by any other Republican with the single exception of Lincoln. His newspaper constituency was enormous, and the relation betweenthe leader and the led was unusually close. He was both oracle andbarometer. As a symptom of the Republican panic, as a cause increasingthat panic, he was of first importance. 

Meanwhile Congress had met. And at once, the most characteristicpeculiarity of the moment was again made emphatic. The popularmajorities and the political machines did not coincide. Both in theNorth and in the South a minority held the situation in the hollow ofits hand. The Breckinridge Democrats, despite their repudiation in thepresidential vote, included so many of the Southern politicians, theywere so well organized, they had scored such a menacing victory withthe aid of Rhett in South Carolina, they had played so skilfully on thefears of the South at large, their leaders were such skilled managers, that they were able to continue for the moment the recognized spokesmenof the South at Washington. They lost no time defining their position. If the Union were not to be sundered, the Republicans must pledgethemselves to a new and extensive compromise; it must be far differentfrom those historic compromises that had preceded it. Three featuresmust characterize any new agreement: The South must be dealt with asa unit; it must be given a "sphere of influence"--to use our modernterm--which would fully satisfy all its impulses of expansion; and inthat sphere, every question of slavery must be left entirely, forever, to local action. In a word, they demanded for the South what today wouldbe described as a "dominion" status. Therefore, they insisted that theparty which had captured the Northern political machine should formulateits reply to these demands. They gave notice that they would not discussindividual schemes, but only such as the victorious Republicans mightofficially present. Thus the national crisis became a party crisis. Whatcould the Republicans among themselves agree to propose?

The central figure of the crisis seemed at first to be the brilliantRepublican Senator from New York. Seward thought he understood theSouth, and what was still more important, human nature. Though he echoedGreeley's cry for peace--translating his passionate hysteria into thepolished cynicism of a diplomat who had been known to deny that he wasever entirely serious--he scoffed at Greeley's fears. If the South hadnot voted lack of confidence in the Breckinridge crowd, what had itvoted? If the Breckinridge leaders weren't maneuvering to save theirfaces, what could they be accused of doing? If Seward, the Republicanman of genius, couldn't see through all that, couldn't devise a wayto help them save their faces, what was the use in being a brilliantpolitician?

Jauntily self-complacent, as confident of himself as if Rome wereburning and he the garlanded fiddler, Seward braced himself for the taskof recreating the Union. 

But there was an obstacle in his path. It was Lincoln. Of course, itwas folly to propose a scheme which the incoming President would notsustain. Lincoln and Seward must come to an understanding. To bring thatabout Seward despatched a personal legate to Springfield. Thurlow Weed, editor, man of the world, political wire-puller beyond compare, Seward'sdevoted henchman, was the legate. One of the great events of Americanhistory was the conversation between Weed and Lincoln in December, 1860. By a rare propriety of dramatic effect, it occurred probably, on thevery day South Carolina brought to an end its campaign of menace andadopted its Ordinance of Secession, December twentieth. (1)

Weed had brought to Springfield a definite proposal. The Crittendencompromise was being hotly discussed in Congress and throughout thecountry. All the Northern advocates of conciliation were eager to put itthrough. There was some ground to believe that the Southern machine atWashington would accept it. If Lincoln would agree, Seward would make itthe basis of his policy. 

This Compromise would have restored the old line of the MissouriCompromise and would have placed it under the protection of aconstitutional amendment. This, together with a guarantee againstcongressional interference with slavery in the States where it existed, a guarantee the Republicans had already offered, seemed to Seward, toWeed, to Greeley, to the bulk of the party, a satisfactory means ofpreserving the Union. What was it but a falling back on the originalpolicy of the party, the undoing of those measures of 1854 which hadcalled the party into being? Was it conceivable that Lincoln wouldbalk the wishes of the party by obstructing such a natural mode ofextrication? But that was what Lincoln did. His views had advanced since1854. Then, he was merely for restoring the old duality of the country, the two "dominions, " Northern and Southern, each with its own socialorder. He had advanced to the belief that this duality could notpermanently continue. Just how far Lincoln realized what he was doing inrefusing to compromise will never be known. Three months afterward, hetook a course which seems to imply that his vision during the interimhad expanded, had opened before him a new revelation of the nature ofhis problem. At the earlier date Lincoln and the Southern people--notthe Southern machine--were looking at the one problem from oppositepoints of view, and were locating the significance of the problem indifferent features. To Lincoln, the heart of the matter was slavery. Tothe Southerners, including the men who had voted lack of confidence inBreckinridge, the heart of the matter was the sphere of influence. Whatthe Southern majority wanted was not the policy of the slave profiteersbut a secure future for expansion, a guarantee that Southern life, social, economic, cultural, would not be merged with the life of theopposite section: in a word, preservation of "dominion" status. InLincoln's mind, slavery being the main issue, this "dominion" issue wasincidental--a mere outgrowth of slavery that should begin to passaway with slavery's restriction. In the Southern mind, a communityconsciousness, the determination to be a people by themselves, nationwithin the nation, was the issue, and slavery was the incident. Torepeat, it is impossible to say what Lincoln would have done had hecomprehended the Southern attitude. His near horizon which had kepthim all along from grasping the negative side of the Southern movementprevented his perception of this tragic instance of cross-purposes. 

Lacking this perception, his thoughts had centered themselves on arecent activity of the slave profiteers. They had clamored for theannexation of new territory to the south of us. Various attempts hadbeen made to create an international crisis looking toward the seizureof Cuba. Then, too, bold adventurers had staked their heads, seeking tofound slave-holding communities in Central America. Why might not suchattempts succeed? Why might not new Slave States be created outside theUnion, eventually to be drawn in? Why not? said the slave profiteer, andgave money and assistance to the filibusters in Nicaragua. Why not? saidLincoln, also. What protection against such an extension of boundaries?Was the limitation of slave area to be on one side only, the Northernside? And here at last, for Lincoln, was what appeared to be the trueissue of the moment. To dualize the Union, assuming its boundaries to befixed, was one thing. To dualize the Union in the face of a movement forextension of boundaries was another. Hence it was now vital, as Lincolnreasoned, to give slavery a fixed boundary on all sides. Silently, whileothers fulminated, or rhapsodized, or wailed, he had moved inexorably toa new position which was nothing but a logical development of the old. The old position was--no extension of slave territory; the new positionwas--no more Slave States. (2) Because Crittenden's Compromise leftit possible to have a new Slave State in Cuba, a new Slave Statein Nicaragua, perhaps a dozen such new States, Lincoln refused tocompromise. (3)

It was a terrible decision, carrying within it the possibility of civilwar. But Lincoln could not be moved. This was the first acquaintanceof the established political leaders with his inflexible side. In therecesses of his own thoughts the decision had been reached. It wasuseless to argue with him. Weed carried back his ultimatum. Sewardabandoned Crittenden's scheme. The only chance for compromise passedaway. The Southern leaders set about their plans for organizing aSouthern Confederacy. 

XIII. ECLIPSE

Lincoln's ultimatum of December twentieth contained three proposals thatmight be made to the Southern leaders:

That the enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Law which hitherto had beenleft to State authorities should be taken over by Congress and supportedby the Republicans. 

That the Republicans to the extent of their power should work for therepeal of all those "Personal Liberty Laws" which had been establishedin certain Northern States to defeat the operation of the Fugitive SlaveLaw. 

That the Federal Union must be preserved. (1)

In presenting these proposals along with a refusal to consider theCrittenden Compromise, Seward tampered with their clear-cut form. Fearful of the effect on the extremists of the Republican group, hewithheld Lincoln's unconditional promise to maintain the Fugitive SlaveLaw and instead of pledging his party to the repeal of Personal LibertyLaws he promised only to have Congress request the States to repealthem. He suppressed altogether the assertion that the Union must bepreserved. (2) About the same time, in a public speech, he said he wasnot going to be "humbugged" by the bogy of secession, and gave hisfatuous promise that all the trouble would be ended inside ninety days. For all his brilliancy of a sort, he was spiritually obtuse. On him, as on Douglas, Fate had lavished opportunities to see life as it is, tounderstand the motives of men; but it could not make him use them. Hewas incorrigibly cynical. He could not divest himself of the idea thatall this confusion was hubbub, was but an ordinary political game, thathis only cue was to assist his adversaries in saving their faces. Inspite of his rich experience, --in spite of being an accomplished man ofthe world, --at least in his own estimation--he was as blind to the realmotives of that Southern majority which had rejected Breckinridge as wasthe inexperienced Lincoln. The coolness with which he modified Lincoln'sproposals was evidence that he considered himself the great Republicanand Lincoln an accident. He was to do the same again--to his own regret. 

When Lincoln issued his ultimatum, he was approaching the summit, if notat the very summit, of another of his successive waves of vitality, ofself-confidence. That depression which came upon him about the end of1858, which kept him undecided, in a mood of excessive caution duringmost of 1859, had passed away. The presidential campaign with itsthrilling tension, its excitement, had charged him anew with confidence. Although one more eclipse was in store for him--the darkest eclipse ofall--he was very nearly the definitive Lincoln of history. At least, hehad the courage which that Lincoln was to show. 

He was now the target for a besieging army of politicians clamoring for"spoils" in the shape of promises of preferment. It was a miserable anddisgraceful assault which profoundly offended him. (3) To his mind thiswas not the same thing as the simple-hearted personal politics ofhis younger days--friends standing together and helping one anotheralong--but a gross and monstrous rapacity. It was the first chill shadowthat followed the election day. 

There were difficult intrigues over the Cabinet. Promises made by hismanagers at Chicago were presented for redemption. Rival candidatesbidding for his favor, tried to cut each other's throats. For example, there was the intrigue of the War Department. The Lincoln managers hadpromised a Cabinet appointment to Pennsylvania; the followers of SimonCameron were a power; it had been necessary to win them over in orderto nominate Lincoln; they insisted that their leader was now entitledto the Pennsylvania seat in the Cabinet; but there was an anti-Cameronfaction almost as potent in Pennsylvania as the Cameron faction. Bothsent their agents to Springfield to lay siege to Lincoln. In thisduel, the Cameron forces won the first round. Lincoln offered himthe Secretaryship. Subsequently, his enemies made so good a case thatLincoln was convinced of the unwisdom of his decision and withdrew theoffer. But Cameron had not kept the offer confidential. The withdrawalwould discredit him politically and put a trump card into the handsof his enemies. A long dispute followed. Not until Lincoln had reachedWashington, immediately before the inauguration, was the dispute ended, the withdrawal withdrawn, and Cameron appointed. (4)

It was a dreary winter for the President-elect. It was also a brand-newexperience. For the first time he was a dispenser of favor on a grandscale. Innumerable men showed their meanest side, either to advancethemselves or to injure others. As the weeks passed and the spectaclegrew in shamelessness, his friends became more and more conscious of hispeculiar melancholy. The elation of the campaign subsided into a deepunhappiness over the vanity of this world. Other phases of the shadowyside of his character also asserted themselves. Conspicuous was acertain trend in his thinking that was part of Herndon's warrant forcalling him a fatalist. Lincoln's mysticism very early had taken a turntoward predestination, coupled with a belief in dreams. (5) He did not inany way believe in magic; he never had any faith in divinations, in theoccult, in any secret mode of alluring the unseen powers to take one'sside. Nevertheless, he made no bones about being superstitious. And hethought that coming events cast their shadows before, that something, atleast, of the future was sometimes revealed through dreams. "Nature, "he would say, "is the workshop of the Almighty, and we form but links inthe chain of intellectual and material life. "(6) Byron's Dream was oneof his favorite poems. He pondered those ancient, historical tales whichmake free use of portents. There was a fascination for him in the storyof Caracalla--how his murder of Geta was foretold, how he was upbraidedby the ghosts of his father and brother. This dream-faith of his was asreal as was a similar faith held by the authors of the Old Testament. He had his theory of the interpretation of dreams. Because they werea universal experience--as he believed, the universal mode ofcommunication between the unseen and the seen--his beloved "plainpeople, " the "children of Nature, " the most universal types of humanity, were their best interpreters. He also believed in presentiment. Asfaithfully as the simplest of the brood of the forest--those recreatedprimitives who regulated their farming by the brightness or thedarkness of the moon, who planted corn or slaughtered hogs as Artemisdirected--he trusted a presentiment if once it really took possession ofhim. A presentiment which had been formed before this time, we know notwhen, was clothed with authority by a dream, or rather a vision, thatcame to him in the days of melancholy disillusion during the last winterat Springfield. Looking into a mirror, he saw two Lincolns, --one alive, the other dead. It was this vision which clenched his pre-sentiment thathe was born to a great career and to a tragic end. He interpreted thevision that his administration would be successful, but that it wouldclose with his death. (7)

The record of his inner life during the last winter at Springfield isvery dim. But there can be no doubt that a desolating change attackedhis spirit. As late as the day of his ultimatum he was still incomparative sunshine, or, at least his clouds were not close about him. His will was steel, that day. Nevertheless, a friend who visited himin January, to talk over their days together, found not only that "theold-time zest" was lacking, but that it was replaced by "gloom anddespondency. "(8) The ghosts that hovered so frequently at the back ofhis mind, the brooding tendencies which fed upon his melancholy andmade him at times irresolute, were issuing from the shadows, troopingforward, to encompass him roundabout. 

In the midst of this spiritual reaction, he was further depressed by thestern news from the South and from Washington. His refusal to compromisewas beginning to bear fruit. The Gulf States seceded. A SouthernConfederacy was formed. There is no evidence that he lost faith inhis course, but abundant evidence that he was terribly unhappy. He waspreyed upon by his sense of helplessness, while Buchanan through hisweakness and vacillation was "giving away the case. " "Secession is beingfostered, " said he, "rather than repressed, and if the doctrine meetswith general acceptance in the Border States, it will be a great blow tothe government. "(9) He did not deceive himself upon the possible effectof his ultimatum, and sent word to General Scott to be prepared to holdor to "retake" the forts garrisoned by Federal troops in the SouthernStates. (10)

All the while his premonition of the approach of doom grew more darklyoppressive. The trail of the artist is discernible across his thoughts. In his troubled imagination he identified his own situation with that ofthe protagonist in tragedies on the theme of fate. He did not withholdhis thoughts from the supreme instance. That same friend who found himpossessed of gloom preserved these words of his: "I have read on myknees the story of Gethsemane, when the Son of God prayed in vainthat the cup of bitterness might pass from him. I am in the Gardenof Gethsemane now and my cup of bitterness is full and overflowingnow. "(11)

 "Like some strong seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance, With a glassy countenance, "

he faced toward Washington, toward the glorious terror promised him byhis superstitions. 

The last days before the departure were days of mingled gloom, desperation, and the attempt to recover hope. He visited his oldstepmother and made a pilgrimage to his father's grave. His thoughtsfondly renewed the details of his past life, lingered upon this andthat, as if fearful that it was all slipping away from him forever. Andthen he roused himself as if in sudden revolt against the Fates. The daybefore he left Springfield forever Lincoln met his partner for thelast time at their law office to wind up the last of their unsettledbusiness. "After those things were all disposed of, " says Herndon, "hecrossed to the opposite side of the room and threw himself down on theold office sofa. . . . He lay there for some moments his face tothe ceiling without either of us speaking. Presently, he inquired:'Billy'--he always called me by that name--'how long have we beentogether?' 'Over sixteen years, ' I answered. 'We've never had a crossword during all that time, have we?' . . . He gathered a bundle ofpapers and books he wished to take with him and started to go, butbefore leaving, he made the strange request that the sign board whichswung on its rusty hinges at the foot of the stairway would remain. 'Letit hang there undisturbed, ' he said, with a significant lowering of thevoice. 'Give our clients to understand that the election of a Presidentmakes no change in the firm of Lincoln & Herndon. If I live, I am comingback some time, and then we'll go right on practising law as if nothinghad happened. ' He lingered for a moment as if to take a last look atthe old quarters, and then passed through the door into the narrowhallway. "(12)

On a dreary day with a cold rain falling, he set forth. The railwaystation was packed with friends. He made his way through the crowdslowly, shaking hands. "Having finally reached the train, he ascendedthe rear platform, and, facing about to the throng which had closedabout him, drew himself up to his full height, removed his hat and stoodfor several seconds in profound silence. His eyes roved sadly over thatsea of upturned faces. . . There was an unusual quiver on his lips anda still more unusual tear on his shriveled cheek. His solemn manner, hislong silence, were as full of melancholy eloquence as any words he couldhave uttered. "(13) At length, he spoke: "My friends, no one not in mysituation can appreciate my feeling of sadness at this parting. To thisplace and the kindness of these people, I owe everything. Here I havelived a quarter of a century, and have passed from a young to an oldman. Here my children have been born and one is buried. I now leave, not knowing when or whether ever, I may return, with a task before megreater than that which rested upon Washington. Without the assistanceof that Divine Being who ever attended him, I can not succeed. Withthat assistance, I can not fail. Trusting in Him who can go with me andremain with you, and be everywhere for good, let us confidently hopethat all will yet be well. To His care commending you, as I hope in yourprayers you will commend me, I bid you an affectionate farewell. "(14)

XIV. THE STRANGE NEW MAN

There is a period of sixteen months--from February, 1861, to a day inJune, 1862, --when Lincoln is the most singular, the most problematic ofstatesmen. Out of this period he issues with apparent abruptness, the final Lincoln, with a place among the few consummate masters ofstate-craft. During the sixteen months, his genius comes and goes. Hisconfidence, whether in himself or in others, is an uncertain quantity. At times he is bold, even rash; at others, irresolute. The constantfactor in his mood all this while is his amazing humility. He seems tohave forgotten his own existence. As a person with likes and dislikes, with personal hopes and fears, he has vanished. He is but an afflictedand perplexed mind, struggling desperately to save his country. Aselfless man, he may be truly called through months of torment whichmade him over from a theoretical to a practical statesman. He enteredthis period a literary man who had been elevated almost by accident tothe position of a leader in politics. After many blunders, after doubt, hesitation and pain, he came forth from this stern ordeal a powerful manof action. 

The impression which he made on the country at the opening of thisperiod was unfortunate. The very power that had hitherto been the makingof him--the literary power, revealing to men in wonderfully convincingform the ideas which they felt within them but could not utter--this haddeserted him. Explain the psychology of it any way you will, there isthe fact! The speeches Lincoln made on the way to Washington during thelatter part of February were appallingly unlike himself. His mind hadsuddenly fallen dumb. He had nothing to say. The gloom, the desolationthat had penetrated his soul, somehow, for the moment, made himcommonplace. When he talked--as convention required him to do at all hisstopping places--his words were but faint echoes of the greatpolitical exponent he once had been. His utterances were fatuous; mereexhortations to the country not to worry. "There is no crisis but anartificial one, " he said. (1) And the country stood aghast! Amazement, bewilderment, indignation, was the course of the reaction in many mindsof his own party. Their verdict was expressed in the angry language ofSamuel Bowles, "Lincoln is a Simple Susan. "(2)

In private talk, Lincoln admitted that he was "more troubled about theoutlook than he thought it discreet to show. " This remark was made to a"Public Man, " whose diary has been published but whose identity is stillsecret. Though keenly alert for any touch of weakness or absurdity inthe new President, calling him "the most ill-favored son of Adam I eversaw, " the Public Man found him "crafty and sensible. " In conversation, the old Lincoln, the matchless phrase-maker, could still expresshimself. At New York he was told of a wild scheme that was on foot toseparate the city from the North, form a city state such as Hamburg thenwas, and set up a commercial alliance with the Confederacy. "As to thefree city business, " said Lincoln, "well, I reckon it will be some timebefore the front door sets up bookkeeping on its own account. "(3) Theformal round of entertainment on his way to Washington wearied Lincolnintensely. Harassed and preoccupied, he was generally ill at ease. Andhe was totally unused to sumptuous living. Failures in social usage wereinevitable. New York was convulsed with amusement because at the operahe wore a pair of huge black kid gloves which attracted the attention ofthe whole house, "hanging as they did over the red velvet box front. "At an informal reception, between acts in the director's room, he lookedterribly bored and sat on the sofa at the end of the room with his hatpushed back on his head. Caricatures filled the opposition papers. He was spoken of as the "Illinois ape" and the "gorilla. " Every rashremark, every "break" in social form, every gaucherie was seized uponand ridiculed with-out mercy. 

There is no denying that the oddities of Lincoln's manner thoughquickly dismissed from thought by men of genius, seriously troubled evengenerous men who lacked the intuitions of genius. And he never overcamethese oddities. During the period of his novitiate as a ruler, the critical sixteen months, they were carried awkwardly, withembarrassment. Later when he had found himself as a ruler, when hisself-confidence had reached its ultimate form and he knew what he reallywas, he forgot their existence. None the less, they were always a partof him, his indelible envelope. At the height of his power, he receivedvisitors with his feet in leather slippers. (4) He discussed greataffairs of state with one of those slippered feet flung up on to acorner of his desk. A favorite attitude, even when debating vitalmatters with the great ones of the nation, is described by hissecretaries as "sitting on his shoulders"--he would slide far down intohis chair and stick up both slippers so high above his head that theycould rest with ease upon his mantelpiece. (5) No wonder that his enemiesmade unlimited fun. And they professed to believe that there was anissue here. When the elegant McClellan was moving heaven and earth, ashe fancied, to get the army out of its shirt-sleeves, the President'smanner was a cause of endless irritation. Still more serious was theeffect of his manner on many men who agreed with him otherwise. Such ahigh-minded leader as Governor Andrew of Massachusetts never got overthe feeling that Lincoln was a rowdy. How could a rowdy be the salvationof the country? In the dark days of 1864, when a rebellion against hisleadership was attempted, this merely accidental side of him was anelement of danger. The barrier it had created between himself and themore formal types, made it hard for the men who finally saved him toovercome their prejudice and nail his colors to the mast. Andrew'sbiographer shows himself a shrewd observer when he insists on theunexpressed but inexorable scale by which Andrew and his followingmeasured Lincoln. They had grown up in the faith that you could tella statesman by certain external signs, chiefly by a grandiose andcommanding aspect such as made overpowering the presence of Webster. And this idea was not confined to any one locality. Everywhere, more orless, the conservative portion in every party held this view. It was theview of Washington in 1848 when Washington had failed to see the realLincoln through his surface peculiarities. It was again the view ofWashington when Lincoln returned to it. 

Furthermore, his free way of talking, the broad stories he continuedto tell, were made counts in his indictment. One of the bequests ofPuritanism in America is the ideal, at least, of extreme scrupulousnessin talk. To many sincere men Lincoln's choice of fables was often adeadly offense. Charles Francis Adams never got over the shock of theirfirst interview. Lincoln clenched a point with a broad story. Manyprofessional politicians who had no objection to such talk in itself, glared and sneered when the President used it--because forsooth, itmight estrange a vote. 

Then, too, Lincoln had none of the social finesse that might haveadapted his manner to various classes. He was always incorrigibly thedemocrat pure and simple. He would have laughed uproariously over thatundergraduate humor, the joy of a famous American University, supposedlystrong on Democracy:

 "Where God speaks to Jones, in the very same tones, That he uses to Hadley and Dwight. "

Though Lincoln's queer aplomb, his good-humored familiarity on firstacquaintance, delighted most of his visitors, it offended many. It waslacking in tact. Often it was a clumsy attempt to be jovial too soon, aswhen he addressed Greeley by the name of "Horace" almost on first sight. His devices for putting men on the familiar footing lacked originality. The frequency with which he called upon a tall visitor to measure upagainst him reveals the poverty of his social invention. He applied thisdevice with equal thoughtlessness to the stately Sumner, who protested, and to a nobody who grinned and was delighted. 

It was this mere envelope of the genius that was deplorably evident onthe journey from Springfield to Washington. There was one detail of thejourney that gave his enemies a more definite ground for sneering. Bythe irony of fate, the first clear instance of Lincoln's humility, hisreluctance to set up his own judgment against his advisers, was alsohis first serious mistake. There is a distinction here that is vital. Lincoln was entering on a new role, the role of the man of action. Hitherto all the great decisions of his life had been speculative; theyhad developed from within; they dealt with ideas. The inflexible side ofhim was intellectual. Now, without any adequate apprenticeship, he wascalled upon to make practical decisions, to decide on courses of action, at one step to pass from the dream of statecraft to its application. Inevitably, for a considerable time, he was two people; he passed backand forth from one to the other; only by degrees did he bring the twotogether. Meanwhile, he appeared contradictory. Inwardly, as a thinker, his development was unbroken; he was still cool, inflexible, drawing allhis conclusions out of the depths of himself. Outwardly, in action, he was learning the new task, hesitatingly, with vacillation, withexcessive regard to the advisers whom he treated as experts in action. It was no slight matter for an extraordinarily sensitive man to take upa new role at fifty-two. 

This first official mistake of Lincoln's was in giving way to the fearsof his retinue for his safety. The time had become hysterical. Thewildest sort of stories filled the air. Even before he left Springfieldthere were rumors of plots to assassinate him. (6) On his arrival atPhiladelphia information was submitted to his companions which convincedthem that his life was in danger--an attempt would be made to kill himas he passed through Baltimore. Seward at Washington had heard the samestory and had sent his son to Philadelphia to advise caution. Lincoln'sfriends insisted that he leave his special train and proceed toWashington with only one companion, on an ordinary night train. Railwayofficials were called in. Elaborate precautions were arranged. Thetelegraph lines were all to be disconnected for a number of hours sothat even if the conspirators--assuming there were any--should discoverhis change of plan, they would be unable to communicate with Baltimore. The one soldier in the party, Colonel Sumner, vehemently protestedthat these changes were all "a damned piece of cowardice. " But Lincolnacquiesced in the views of the majority of his advisers. He passedthrough Baltimore virtually in disguise; nothing happened; no certainevidence of a conspiracy was discovered. And all his enemies took up thecry of cowardice and rang the changes upon it. (7)

Meanwhile, despite all this semblance of indecision, of feebleness, there were signs that the real inner Lincoln, however clouded, was stillalive. By way of offset to his fatuous utterances, there might have beenset, had the Country been in a mood to weigh with care, several strongand clear pronouncements. And these were not merely telling phrases likethat characteristic one about the bookkeeping of the front door. Hismind was struggling out of its shadow. And the mode of its reappearancewas significant. His reasoning upon the true meaning of the struggle hewas about to enter, reached a significant stage in the speech he made atHarrisburg. (8)

"I have often inquired of myself, " he said, "what great principle oridea it was that kept this Confederacy (the United States) so longtogether. It was not the mere matter of the separation of thecolonies from the motherland, but that sentiment in the Declaration ofIndependence which gave liberty not alone to the people of the countrybut hope to all the world for all future time. It was that which gavepromise that in due time the weights would be lifted from the shouldersof all men and that all should have an equal chance. This is thesentiment embodied in the Declaration of Independence. Now, my friends, can this country be saved on that basis? If it can, I will considermyself one of the happiest men in the world, if I can help to save it. If it can not be saved upon that principle, it will be truly awful. Butif this country can not be saved without giving up that principle, I wasabout to say I would rather be assassinated on this spot than surrenderit. Now, in my view of the present aspect of affairs, there is no needof bloodshed and war. There is no necessity for it I am not in favor ofsuch a course, and I may say in advance that there will be no bloodshedunless it is forced upon the government. The government will not useforce unless force is used against it. "

The two ideas underlying this utterance had grown in his thoughtsteadily, consistently, ever since their first appearance in the Protesttwenty-four years previous. The great issue to which all else--slavery, "dominion status, " everything--was subservient, was the preservation ofdemocratic institutions; the means to that end was the preservation ofthe Federal government. Now, as in 1852, his paramount object was notto "disappoint the Liberal party throughout the world, " to prove thatDemocracy, when applied on a great scale, had yet sufficient coherenceto remain intact, no matter how powerful, nor how plausible, were theforces of disintegration. 

Dominated by this purpose he came to Washington. There he met Seward. Itwas the stroke of fate for both men. Seward, indeed, did not know thatit was. He was still firmly based in the delusion that he, not Lincoln, was the genius of the hour. And he had this excuse, that it was also thecountry's delusion. There was pretty general belief both among friendsand foes that Lincoln would be ruled by his Cabinet. In a council thatwas certain to include leaders of accepted influence--Seward, Chase, Cameron--what chance for this untried newcomer, whose prestige had beenreared not on managing men, but on uttering words? In Seward'sthoughts the answer was as inevitable as the table of addition. Equallymathematical was the conclusion that only one unit gave value to thecombination. And, of course, the leader of the Republicans in the Senatewas the unit. A severe experience had to be lived through before Sewardmade his peace with destiny. Lincoln was the quicker to perceive whenthey came together that something had happened. Almost from the minuteof their meeting, he began to lean upon Seward; but only in a certainway. This was not the same thing as that yielding to the practicaladvisers which began at Philadelphia, which was subsequently to be thecause of so much confusion. His response to Seward was intellectual. Itwas of the inner man and revealed itself in his style of writing. 

Hitherto, Lincoln's progress in literature had been marked by thedevelopment of two characteristics and by the lack of a third. The twothat he possessed were taste and rhythm. At the start he was free fromthe prevalent vice of his time, rhetoricality. His "Address to theVoters of Sangamon County" which was his first state paper, was asdirect, as free from bombast, as the greatest of his later achievements. Almost any other youth who had as much of the sense of language as wasthere exhibited, would have been led astray by the standards of thehour, would have mounted the spread-eagle and flapped its wings inrhetorical clamor. But Lincoln was not precocious. In art, as ineverything else, he progressed slowly; the literary part of him workedits way into the matter-of-fact part of him with the gradualness of thedaylight through a shadowy wood. It was not constant in its development. For many years it was little more than an irregular deepening of histwo original characteristics, taste and rhythm. His taste, fed onBlackstone, Shakespeare, and the Bible, led him more and more exactinglyto say just what he meant, to eschew the wiles of decoration, to beutterly non-rhetorical. His sense of rhythm, beginning simply, no moreat first than a good ear for the sound of words, deepened intokeen perception of the character of the word-march, of that extrasignificance which is added to an idea by the way it conducts itself, moving grandly or feebly as the case may be, from the unknown into theknown, and thence across a perilous horizon, into memory. On the basisof these two characteristics he had acquired a style that was a richblend of simplicity, directness, candor, joined with a clearness beyondpraise, with a delightful cadence, having always a splendidly orderedmarch of ideas. 

But there was the third thing in which the earlier style of Lincoln'swas wanting. Marvelously apt for the purpose of the moment, his writingsprevious to 1861 are vanishing from the world's memory. The more notablewritings of his later years have become classics. And the differencedoes not turn on subject-matter. All the ideas of his late writings hadbeen formulated in the earlier. The difference is purely literary. Theearlier writings were keen, powerful, full of character, melodious, impressive. The later writings have all these qualities, and inaddition, that constant power to awaken the imagination, to carry anidea beyond its own horizon into a boundless world of imperishableliterary significance, which power in argumentative prose is beauty. Andhow did Lincoln attain this? That he had been maturing from within thepower to do this, one is compelled by the analogy of his other mentalexperiences to believe. At the same time, there can be no doubt whotaught him the trick, who touched the secret spring and opened the newdoor to his mind. It was Seward. Long since it had been agreed betweenthem that Seward was to be Secretary of State. (9) Lincoln asked himto criticize his inaugural. Seward did so, and Lincoln, in the main, accepted his criticism. But Seward went further. He proposed a newparagraph. He was not a great writer and yet he had something of thatthird thing which Lincoln hitherto had not exhibited. However, inpursuing beauty of statement, he often came dangerously near to mererhetoric; his taste was never sure; his sense of rhythm was inferior;the defects of his qualities were evident. None the less, Lincoln saw ata glance that if he could infuse into Seward's words his own more robustqualities, the result--'would be a richer product than had ever issuedfrom his own qualities as hitherto he had known them. He effectedthis transmutation and in doing so raised his style to a new range ofeffectiveness. The great Lincoln of literature appeared in the firstinaugural and particularly in that noble passage which was the workof Lincoln and Seward together. In a way it said only what Lincoln hadalready said--especially in the speech at Harrisburg--but with what adifference!

"In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in mine, isthe momentous issue of civil war. The government will not assail you. You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors. Youhave no oath registered in Heaven to destroy the government, while Ishall have the most solemn one to preserve, protect and defend it. 

"I am loath to close. We are not enemies but friends. Though passionmay have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mysticchords of memory stretching from every battle-field and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yetswell the chorus of the Union when again touched as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature. "*

 *Lincoln VI, 184; N. & H. , III, 343. Seward advised the omission of part of the original draft of the first of these two paragraphs. After "defend it, " Lincoln had written, "You can forbear the assault upon it. I can not shrink from the defense of it. With you and not with me is the solemn question 'Shall it be peace or a sword?'" Having struck this out, he accepted Seward's advice to add "some words of affection--some of calm and cheerful confidence. "

The original version of the concluding paragraph was prepared by Sewardand read as follows: "I close. We are not, we must not he aliens orenemies, but fellow-countrymen and brethren. Although passion hasstrained our bonds of affection too hardly, they must not, I am sure, they will not, be broken. The mystic chords which, proceeding fromso many battlefields and so many patriot graves, pass through all thehearts and all hearths in this broad continent of ours, will yet againharmonize in their ancient music when breathed upon by the guardianangel of the nation. "

These words, now so famous, were spoken in the east portico of theCapitol on "one of our disagreeable, clear, windy, Washington springdays. "(10) Most of the participants were agitated; many were alarmed. Chief Justice Taney who administered the oath could hardly speak, sonear to uncontrollable was his emotion. General Scott anxiously kepthis eye upon the crowd which was commanded by cannon. Cavalry were inreadiness to clear the streets in case of riot. Lincoln's carriage onthe way to the Capitol had been closely guarded. He made his way tothe portico between files of soldiers. So intent--overintent--were hisguardians upon his safety that they had been careless of the smallermatter of his comfort. There was insufficient room for the large companythat had been invited to attend. The new President stood beside arickety little table and saw no place on which to put his hat. SenatorDouglas stepped forward and relieved him of the burden. Lincoln was"pale and very nervous, " and toward the close of his speech, visiblyaffected. Observers differ point-blank as to the way the inaugural wasreceived. The "Public Man" says that there was little enthusiasm. Theopposite version makes the event an oratorical triumph, with the crowd, at the close, completely under his spell. (11)

On the whole, the inauguration and the festivities that followed appearto have formed a dismal event. While Lincoln spoke, the topmost peak ofthe Capitol, far above his head, was an idle derrick; the present domewas in process of construction; work on it had been arrested, and whocould say when, if ever, the work would be resumed? The day closed withan inaugural ball that was anything but brilliant. "The great tawdryballroom . . . Not half full--and such an assemblage of strange costumes, male and female. Very few people of any consideration were there. ThePresident looked exhausted and uncomfortable, and most ungainly in hisdress; and Mrs. Lincoln all in blue, with a feather in her hair and ahighly flushed face. "(12)

XV. PRESIDENT AND PREMIER

The brilliant Secretary, who so promptly began to influence thePresident had very sure foundations for that influence. He was inuredto the role of great man; he had a rich experience of public life;while Lincoln, painfully conscious of his inexperience, was perhapsthe humblest-minded ruler that ever took the helm of a ship of state inperilous times. Furthermore, Seward had some priceless qualitieswhich, for Lincoln, were still to seek. First of all, he hadaudacity--personally, artistically, politically. Seward's instantaneousgift to Lincoln was by way of throwing wide the door of his gatheringliterary audacity. There is every reason to think that Seward's personalaudacity went to Lincoln's heart at once. To be sure, he was not yetcapable of going along with it. The basal contrast of the first month ofhis administration lies between the President's caution and the boldnessof the Secretary. Nevertheless, to a sensitive mind, seeking guidance, surrounded by less original types of politicians, the splendidfearlessness of Seward, whether wise or foolish, must have rung likea trumpet peal soaring over the heads of a crowd whose teeth werechattering. While the rest of the Cabinet pressed their ears to theground, Seward thought out a policy, made a forecast of the future, andoffered to stake his head on the correctness of his reasoning. Thismay have been rashness; it may have been folly; but, intellectuallyat least, it was valor. Among Lincoln's other advisers, valor at thatmoment was lacking. Contrast, however, was not the sole, nor the surestbasis of Seward's appeal to Lincoln. Their characters had a commonfactor. For all their immeasurable difference in externals, both atbottom were void of malice. It was this characteristic above all othersthat gave them spiritually common ground. In Seward, this quality hadbeen under fire for a long while. The political furies of "that irontime" had failed to rouse echoes in his serene and smiling soul. Therefore, many men who accepted him as leader because, indeed, theycould not do without him--because none other in their camp hadhis genius for management, for the glorification of politicalintrigue--these same men followed him doubtfully, with bad grace, willing to shift to some other leader whenever he might arise. The clueto their distrust was Seward's amusement at the furious. Could a manwho laughed when you preached on the beauty of the hewing of Agag, couldsuch a man be sincere? And that Seward in some respects was not sincere, history generally admits. He loved to poke fun at his opponents byappearing to sneer at himself, by ridiculing the idea that he was everserious. His scale of political values was different from that of mostof his followers. Nineteen times out of twenty, he would treat what theytermed "principles" as mere political counters, as legitimate subjectsof bargain. If by any deal he could trade off any or all of thesenineteen in order to secure the twentieth, which for him was the onlyvital one, he never scrupled to do so. Against a lurid background ofpolitical ferocity, this amused, ironic figure came to be rated by theextremists, both in his own and in the enemy camp as Mephistopheles. 

No quality could have endeared him more certainly to Lincoln than thevery one which the bigots misunderstood. From his earliest youth Lincolnhad been governed by this same quality. With his non-censorious mind, which accepted so much of life as he found it, which was foreverstripping principles of their accretions, what could be more inevitablethan his warming to the one great man at Washington who like him heldthat such a point of view was the only rational one. Seward's ironicpeacefulness in the midst of the storm gained in luster because allabout him raged a tempest of ferocity, mitigated, at least so far as thedistracted President could see, only by self-interest or pacifism. 

As Lincoln came into office, he could see and hear many signs of arising fierceness of sectional hatred. His secretary records withdisgust a proposal to conquer the Gulf States, expel their whitepopulation, and reduce the region to a gigantic state preserve, wherenegroes should grow cotton under national supervision. (1) "We of theNorth, " said Senator Baker of Oregon, "are a majority of the Union, andwe will govern our Union in our own way. "(2) At the other extreme wasthe hysterical pacifism of the Abolitionists. Part of Lincoln's abidingquarrel with the Abolitionists was their lack of national feeling. Theirpeculiar form of introspection had injected into politics the idea ofpersonal sin. Their personal responsibility for slavery--they beingpart of a country that tolerated it--was their basal inspiration. Consequently, the most distinctive Abolitionists welcomed thisopportunity to cast off their responsibility. If war had been proposedas a crusade to abolish slavery, their attitude might have beendifferent But in March, 1860, no one but the few ultra-extremists, whomscarcely anybody heeded, dreamed of such a war. A war to restore theUnion was the only sort that was considered seriously. Such a war, theAbolitionists bitterly condemned. They seized upon pacifism as theirdefense. Said Whittier of the Seceding States:

 They break the links of Union: shall we light The fires of hell to weld anew the chain, On that red anvil where each blow is pain?

The fury and the fear offended Lincoln in equal measure. After longyears opposing the political temper of the extremists, he was not theman now to change front. To one who believed himself marked out for atragic end, the cowardice at the heart of the pacifism of his time wasrevolting. It was fortunate for his own peace of mind that he could herecount on the Secretary of State. No argument based on fear of pain wouldmeet in Seward with anything but derision. "They tell us, " he had oncesaid, and the words expressed his constant attitude, "that we are toencounter opposition. Why, bless my soul, did anybody ever expect toreach a fortune, or fame, or happiness on earth or a crown in heaven, without encountering resistance and opposition? What are we made men forbut to encounter and overcome opposition arrayed against us in the lineof our duty?"(3)

But if the ferocity and the cowardice were offensive and disheartening, there was something else that was beneath contempt. Never wasself-interest more shockingly displayed. It was revealed in manyways, but impinged upon the new President in only one. A horde ofoffice-seekers besieged him in the White House. The parallel to thisamazing picture can hardly be found in history. It was taken for grantedthat the new party would make a clean sweep of the whole civil list, that every government employee down to the humblest messenger boy tooyoung to have political ideas was to bear the label of the victoriousparty. Every Congressman who had made promises to his constituents, every politician of every grade who thought he had the party in hisdebt, every adventurer who on any pretext could make a showing of partyservice rendered, poured into Washington. It was a motley horde. 

 "Hark, hark, the dogs do bark, The beggars are coming to town. "

They converted the White House into a leaguer. They swarmed into thecorridors and even the private passages. So dense was the swarm thatit was difficult to make one's way either in or out. Lincoln describedhimself by the image of a man renting rooms at one end of his housewhile the other end was on fire. (4) And all this while the existence ofthe Republic was at stake! It did not occur to him that it was safe todefy the horde, to send it about its business. Here again, the figure ofSeward stood out in brilliant light against the somber background. Oneof Seward's faculties was his power to form devoted lieutenants. He hadthat sure and nimble judgment which enables some men to inspire theirlieutenants rather than categorically to instruct them. All the sordidside of his political games he managed in this way. He did not appearhimself as the bargainer. In the shameful eagerness of most of thepoliticians to find offices for their retainers, Seward was conspicuousby contrast. Even the Cabinet was not free from this vice of catering tothe thirsty horde. (5) Alone, at this juncture, Seward detached himselffrom the petty affairs of the hour and gave his whole attention tostatecraft. 

He had a definite policy. Another point of contact with Lincoln was theattitude of both toward the Union, supplemented as it was by theirviews of the place of slavery in the problem they confronted. Both werenationalists ready to make any sacrifices for the national idea. Bothregarded slavery as an issue of second importance. Both were preparedfor great concessions if convinced that, ultimately, their concessionswould strengthen the trend of American life toward a general exaltationof nationality. 

On the other hand, their differences--

Seward approached the problem in the same temper, with the sameassumptions, that were his in the previous December. He still believedthat his main purpose was to enable a group of politicians to save theirfaces by effecting a strategic retreat. Imputing to the Southern leadersan attitude of pure self-interest, he believed that if allowed to playthe game as they desired, they would mark time until circumstancesrevealed to them whether there was more profit for them in the Union orout; he also believed that if sufficient time could be given, and if noarmed clash took place, it would be demonstrated first, that they didnot have so strong a hold on the South as they had thought they had;and second, that on the whole, it was to their interests to patch up thequarrel and come back into the Union. But he also saw that they had aserious problem of leadership, which, if rudely handled, might make itimpossible for them to stand still. They had inflamed the sentiment ofstate-patriotism. In South Carolina, particularly, the popular demandwas for independence. With this went the demand that Fort Sumter inCharleston Harbor, garrisoned by Federal troops, should be surrendered, or if not surrendered, taken forcibly from the United States. A fewcannon shots at Sumter would mean war. An article in Seward's creed ofstatecraft asserted that the populace will always go wild over a war. Toprevent a war fever in the North was the first condition of his policyat home. Therefore, in order to prevent it, the first step in saving hisenemies' faces was to safeguard them against the same danger in theirown calm. He must help them to prevent a war fever in the South. He sawbut one way to do this. The conclusion which became the bed rock of hispolicy was inevitable. Sumter must be evacuated. 

Even before the inauguration, he had broached this idea to Lincoln. Hehad tried to keep Lincoln from inserting in the inaugural the words, "The power confided to me will be used to hold, occupy and possessthe property and places belonging to the government. " He had proposedinstead, "The power confided in me shall be used indeed with efficacy, but also with discretion, in every case and exigency, according tothe circumstances actually existing, and with a view and a hope ofa peaceful solution of the national troubles, and the restoration offraternal sympathies and affections. "(6) With the rejection of Seward'sproffered revision, a difference between them in policy began todevelop. Lincoln, says one of his secretaries, accepted Seward's mainpurpose but did not share his "optimism. "(7) It would be truer to saythat in this stage of his development, he was lacking in audacity. Inhis eager search for advice, he had to strike a balance between thedaring Seward who at this moment built entirely on his own power ofpolitical devination, and the cautious remainder of the Cabinet whohad their ears to the ground trying their best to catch the note ofauthority in the rumblings of vox populi. For his own part, Lincolnbegan with two resolves: to go very cautiously, --and not give somethingfor nothing. Far from him, as yet, was that plunging mood which inSeward pushed audacity to the verge of a gamble. However, just previousto the inauguration, he took a cautious step in Seward's direction. Virginia, like all the other States of the upper South, was torn by thequestion which side to take. There was a "Union" party in Virginia, anda "Secession" party. A committee of leading Unionists conferred withLincoln. They saw the immediate problem very much as Seward did. Theybelieved that if time were allowed, the crisis could be tided over andthe Union restored; but the first breath of war would wreck their hopes. The condition of bringing about an adjustment was the evacuation ofSumter. Lincoln told them that if Virginia could be kept in the Unionby the evacuation of Sumter, he would not hesitate to recall thegarrison. (8) A few days later, despite what he had said in theinaugural, he repeated this offer. A convention was then sitting atRichmond in debate upon the relations of Virginia to the Union. Ifit would drop the matter and dissolve--so Lincoln told anothercommittee--he would evacuate Sumter and trust the recovery of the lowerSouth to negotiation. (9) No results, so far as is known, came of eitherof those offers. 

During the first half of March, the Washington government marked time. The office-seekers continued to besiege the President. South Carolinacontinued to clamor for possession of Sumter. The Confederacy sentcommissioners to Washington whom Lincoln refused to recognize. TheVirginia Convention swayed this way and that. 

Seward went serenely about his business, confident that everything wascertain to come his way soon or late. He went so far as to advise anintermediary to tell the Confederate Commissioners that all they hadto do to get possession of Sumter was to wait. The rest of the Cabinetpressed their ears more tightly than ever to the ground. The rumblingsof vox populi were hard to interpret. The North appeared to be in twominds. This was revealed the day following the inauguration, when aRepublican Club in New York held a high debate upon the condition of thecountry. One faction wanted Lincoln to declare for a war-policy; anotherwished the Club to content itself with a vote of confidence in theAdministration. Each faction put its views into a resolution and as ahappy device for maintaining harmony, both resolutions were passed. (10)The fragmentary, miscellaneous evidence of newspapers, politicalmeetings, the talk of leaders, local elections, formed a confused clamorwhich each listener interpreted according to his predisposition. Themembers of the Cabinet in their relative isolation at Washington foundit exceedingly difficult to make up their minds what the people werereally saying. Of but one thing they were certain, and that was thatthey represented a minority party. Before committing themselves any way, it was life and death to know what portion of the North would stand bythem. (11)

At this point began a perplexity that was to torment the Presidentalmost to the verge of distraction. How far could he trust his militaryadvisers? Old General Scott was at the head of the army. He had oncebeen a striking, if not a great figure. Should his military advice beaccepted as final? Scott informed Lincoln that Sumter was short of foodand that any attempt to relieve it would call for a much larger forcethan the government could muster. Scott urged him to withdraw thegarrison. Lincoln submitted the matter to the Cabinet. He asked fortheir opinions in writing. (12) Five advised taking Scott at his word andgiving up all thought of relieving Sumter. There were two dissenters. The Secretary of the Treasury, Salmon Portland Chase, struck thekey-note of his later political career by an elaborate argument onexpediency. If relieving Sumter would lead to civil war, Chase was notin favor of relief; but on the whole he did not think that civilwar would result, and therefore, on the whole, he favored a reliefexpedition. One member of the Cabinet, Montgomery Blair, the PostmasterGeneral, an impetuous, fierce man, was vehement for relief at all costs. Lincoln wanted to agree with Chase and Blair. He reasoned that if thefort was given up, the necessity under which it was done would notbe fully understood; that by many it would be construed as part of avoluntary policy, that at home it would discourage the friends of theUnion, embolden its adversaries, and go far to insure to the matter arecognition abroad. 

Nevertheless, with the Cabinet five to two against him, with hismilitary adviser against him, Lincoln put aside his own views. Thegovernment went on marking time and considering the credentials ofapplicants for country post-offices. 

By this time, Lincoln had thrown off the overpowering gloom whichpossessed him in the latter days at Springfield. It is possible hehad reacted to a mood in which there was something of levity. Hisoscillation of mood from a gloom that nothing penetrated to a sort ofdesperate mirth, has been noted by various observers. And in 1861 hehad not reached his final poise, that firm holding of the middleway, ---which afterward fused his moods and made of him, at least inaction, a sustained personality. 

About the middle of the month he had a famous interview with Colonel W. T. Sherman who had been President of the University of Louisiana and hadrecently resigned. Senator John Sherman called at the White House withregard to "some minor appointments in Ohio. " The Colonel went with him. When Colonel Sherman spoke of the seriousness of the Secession movement, Lincoln replied, "Oh, we'll manage to keep house. " The Colonel was sooffended by what seemed to him the flippancy of the President that heabandoned his intention to resume the military life and withdrew fromWashington in disgust. (13)

Not yet had Lincoln attained a true appreciation of the real difficultybefore him. He had not got rid of the idea that a dispute over slaveryhad widened accidentally into a needless sectional quarrel, and that assoon as the South had time to think things over, it would see that itdid not really want the quarrel. He had a queer idea that meanwhile hecould hold a few points on the margin of the Seceded States, open customhouses on ships at the mouths of harbors, but leave vacant all Federalappointments within the Seceded States and ignore the absence of theirrepresentatives from Washington. (14) This marginal policy did not seemto him a policy of coercion; and though he was beginning to see that thesituation from the Southern point of view turned on the right of a Stateto resist coercion, he was yet to learn that idealistic elements ofemotion and of political dogma were the larger part of his difficulty. 

Meanwhile, the upper South had been proclaiming its idealism. Itsattitude was creating a problem for the lower South as well as for theNorth. The pro-slavery leaders had been startled out of a dream. Thebelief in a Southern economic solidarity so complete that the secessionof any one Slave State would compel the secession of all the others, that belief had been proved fallacious. It had been made plain thaton the economic issue, even as on the issue of sectional distrust, the upper South would not follow the lower South into secession. Whendelegates from the Georgia Secessionists visited the legislature ofNorth Carolina, every courtesy was shown to them; the Speaker of theHouse assured them of North Carolina's sympathy and of her enduringfriendliness; but he was careful not to suggest an intention to secede, unless (the condition that was destiny!) an attempt should be made toviolate the sovereignty of the State by marching troops across her soilto attack the Confederates. Then, on the one issue of State sovereignty, North Carolina would leave the Union. (15) The Unionists in Virginiatook similar ground. They wished to stay in the Union, and they weredetermined not to go out on the issue of slavery. Therefore they laidtheir heads together to get that issue out of the way. Their problemwas to devise a compromise that would do three things: lay the Southerndread of an inundation of sectional Northern influence; silence theslave profiteers; meet the objections that had induced Lincoln towreck the Crittenden Compromise. They felt that the first and secondobjectives would be reached easily enough by reviving the line of theMissouri Compromise. But something more was needed, or again, Lincolnwould refuse to negotiate. They met their crucial difficulty by boldlyappealing to the South to be satisfied with the conservation of itspresent life and renounce the dream of unlimited Southern expansion. Their Compromise proposed a death blow to the filibuster and all hestood for. It provided that no new territory other than naval stationsshould be acquired by the United States on either side the Missouri Linewithout consent of a majority of the Senators from the States on theopposite side of that line. (16)

As a solution of the sectional quarrel, to the extent that it had beendefinitely put into words, what could have been more astute? Lincolnhimself had said in the inaugural, "One section of our country believesslavery is right and ought to be extended; while the other believesit is wrong and ought not to be extended. That is the only substantialdispute. " In the same inaugural, he had pledged himself not to"interfere with the institution of slavery in the States where it nowexists;" and also had urged a vigorous enforcement of the FugitiveSlave Law. He never had approved of any sort of emancipation other thanpurchase or the gradual operation of economic conditions. It was wellknown that slavery could flourish only on fresh land amid prodigalagricultural methods suited to the most ignorant labor. The VirginiaCompromise, by giving to slavery a fixed area and abolishing its hopesof continual extensions into fresh land, was the virtual fulfillment ofLincoln's demand. 

The failure of the Virginia Compromise is one more proof that a greatdeal of vital history never gets into words until after it is over. During the second half of March, Unionists and Secessionists in theVirginia Convention debated with deep emotion this searching newproposal. The Unionists had a fatal weakness in their position. This wasthe feature of the situation that had not hitherto been put into words. Lincoln had not been accurate when he said that the slavery questionwas "the only substantial dispute. " He had taken for granted that theSouthern opposition to nationalism was not a real thing, --a mere deviceof the politicians to work up excitement. All the compromises he wasready to offer were addressed to that part of the South which wasseeking to make an issue on slavery. They had little meaning for thatother and more numerous part in whose thinking slavery was an incident. For this other South, the ideas which Lincoln as late as the middle ofMarch did not bring into play were the whole story. Lincoln, willing togive all sorts of guarantees for the noninterference with slavery, wouldnot give a single guarantee supporting the idea of State sovereigntyagainst the idea of the sovereign power of the national Union. TheVirginians, willing to go great lengths in making concessions withregard to slavery, would not go one inch in the way of admitting thattheir State was not a sovereign power included in the American Unionof its own free will, and not the legitimate subject of any sort ofcoercion. 

The Virginia Compromise was really a profound new complication. The verycare with which it divided the issue of nationality from the issueof slavery was a storm signal. For a thoroughgoing nationalist likeLincoln, deep perplexities lay hidden in this full disclosure of theissue that was vital to the moderate South. Lincoln's shifting of hismental ground, his perception that hitherto he had been oblivious of hismost formidable opponent, the one with whom compromise was impossible, occurred in the second half of the month. 

As always, Lincoln kept his own counsel upon the maturing of a purposein his own mind. He listened to every adviser--opening his office doorswithout reserve to all sorts and conditions--and silently, anxiously, struggled with himself for a decision. He watched Virginia; he watchedthe North; he listened--and waited. General Scott continued hopeless, though minor military men gave encouragement. And whom should thePresident trust-the tired old General who disagreed with him, or theeager young men who held views he would like to hold? Many a time he wasto ask himself that question during the years to come. 

On March twenty-ninth, he again consulted the Cabinet. (17) A great dealof water had run under the mill since they gave their opinions on Marchsixteenth. The voice of the people was still a bewildering roar, butout of that roar most of the Cabinet seemed to hear definite words. Theywere convinced that the North was veering toward a warlike mood. Thephrase "masterly inactivity, " which had been applied to the government'scourse admiringly a few weeks before, was now being appliedsatirically. Republican extremists were demanding action. A subtlebarometer was the Secretary of the Treasury. Now, as on the sixteenth, he craftily said something without saying it. After juggling the word"if, " he assumed his "if" to be a fact and concluded, "If war is tobe the result, I perceive no reason why it may not best be begun inconsequence of military resistance to the efforts of the Administrationto sustain troops of the Union, stationed under authority of thegovernment in a fort of the Union, in the ordinary course of service. "

This elaborate equivocation, which had all the force of an assertion, was Chase all over! Three other ministers agreed with him except thatthey did not equivocate. One evaded. Of all those who had stood withSeward on the sixteenth, only one was still in favor of evacuation. Seward stood fast. This reversal of the Cabinet's position, jumping asit did with Lincoln's desires, encouraged him to prepare for action. But just as he was about to act his diffidence asserted itself. Heauthorized the preparation of a relief expedition but withheld sailingorders until further notice. (18) Oh, for Seward's audacity; for theability to do one thing or another and take the consequences!

Seward had not foreseen this turn of events. He had little respect forthe rest of the Cabinet, and had still to discover that the President, for all his semblance of vacillation, was a great man. Seward wasundeniably vain. That the President with such a Secretary ofState should judge the strength of a Cabinet vote by countingnoses--preposterous! But that was just what this curiously simple-mindedPresident had done. If he went on in his weak, amiable way listening tothe time-servers who were listening to the bigots, what would become ofthe country? And of the Secretary of State and his deep policies? ThePresident must be pulled up short--brought to his senses--taught alesson or two. 

Seward saw that new difficulties had arisen in the course ofthat fateful March which those colleagues of his in theCabinet--well-meaning, inferior men, to be sure--had not the subtlety tocomprehend. Of course the matter of evacuation remained what it alwayshad been, the plain open road to an ultimate diplomatic triumph. Whobut a president out of the West, or a minor member of the Cabinet, wouldfail to see that! But there were two other considerations which, also, his well-meaning colleagues were failing to allow for. While all thistalk about the Virginia Unionists had been going on, while Washingtonand Richmond had been trying to negotiate, neither really had anycontrol of its own game. They were card players with all the trumps outof their hands. Montgomery, the Confederate Congress, held the trumps. At any minute it could terminate all this make-believe of diplomaticindependence, both at Washington and at Richmond. A few cannon shotsaimed at Sumter, the cry for revenge in the North, the inevitableprotest against coercion in Virginia, the convention blown into the air, and there you are--War!

And after all that, who knows what next? And yet, Blair and Chaseand the rest would not consent to slip Montgomery's trumps out of herhands--the easiest thing in the world to do!--by throwing Sumter intoher lap and thus destroying the pretext for the cannon shots. More thanever before, Seward would insist firmly on the evacuation of Sumter. 

But there was the other consideration, the really new turn of events. Suppose Sumter is evacuated; suppose Montgomery has lost her chance toforce Virginia into war by precipitating the issue of coercion, whatfollows? All along Seward had advocated a national convention toreadjust all the matters "in dispute between the sections. " But whatwould such a convention discuss? In his inaugural, Lincoln had advisedan amendment to the Constitution "to the effect that the Federalgovernment shall never interfere with the domestic institutions ofthe State, including that of persons held to service. " Very good! Theconvention might be expected to accept this, and after this, of course, there would come up the Virginia Compromise. Was it a practical scheme?Did it form a basis for drawing back into the Union the lower South?

Seward's whole thought upon this subject has never been disclosed. Itmust be inferred from the conclusion which he reached, which he putinto a paper entitled, Thoughts for the President's Consideration, andsubmitted to Lincoln, April first. 

The Thoughts outlined a scheme of policy, the most startling featureof which was an instant, predatory, foreign war. There are two clues tothis astounding proposal. One was a political maxim in which Seward hadunwavering faith. "A fundamental principle of politics, " he said, "isalways to be on the side of your country in a war. It kills any party tooppose a war. When Mr. Buchanan got up his Mormon War, our people, Wadeand Fremont, and The Tribune, led off furiously against it. I supportedit to the immense disgust of enemies and friends. If you want to sickenyour opponents with their own war, go in for it till they give itup. "(19) He was not alone among the politicians of his time, and someother times, in these cynical views. Lincoln has a story of a politicianwho was asked to oppose the Mexican War, and who replied, "I opposedone war; that was enough for me. I am now perpetually in favor of war, pestilence and famine. "

The second clue to Seward's new policy of international brigandage wasthe need, as he conceived it, to propitiate those Southern expansionistswho in the lower South at least formed so large a part of the politicalmachine, who must somehow be lured back into the Union; to whom theVirginia Compromise, as well as every other scheme of readjustment yetsuggested, offered no allurement. Like Lincoln defeating the CrittendenCompromise, like the Virginians planning the last compromise, Sewardremembered the filibusters and the dreams of the expansionists, annexation of Cuba, annexation of Nicaragua and all the rest, and helooked about for a way to reach them along that line. Chance hadplayed into his hands. Already Napoleon III had begun his ill-fatedinterference with the affairs of Mexico. A rebellion had just takenplace in San Domingo and Spain was supposed to have designs on theisland. Here, for any one who believed in predatory war as an infalliblelast recourse to rouse the patriotism of a country, were pretextsenough. Along with these would go a raging assertion of the MonroeDoctrine and a bellicose attitude toward other European powers on lesssubstantial grounds. And amid it all, between the lines of it all, couldnot any one glimpse a scheme for the expansion of the United Statessouthward? War with Spain over San Domingo! And who, pray, held theIsland of Cuba! And what might not a defeated Spain be willing to dowith Cuba? And if France were driven out of Mexico by our conqueringarms, did not the shadows of the future veil but dimly a grateful Mexicowhere American capital should find great opportunities? And would notSouthern capital in the nature of things, have a large share in all thatwas to come? Surely, granting Seward's political creed, remembering theproblem he wished to solve, there is nothing to be wondered at in hisproposal to Lincoln: "I would demand explanations from Spain and France, categorically, at once. " . . . And if satisfactory explanations were notreceived from Spain and France, "would convene Congress and declare waragainst them. "

His purpose, he said, was to change the question before the public, from one upon slavery, or about slavery, for a question upon Union orDisunion. Sumter was to be evacuated "as a safe means for changingthe issue, " but at the same time, preparations were to be made fora blockade of the Southern coast. (20) This extraordinary documentadministered mild but firm correction to the President. He was toldthat he had no policy, although under the circumstances, this was "notculpable"; that there must be a single head to the government; that thePresident, if not equal to the task, should devolve it upon some memberof the Cabinet. The Thoughts closed with these words, "I neither seek toevade nor assume responsibility. "

Like Seward's previous move, when he sent Weed to Springfield, thisother brought Lincoln to a point of crisis. For the second time he mustrender a decision that would turn the scale, that would have for hiscountry the force of destiny. In one respect he did not hesitate. Themost essential part of the Thoughts was the predatory spirit. Thisclashed with Lincoln's character. Serene unscrupulousness met unwaveringintegrity. Here was one of those subjects on which Lincoln was notasking advice. As to ways and means, he was pliable to a degree in thehands of richer and wider experience; as to principles, he was a rock. Seward's whole scheme of aggrandizement, his magnificent piracy, was calmly waved aside as a thing of no concern. The most strikingcharacteristic of Lincoln's reply was its dignity. He did not, indeed, lay bare his purposes. He was content to point out certaininconsistencies in Seward's argument; to protest that whatever actionmight be taken with regard to the single fortress, Sumter, the questionbefore the public could not be changed by that one event; and to saythat while he expected advice from all his Cabinet, he was none the lessPresident, and in last resort he would himself direct the policy of thegovernment. (21)

Only a strong man could have put up with the patronizing condescensionof the Thoughts and betrayed no irritation. Not a word in Lincoln'sreply gives the least hint that condescension had been displayed. Heis wholly unruffled, distant, objective. There is also a quiet tone offinality, almost the tone one might use in gently but firmly correctinga child. The Olympian impertinence of the Thoughts had struck out ofLincoln the first flash of that approaching masterfulness by means ofwhich he was to ride out successfully such furious storms. Seward wastoo much the man of the world not to see what had happened. He nevertouched upon the Thoughts again. Nor did Lincoln. The incident wassecret until Lincoln's secretaries twenty-five years afterward publishedit to the world. 

But Lincoln's lofty dignity on the first of April was of a moment only. When the Secretary of the Navy, Gideon Welles, that same day called onhim in his offices, he was the easy-going, jovial Lincoln who was alwaysready half-humorously to take reproof from subordinates--as was evincedby his greeting to the Secretary. Looking up from his writing, he saidcheerfully, "What have I done wrong?"(22) Gideon Welles was a pugnaciousman, and at that moment an angry man. There can be little doubt that hislips were tightly shut, that a stern frown darkened his brows. Grimlyconscientious was Gideon Welles, likewise prosaic; a masterpiece ofliteralness, the very opposite in almost every respect of the Secretaryof State whom he cordially detested. That he had already found occasionto protest against the President's careless mode of conducting businessmay be guessed--correctly--from the way he was received. Doubtless thevery cordiality, the whimsical admission of loose methods, irritatedthe austere Secretary. Welles had in his hand a communication datedthat same day and signed by the President, making radical changes in theprogram of the Navy Department. He had come to protest. 

"The President, " said Welles, "expressed as much surprise as I felt, that he had sent me such a document. He said that Mr. Seward with twoor three young men had been there during the day on a subject which he(Seward) had in hand and which he had been some time maturing; that itwas Seward's specialty, to which he, the President, had yielded, but asit involved considerable details, he had left Mr. Seward to preparethe necessary papers. These papers he had signed, many of them withoutreading, for he had not time, and if he could not trust the Secretary ofState, he knew not whom he could trust. I asked who were associated withMr. Seward. 'No one, ' said the President, 'but these young men who werehere as clerks to write down his plans and orders. ' Most of the work wasdone, he said, in the other room. 

"The President reiterated that they (the changes in the Navy) were nothis instructions, though signed by him; that the paper was an improperone; that he wished me to give it no more consideration than I thoughtproper; to treat it as cancelled, or as if it had never been written. Icould get no satisfactory explanation from the President of the originof this strange interference which mystified him and which he censuredand condemned more severely than myself. . . . Although very muchdisturbed by the disclosure, he was anxious to avoid difficulty, and toshield Mr. Seward, took to himself the whole blame. "

Thus Lincoln began a role that he never afterward abandoned. It was therole of scapegoat Whatever went wrong anywhere could always be loadedupon the President. He appeared to consider it a part of his duty tobe the scapegoat for the whole Administration. It was his way ofmaintaining trust, courage, efficiency, among his subordinates. 

Of those papers which he had signed without reading on April first, Lincoln was to hear again in still more surprising fashion six daysthereafter. 

He was now at the very edge of his second crucial decision. Though thenaval expedition was in preparation, he still hesitated over issuingorders to sail. The reply to the Thoughts had not committed him to anyspecific line of conduct. What was it that kept him wavering at thiseleventh hour? Again, that impenetrable taciturnity which alwaysshrouded his progress toward a conclusion, forbids dogmatic assertion. But two things are obvious: his position as a minority president, ofwhich he was perhaps unduly conscious, caused him to delay, and to delayagain and again, seeking definite evidence how much support he couldcommand in the North; the change in his comprehension of the problembefore him-his perception that it was not an "artificial crisis"involving slavery alone, but an irreconcilable clash of social-politicalidealism--this disturbed his spirit, distressed, even appalled him. Having a truer insight into human nature than Seward had, he saw thathere was an issue immeasurably less susceptible of compromise than wasslavery. Whether, the moment he perceived this, he at once lost hope ofany peaceable solution, we do not know. Just what he thought about theVirginia Compromise is still to seek. However, the nature of his mind, the way it went straight to the human element in a problem once his eyeswere opened to the problem's reality, forbid us to conclude that hetook hope from Virginia. He now saw what, had it not been for his nearhorizon, he would have seen so long before, that, in vulgar parlance, hehad been "barking up the wrong tree. " Now that he had located the righttree, had the knowledge come too late?

It is known that Seward, possibly at Lincoln's request, made an attemptto bring together the Virginia Unionists and the Administration. He senta special representative to Richmond urging the despatch of a committeeto confer with the President. 

The strength of the party in the Convention was shown on April fourthwhen a proposed Ordinance of Secession was voted down, eighty-nine toforty-five. On the same day, the Convention by a still larger majorityformally denied the right of the Federal government to coerce a State. Two days later, John B. Baldwin, representing the Virginia Unionists, had a confidential talk with Lincoln. Only fragments of their talk, drawn forth out of memory long afterward--some of the reporting beingat second hand, the recollections of the recollections of theparticipants--are known to exist. The one fact clearly discernible isthat Baldwin stated fully the Virginia position: that her Unionistswere not nationalists; that the coercion of any State, by impugningthe sovereignty of all, would automatically drive Virginia out of theUnion. (23)

Lincoln had now reached his decision. The fear that had dogged him allalong--the fear that in evacuating Sumter he would be giving somethingfor nothing, that "it would discourage the friends of the Union, embolden its adversaries"--was in possession of his will. One may hazardthe guess that this fear would have determined Lincoln sooner thanit did, except for the fact that the Secretary of State, despite hisfaults, was so incomparably the strongest personality in the Cabinet. We have Lincoln's own word for the moment and the detail that formedthe very end of his period of vacillation. All along he had intended torelieve and hold Fort Pickens, off the coast of Florida. To this, Sewardsaw no objection. In fact, he urged the relief of Pickens, hoping, ascompensation, to get his way about Sumter. Assuming as he did that theSouthern leaders were opportunists, he believed that they would notmake an issue over Pickens, merely because it had not in the publiceye become a political symbol. Orders had been sent to a squadron inSouthern waters to relieve Pickens. Early in April news was received atWashington that the attempt had failed due to misunderstandingsamong the Federal commanders. Fearful that Pickens was about to fall, reasoning that whatever happened he dared not lose both forts, Lincolnbecame peremptory on the subject of the Sumter expedition. This was onApril sixth. On the night of April sixth, Lincoln's signatures to theunread despatches of the first of April, came home to roost. Andat last, Welles found out what Seward was doing on the day of AllFools. (24)

While the Sumter expedition was being got ready, still without sailingorders, a supplemental expedition was also preparing for the relief ofPickens. This was the business that Seward was contriving, that Lincolnwould not explain, on April first. The order interfering with the NavyDepartment was designed to checkmate the titular head of the department. Furthermore, Seward had had the amazing coolness to assume that Lincolnwould certainly accept his Thoughts and that the simple President neednot hereinafter be consulted about details. He aimed to circumventWelles and to make sure that the Sumter expedition, whether sailingorders were issued or not, should be rendered innocuous. The warshipPowhatan, which was being got ready for sea at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, was intended by Welles for the Sumter expedition. One of those unreaddespatches signed by Lincoln, assigned it to the Pickens expedition. When the sailing orders from Welles were received, the commander of theSumter fleet claimed the Powhatan. The Pickens commander refused togive it up. The latter telegraphed Seward that his expedition was "beingretarded and embarrassed" by "conflicting" orders from Welles. Theresult was a stormy conference between Seward and Welles which wasadjourned to the White House and became a conference with Lincoln. Andthen the whole story came out. Lincoln played the scapegoat, "took thewhole blame upon himself, said it was carelessness, heedlessness on hispart; he ought to have been more careful and attentive. " But he insistedon immediate correction of his error, on the restoration of the Powhatanto the Sumter fleet. Seward struggled hard for his plan. Lincoln wasinflexible. As Seward had directed the preparation of the Pickensexpedition, Lincoln required him to telegraph to Brooklyn the change inorders. Seward, beaten by his enemy Welles, was deeply chagrined. Inhis agitation he forgot to be formal, forgot that the previous orderhad gone out in the President's name, and wired curtly, "Give up thePowhatan. Seward. "

This despatch was received just as the Pickens expedition was sailing. The commander of the Powhatan had now before him, three orders. Naturally, he held that the one signed by the President took precedenceover the others. He went on his way, with his great warship, to Florida. The Sumter expedition sailed without any powerful ship of war. In thisstrange fashion, chance executed Seward's design. 

Lincoln had previously informed the Governor of South Carolina that duenotice would be given, should he decide to relieve Sumter. Word was nowsent that "an attempt will be made to supply Fort Sumter with provisionsonly; and that if such attempt be not resisted, no effort to throw inmen, arms or ammunition will be made without further notice, or in caseof an attack upon the fort. "(25) Though the fleet was not intended tooffer battle, it was supposed to be strong enough to force its way intothe harbor, should the relief of Sumter be opposed. But the power to doso was wholly conditioned on the presence in its midst of the Powhatan. And the Powhatan was far out to sea on its way to Florida. 

And now it was the turn of the Confederate government to confront acrisis. It, no less than Washington, had passed through a period ofdisillusion. The assumption upon which its chief politicians had builtso confidently had collapsed. The South was not really a unit. It wasnot true that the secession of any one State, on any sort of issue, would compel automatically the secession of all the Southern States. North Carolina had exploded this illusion. Virginia had exploded it. The South could not be united on the issue of slavery; it could not beunited on the issue of sectional dread. It could be united on butone issue-State sovereignty, the denial of the right of the FederalGovernment to coerce a State. The time had come to decide whether thecannon at Charleston should fire. As Seward had foreseen, Montgomeryheld the trumps; but had Montgomery the courage to play them? Therewas a momentous debate in the Confederate Cabinet. Robert Toombs, theSecretary of State, whose rapid growth in comprehension since Decemberformed a parallel to Lincoln's growth, threw his influence on the sideof further delay. He would not invoke that "final argument of kings, "the shotted cannon. "Mr. President, " he exclaimed, "at this time, it issuicide, murder, and will lose us every friend at the North. You willinstantly strike a hornet's nest which extends from mountain to ocean, and legions now quiet will swarm out and sting us to death. It isunnecessary; it puts us in the wrong; it is fatal. " But Toombs stoodalone in the Cabinet. Orders were sent to Charleston to reduce FortSumter. Before dawn, April twelfth, the first shot was fired. The flagof the United States was hauled down on the afternoon of the thirteenth. Meanwhile the relieving fleet had arrived--without the Powhatan. Bereftof its great ship, it could not pass the harbor batteries and assist thefort. Its only service was to take off the garrison which by the termsof surrender was allowed to withdraw. On the fourteenth, Sumter wasevacuated and the inglorious fleet sailed back to the northward. 

Lincoln at once accepted the gage of battle. On the fifteenthappeared his proclamation calling for an army of seventy-five thousandvolunteers. Automatically, the upper South fulfilled its unhappydestiny. Challenged at last, on the irreconcilable issue, Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Arkansas, seceded. The final argument ofkings was the only one remaining. 

XVI "ON TO RICHMOND!"

It has been truly said that the Americans are an unmilitary but anintensely warlike nation. Seward's belief that a war fury would sweepthe country at the first cannon shot was amply justified. Both North andSouth appeared to rise as one man, crying fiercely to be led to battle. 

The immediate effect on Washington had not been foreseen. That historicclash at Baltimore between the city's mob and the Sixth Massachusetts enroute to the capital, was followed by an outburst of secession feelingin Maryland; by an attempt to isolate Washington from the North. Railwaytracks were torn up; telegraph wires were cut. During several daysLincoln was entirely ignorant of what the North was doing. Was there anefficient general response to his call for troops? Or was precious timebeing squandered in preparation? Was it conceivable that the war furywas only talk? Looking forth from the White House, he was a prisoner ofthe horizon; an impenetrable mystery, it shut the capital in a ring ofsilence all but intolerable. Washington assumed the air of a beleagueredcity. General Scott hastily drew in the small forces which thegovernment had maintained in Maryland and Virginia. Government employeesand loyal Washingtonians were armed and began to drill. The White Housebecame a barracks. "Jim Lane, " writes delightful John Hay in his diary, which is always cool, rippling, sunny, no matter how acute the crisis, "Jim Lane marshalled his Kansas warriors today at Williard's; tonight(they are in) the East Room. "(1) Hay's humor brightens the tragic hour. He felt it his duty to report to Lincoln a "yarn" that had been told tohim by some charming women who had insisted on an interview; they hadheard from "a dashing Virginian" that inside forty-eight hours somethingwould happen which would ring through the world. The ladies thought thismeant the capture or assassination of the President. "Lincoln quietlygrinned. " But Hay who plainly enjoyed the episode, charming women andall, had got himself into trouble. He had to do "some very dexterouslying to calm the awakened fears of Mrs. Lincoln in regard to theassassination suspicion. " Militia were quartered in the Capitol, andPennsylvania Avenue was a drill ground. At the President's reception, the distinguished politician C. C. Clay, "wore with a sublimelyunconscious air three pistols and an 'Arkansas toothpick, ' and lookedlike an admirable vignette to twenty-five cents' worth of yellow coveredromance. "

But Hay's levity was all of the surface. Beneath it was intense anxiety. General Scott reported that the Virginia militia, concentrating aboutWashington, were a formidable menace, though he thought he was strongenough to hold out until relief should come. As the days passed andnothing appeared upon that inscrutable horizon while the telegraphremained silent, Lincoln became moodily distressed. One afternoon, "thebusiness of the day being over, the executive office deserted, afterwalking the floor alone in silent thought for nearly a half-hour, hestopped and gazed long and wistfully out of the window down the Potomacin the direction of the expected ships (bringing soldiers from NewYork); and unconscious of other presence in the room, at length brokeout with irrepressible anguish in the repeated exclamation, 'Why don'tthey come! Why don't they come!'"(2)

His unhappiness flashed into words while he was visiting thoseMassachusetts soldiers who had been wounded on their way to Washington. "I don't believe there is any North. . . " he exclaimed. "You are theonly Northern realities. "(3) But even then relief was at hand. TheSeventh New York, which had marched down Broadway amid such an ovationas never before was given any regiment in America, had come by seato Annapolis. At noon on April twenty-fifth, it reached Washingtonbringing, along with the welcome sight of its own bayonets, the newsthat the North had risen, that thousands more were on the march. 

Hay who met them at the depot went at once to report to Lincoln. Alreadythe President had reacted to a "pleasant, hopeful mood. " He beganoutlining a tentative plan of action: blockade, maintenance of thesafety of Washington, holding Fortress Monroe, and then to "go down toCharleston and pay her the little debt we are owing there. "(4) But thiswas an undigested plan. It had little resemblance to any of his laterplans. And immediately the chief difficulties that were to embarrassall his plans appeared. He was a minority President; and he was theExecutive of a democracy. Many things were to happen; many mistakeswere to be made; many times the piper was to be paid, ere Lincoln feltsufficiently sure of his support to enforce a policy of his own, defiantof opposition. Throughout the spring of 1861 his imperative need was tosecure the favor of the Northern mass, to shape his policy with thatend in view. At least, in his own mind, this seemed to be his paramountobligation. And so it was in the minds of his advisers. Lincoln wasstill in the pliable mood which was his when he entered office, whichcontinued to be in evidence, except for sudden momentary disappearanceswhen a different Lincoln flashed an instant into view, until anotheryear and more had gone by. Still he felt himself the apprentice handpainfully learning the trade of man of action. Still he was deeplysensitive to advice. 

And what advice did the country give him? There was one roaring shoutdinning into his ears all round the Northern horizon-"On to Richmond!"Following Virginia's secession, Richmond had become the Confederatecapital. It was expected that a session of the Confederate Congresswould open at Richmond in July. "On to Richmond! Forward to Richmond!"screamed The Tribune. "The Rebel Congress must not be allowed to meetthere on the 20th of July. By that date the place must be held by thenational army. " The Times advised the resignation of the Cabinet; itwarned the President that if he did not give prompt satisfaction hewould be superseded. Though Lincoln laughed at the threat of TheTimes to "depose" him, he took very seriously all the swiftlyaccumulating evidence that the North was becoming rashly impatientNewspaper correspondents at Washington talked to his secretaries"impertinently. "(5) Members of Congress, either carried away by theexcitement of the hour or with slavish regard to the hysteria of theirconstituents, thronged to Washington clamoring for action. On purelypolitical grounds, if on no other, they demanded an immediate advanceinto Virginia. Military men looked with irritation, if not withcontempt, on all this intemperate popular fury. That grim Sherman, who had been offended by Lincoln's tone the month previous, put theirfeeling into words. Declining the offer of a position in the WarDepartment, he wrote that he wished "the Administration all success inits almost impossible task of governing this distracted and anarchialpeople. "(6)

In the President's councils, General Scott urged delay, and thegathering of the volunteers into camps of instruction, their deliberatetransformation into a genuine army. So inadequate were the resources ofthe government; so loose and uncertain were the militia organizationswhich were attempting to combine into an army; such discrepanciesappeared between the nominal and actual strength of commands, betweenthe places where men were supposed to be and the places where theyactually were; that Lincoln in his droll way compared the process ofmobilization to shoveling a bushel of fleas across a barn floor. (7) Fromthe military point of view it was no time to attempt an advance. Againstthe military argument, three political arguments loomed dark in theminds of the Cabinet; there was the clamor of the Northern majority;there were the threats of the politicians who were to assemble inCongress, July fourth; there was the term of service of the volunteerswhich had been limited by the proclamation to three months. Late inJune, the Cabinet decided upon the political course, overruled themilitary advisers, and gave its voice for an immediate advance intoVirginia. Lincoln accepted this rash advice. Scott yielded. GeneralIrwin McDowell was ordered to strike a Confederate force that hadassembled at Manassas. (8) On the fourth of July, the day Congress met, the government made use of a coup de theatre. It held a review of whatwas then considered a "grand army" of twenty-five thousand men. A fewdays later, the sensibilities of the Congressmen were further exploited. Impressionable members were "deeply moved, " when the same host inmarching order passed again through the city and wheeled southwardtoward Virginia. Confident of victory, the Congressmen spent these daysin high debate upon anything that took their fancy. When, a fortnightlater, it was known that a battle was imminent, many of them treated theOccasion as a picnic. They took horses, or hired vehicles, and awaythey went southward for a jolly outing on the day the Confederacy wasto collapse. In the mind of the unfortunate General who commanded theexpedition a different mood prevailed. In depression, he said to afriend, "This is not an army. It will take a long time to make an army. But his duty as a soldier forbade him to oppose his superiors; thepoor fellow could not proclaim his distrust of his army in public. "(9)Thoughtful observers at Washington felt danger in the air, both militaryand political. 

Sunday, July twenty-first, dawned clear. It was the day of theexpected battle. A noted Englishman, setting out for the front as warcorrespondent of the London Times, observed "the calmness and silenceof the streets of Washington, this early morning. " After crossing thePotomac, he felt that "the promise of a lovely day given by the earlydawn was likely to be realized to the fullest"; and "the placid beautyof the scenery as we drove through the woods below Arlington" delightedhim. And then about nine o'clock his thoughts abandoned the scenery. Through those beautiful Virginia woods came the distant roar of cannon. 

At the White House that day there was little if any alarm. Reportsreceived at various times were construed by military men as favorable. These, with the rooted preconception that the army had to be successful, established confidence in a victory before nightfall. Late in theafternoon, the President relieved his tension by taking a drive. He hadnot returned when, about six o'clock, Seward appeared and asked hoarselywhere he was. The secretaries told him. He begged them to find thePresident as quickly as possible. "Tell no one, " said he, "but thebattle is lost. The army is in full retreat. "

The news of the rout at Bull Run did not spread through Washington untilclose to midnight. It caused an instantaneous panic. In the small hours, the space before the Treasury was "a moving mass of humanity. Everyman seemed to be asking every man he met for the latest news, while allsorts of rumors filled the air. A feeling of mingled horror and despairappeared to possess everybody. . . . Our soldiers came straggling intothe city covered with dust and many of them wounded, while the panicthat led to the disaster spread like a contagion through all classes. "The President did not share the panic. He "received the news quietlyand without any visible sign of perturbation or excitement"'(10) Nowappeared in him the quality which led Herndon to call him a fatalist. All night long he sat unruffled in his office, while refugees fromthe stricken field--especially those overconfident Senators andRepresentatives who had gone out to watch the overthrow of theConfederates--poured into his ears their various and conflictingaccounts of the catastrophe. During that long night Lincoln said almostnothing. Meanwhile, fragments of the routed army continued to streaminto the city. At dawn the next day Washington was possessed by a swarmof demoralized soldiers while a dreary rain settled over it. 

The silent man in the White House had forgotten for the moment hisdependence upon his advisers. While the runaway Senators were talkingthemselves out, while the rain was sheeting up the city, he hadreached two conclusions. Early in the morning, he formulated both. Oneconclusion was a general outline for the conduct of a long war in whichthe first move should be a call for volunteers to serve three years. (11)The other conclusion was the choice of a conducting general. Scott wastoo old. McDowell had failed. But there was a young officer, a WestPointer, who had been put in command of the Ohio militia, who hadentered the Virginia mountains from the West, had engaged a small forcethere, and had won several small but rather showy victories. Young ashe was, he had served in the Mexican War and was supposed to be highlyaccomplished. On the day following Bull Run, Lincoln ordered McClellanto Washington to take command. (12)

XVII. DEFINING THE ISSUE

While these startling events were taking place in the months betweenSumter and Bull Run, Lincoln passed through a searching intellectualexperience. The reconception of his problem, which took place in March, necessitated a readjustment of his political attitude. He had preparedhis arsenal for the use of a strategy now obviously beside the mark. Thevital part of the first inaugural was its attempt to cut the groundfrom under the slave profiteers. Its assertion that nothing else wasimportant, the idea that the crisis was "artificial, " was sincere. Twodiscoveries had revolutionized Lincoln's thought. The discoverythat what the South was in earnest about was not slavery but Statesovereignty; the discovery that the North was far from a unit uponnationalism. To meet the one, to organize the other, was the double taskprecipitated by the fall of Sumter. Not only as a line of attack, butalso as a means of defense, Lincoln had to raise to its highest powerthe argument for the sovereign reality of the national government. Theeffort to do this formed the silent inner experience behind the surgingexternal events in the stormy months between April and July. It wasgoverned by a firmness not paralleled in his outward course. As always, Lincoln the thinker asked no advice. It was Lincoln the administrator, painfully learning a new trade, who was timid, wavering, pliable incouncil. Behind the apprentice in statecraft, the lonely thinker stoodapart, inflexible as ever, impervious to fear. The thinking whichhe formulated in the late spring and early summer of 1861 obeyed hisinvariable law of mental gradualness. It arose out of the deep placesof his own past. He built up his new conclusion by drawing togetherconclusions he had long held, by charging them with his laterexperience, by giving to them a new turn, a new significance. 

Lincoln's was one of those natures in which ideas have to become latentbefore they can be precipitated by outward circumstance into definiteform. Always with him the idea that was to become powerful at a crisiswas one that he had long held in solution, that had permeatedhim without his formulating it, that had entwined itself with hisheartstrings; never was it merely a conscious act of the logicalfaculty. His characteristics as a lawyer--preoccupation with basalideas, with ethical significance, with those emotions which form theultimates of life--these always determined his thought. His idea ofnationalism was a typical case. He had always believed in the reality ofthe national government as a sovereign fact. But he had thought littleabout it; rather he had taken it for granted. It was so close to hisdesire that he could not without an effort acknowledge the sincerityof disbelief in it. That was why he was so slow in forming a truecomprehension of the real force opposing him. Disunion had appearedto him a mere device of party strategy. That it was grounded upon agenuine, a passionate conception of government, one irreconcilable withhis own, struck him, when at last he grasped it, as a deep offense. Theliterary statesman sprang again to life. He threw all the strength ofhis mind, the peculiar strength that had made him president, into astatement of the case for nationalism. 

His vehicle for publishing his case was the first message toCongress. (1) It forms an amazing contrast with the first inaugural. The argument over slavery that underlies the whole of the inaugural hasvanished. The message does not mention slavery. From the first word tothe last, it is an argument for the right of the central government toexercise sovereign power, and for the duty of the American people--togive their lives for the Union. No hint of compromise; nought of thecautious and conciliatory tone of the inaugural. It is the blast of atrumpet--a war trumpet. It is the voice of a stern mind confronting anadversary that arouses in him no sympathy, no tolerance even, much lessany thought of concession. Needless to insist that this adversary isan idea. Toward every human adversary, Lincoln was always unbelievablytender. Though little of a theologian, he appreciated intuitivelysome metaphysical ideas; he projected into politics the philosopher'sdistinction between sin and the sinner. For all his hatred of the ideaswhich he held to be treason, he never had a vindictive impulse directedtoward the men who accepted those ideas. Destruction for the idea, infinite clemency for the person--such was his attitude. 

It was the idea of disunion, involving as he believed, a misconceptionof the American government, and by implication, a misconception of thetrue function of all governments everywhere, against which he declared awar without recourse. 

The basis of his argument reaches back to his oration on Clay, tohis assertion that Clay loved his country, partly because it was hiscountry, even more because it was a free country. This idea ranthrough Lincoln's thinking to the end. There was in him a suggestionof internationalism. At the full height of his power, in his completematurity as a political thinker, he said that the most sacred bond inlife should be the brotherhood of the workers of all nations. No wordsof his are more significant than his remarks to passing soldiers in1863, such as, "There is more involved in this contest than is realizedby every one. There is involved in this struggle the question whetheryour children and my children shall enjoy the privileges we haveenjoyed. " And again, "I happen temporarily to occupy this White House. Iam a living witness that any one of your children may look to come hereas my father's child has. "(2)

This idea, the idea that the "plain people" are the chief concern ofgovernment was the bed rock of all his political thinking. The mature, historic Lincoln is first of all a leader of the plain people--of themass--as truly as was Cleon, or Robespierre, or Andrew Jackson. Hisgentleness does not remove him from that stern category. The latentfanaticism that is in every man, or almost every man, was grounded inLincoln, on his faith--so whimsically expressed--that God must haveloved the plain people because he had made so many of them. (3) The basalappeal of the first message was in the words:

"This is essentially a people's contest. On the side of the Union itis a struggle for maintaining in the world that form and substance ofgovernment whose leading object is to elevate the condition of men;to lift artificial weights from all shoulders; to clear the paths oflaudable pursuit for all; to afford all an unfettered start and a fairchance in the race of life. "(4) Not a war over slavery, not a war topreserve a constitutional system, but a war to assert and maintain thesovereignty of--"We, the People. "

But how was it to be proved that this was, in fact, the true issue ofthe moment? Here, between the lines of the first message, Lincoln'sdeepest feelings are to be glimpsed. Out of the discovery that Virginiahonestly believed herself a sovereign power, he had developed in himselfa deep, slow-burning fervor that probably did much toward fusing himinto the great Lincoln of history. But why? What was there in thatidea which should strike so deep? Why was it not merely one view in apermissible disagreement over the interpretation of the Constitution?Why did the cause of the people inspire its champion to regard thedoctrine of State sovereignty as anti-christ? Lincoln has not revealedhimself on these points in so many words. But he has revealed himselfplainly enough by implication. 

The clue is in that element of internationalism which lay at the back ofhis mind. There must be no misunderstanding of this element. It was notpointing along the way of the modern "international. " Lincoln would havefought Bolshevism to the death. Side by side with his assertion of thesanctity of the international bond of labor, stands his assertion ofa sacred right in property and that capital is a necessity. (5) Hisinternationalism was ethical, not opportunistic. It grew, as allhis ideas grew, not out of a theorem, not from a constitutionalinterpretation, but from his overpowering commiseration for the massof mankind. It was a practical matter. Here were poor people to beassisted, to be enriched in their estate, to be enlarged in spirit. Themode of reaching the result was not the thing. Any mode, all sorts ofmodes, might be used. What counted was the purpose to work relief, andthe willingness to throw overboard whatever it might be that tended todefeat the purpose. His internationalism was but a denial of "my countryright or wrong. " There can be little doubt that, in last resort, hewould have repudiated his country rather than go along with it inopposition to what he regarded as the true purpose of government. Andthat was, to advance the welfare of the mass of mankind. 

He thought upon this subject in the same manner in which he thought asa lawyer, sweeping aside everything but what seemed to him the ethicalreality at the heart of the case. For him the "right" of a State to dothis or that was a constitutional question only so long as it did notcross that other more universal "right, " the paramount "charter ofliberty, " by which, in his view, all other rights were conditioned. Hewould impose on all mankind, as their basic moral obligation, the dutyto sacrifice all personal likes, personal ambitions, when these in theirpermanent tendencies ran contrary to the tendency which he rated asparamount. Such had always been, and was always to continue, his ownattitude toward slavery. No one ever loathed it more. But he neverpermitted it to take the first place in his thoughts. If it couldbe eradicated without in the process creating dangers for populargovernment he would rejoice. But all the schemes of the Abolitionists, hitherto, he had condemned as dangerous devices because they wouldstrain too severely the fabric of the popular state, would violateagreements which alone made it possible. Therefore, being alwaysrelentless toward himself, he required of himself the renunciation ofthis personal hope whenever, in whatever way, it threatened to make lesseffective the great democratic state which appeared to him the centralfact of the world. 

The enlargement of his reasoning led him inevitably to an unsparingcondemnation of the Virginian theory. One of his rare flashes ofirritation was an exclamation that Virginia loyalty always had an"if. "(6) At this point, to make him entirely plain, there is neededanother basic assumption which he has never quite formulated. However, it is so obviously latent in his thinking that the main lines are to bemade out clearly enough. Building ever on that paramount obligationof all mankind to consider first the welfare of God's plain people, heassumed that whenever by any course of action any congregation of menwere thrown together and led to form any political unit, they were neverthereafter free to disregard in their attitude toward that unit itsvalue in supporting and advancing the general cause of the welfare ofthe plain people. A sweeping, and in some contingencies, a terribledoctrine! Certainly, as to individuals, classes, communities even, adoctrine that might easily become destructive. But it formed the basisof all Lincoln's thought about the "majority" in America. Upon itwould have rested his reply, had he ever made a reply, to the Virginiacontention that while his theory might apply to each individual State, it could not apply to the group of States. He would have treated sucha reply, whether fairly or unfairly, as a legal technicality. He wouldhave said in substance: here is a congregation to be benefited, thisgreat mass of all the inhabitants of all the States of the Union;accident, or destiny, or what you will, has brought them together, buthere they are; they are moving forward, haltingly, irregularly, butsteadily, toward fuller and fuller democracy; they are part ofthe universal democratic movement; their vast experiment has aninternational significance; it is the hope of the "Liberal partythroughout the world"; to check that experiment, to break it intoSeparate minor experiments; to reduce the imposing promise of itsexample by making it seem unsuccessful, would be treason to mankind. Therefore, both on South and North, both on the Seceders he meant tofight and on those Northerners of whom he was not entirely sure, heaimed to impose the supreme immediate duty of proving to the world thatdemocracy on a great scale could have sufficient vitality to maintainitself against any sort of attack. Anticipating faintly the Gettysburgoration, the first message contained these words: "And this issueembraces more than the fate of these United States. It presents to thewhole family of man the question whether a constitutional republic, ordemocracy--a government of the people by the same people--can or cannot maintain its integrity against its own domestic foes. . . . Must agovernment of necessity be too strong for the liberties of its peopleor too weak to maintain its own existence?"(7) He told Hay that "thecrucial idea pervading this struggle is the necessity that is upon usto prove that popular government is not an absurdity"; "that the basalissue was whether or no the people could govern themselves. "(8)

But all this elaborate reasoning, if it went no further, lackedauthority. It was political speculation. To clothe itself with authorityit had to discover a foundation in historic fact. The real difficultywas not what ought to have been established in America in the past, but what actually had been. Where was the warrant for those boldproposition--who "we, the people, " really were; in what their sovereignpower really consisted; what was history's voice in the matter? To statean historic foundation was the final aim of the message. To hit its markit had to silence those Northerners who denied the obligation to fightfor the Union; it had to oppose their "free love" ideas of politicalunity with the conception of an established historic government, onewhich could not be overthrown except through the nihilistic processof revolution. So much has been written upon the exact location ofsovereignty in the American federal State that it is difficult to escapethe legalistic attitude, and to treat the matter purely as history. Sovarious, so conflicting, and at times so tenuous, are the theories, that a flippant person might be forgiven did he turn from the wholediscussion saying impatiently it was blind man's buff. But on one thing, at least, we must all agree. Once there was a king over this country, and now there is no king. Once the British Crown was the sovereign, andnow the Crown has receded into the distance beyond the deep blue sea. When the Crown renounced its sovereignty in America, what became of it?Did it break into fragments and pass peacemeal to the various revoltedcolonies? Was it transferred somehow to the group collectively? Theseare the obvious theories; but there are others. And the others giverise to subtler speculations. Who was it that did the actual revoltingagainst the Crown--colonies, parties, individuals, the whole Americanpeople, who?

Troublesome questions these, with which Lincoln and the men of his timedid not deal in the spirit of historical science. Their wishes fatheredtheir thoughts. Southerners, practically without exception, heldthe theory of the disintegration of the Crown's prerogative, itsdistribution among the States. The great leaders of Northern thoughtrepudiated the idea. Webster and Clay would have none of it. Buttheir own theories were not always consistent; and they differedamong themselves. Lincoln did the natural thing. He fastened upon thetendencies in Northern thought that supported his own faith. Chief amongthese was the idea that sovereignty passed to the general congregationof the inhabitants of the colonies--"we, the people"--because we, thepeople, were the real power that supported the revolt. He had acceptedthe idea that the American Revolution was an uprising of the people, that its victory was in a transfer of sovereign rights from an EnglishCrown to an American nation; that a new collective state, the Union, wascreated by this nation as the first act of the struggle, and that it wasto the Union that the Crown succumbed, to the Union that its prerogativepassed. To put this idea in its boldest and its simplest terms was thecrowning effort of the message. 

"The States have their status in the Union and they have no other legalstatus. If they break from this, they can only do so against law andby revolution. The Union, and not themselves separately, procured theirindependence and their liberty. By conquest or purchase, the Union gaveeach of them whatever of independence and liberty it has. The Union isolder than any of the States, and in fact, it created them as States. Originally some dependent colonies made the Union, and in turn, theUnion threw off this old dependence for them and made them States, suchas they are. "(9)

This first message completes the evolution of Lincoln as a politicalthinker. It is his third, his last great landmark. The Peoria speech, which drew to a focus all the implications of his early life, laid thebasis of his political significance; the Cooper Union speech, summingup his conflict with Douglas, applied his thinking to the new issueprecipitated by John Brown; but in both these he was still predominantlya negative thinker, still the voice of an opposition. With the firstmessage, he became creative; he drew together what was latent in hisearlier thought; he discarded the negative; he laid the foundation ofall his subsequent policy. The breadth and depth of his thinking isrevealed by the fulness with which the message develops the implicationsof his theory. In so doing, he anticipated the main issues that were tofollow: his determination to keep nationalism from being narrowed intomere "Northernism"; his effort to create an all-parties government; hisstubborn insistence that he was suppressing an insurrection, not wagingexternal war; his doctrine that the Executive, having been chosen by theentire people, was the one expression of the sovereignty of the people, and therefore, the repository of all these exceptional "war powers" thatare dormant in time of peace. Upon each of those issues he was destinedto wage fierce battles with the politicians who controlled Congress, whosought to make Congress his master, who thwarted, tormented and almostdefeated him. In the light of subsequent history the first message hasanother aspect besides its significance as political science. In itsclear understanding of the implications of his attitude, it attainspolitical second sight. As Lincoln, immovable, gazes far into thefuture, his power of vision makes him, yet again though in a widelydifferent sense, the "seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance. "

His troubles with Congress began at once. The message was received onJuly fourth, politely, but with scant response to its ideas. Duringtwo weeks, while Congress in its fatuousness thought that the battleimpending in Virginia would settle things, the majority in Congresswould not give assent to Lincoln's view of what the war was about. Andthen came Bull Run. In a flash the situation changed. Fatuousness waspuffed out like a candle in a wind. The rankest extremist saw thatCongress must cease from its debates and show its hand; must say whatthe war was about; must inform the nation whether it did or did notagree with the President. 

On the day following Bull Run, Crittenden introduced this resolution:"That the present, deplorable civil war has been forced upon the countryby the Disunionists of the Southern States, now in arms against theconstitutional government, and in arms around the capital; that in thisnational emergency, Congress, banishing all feelings of mere passion andresentment, will recollect only its duty to the whole country; that thiswar is not waged on their part in any spirit of oppression or forany purpose of conquest or subjugation, or purpose of overthrowing orinterfering with the rights or established institutions of these States, but to defend and maintain the supremacy of the Constitution, and topreserve the Union, with all the dignity, equality, and rights ofthe several States unimpaired; and that as soon as these objects areaccomplished, the war ought to cease. " This Crittenden Resolution waspassed instantly by both Houses, without debate and almost withoutopposition. (10)

Paradoxically, Bull Run had saved the day for Lincoln, had enabled himto win his first victory as a statesman. 

XVIII. THE JACOBIN CLUB

The keen Englishman who had observed the beauty of the Virginian woodson "Bull Run Sunday, " said, after the battle was lost, "I hope SenatorWilson is satisfied. " He was sneering at the whole group of intemperateSenators none of whom had ever smelled powder, but who knew it all whenit came to war; who had done their great share in driving the Presidentand the generals into a premature advance. Senator Wilson was one ofthose who went out to Manassas to see the Confederacy overthrown, thatfateful Sunday. He was one of the most precipitate among those who fledback to Washington. On the way, driving furiously, amid a press of menand vehicles, he passed a carriage containing four Congressmen who weretaking their time. Perhaps irritated by their coolness, he shouted tothem to make haste. "If we were in as big a hurry as you are, " repliedCongressman Riddle, scornfully, "we would. "

These four Congressmen played a curiously dramatic part before they gotback to Washington. So did a party of Senators with whom they joinedforces. This other party, at the start, also numbered four. They hadplanned a jolly picnic--this day that was to prove them right inhurrying the government into battle!--and being wise men who knew howto take time by the forelock, they had taken their luncheon with them. From what is known of Washington and Senators, then as now, one may riska good deal that the luncheon was worth while. Part of the tragedy ofthat day was the accidental break-up of this party with the result amidthe confusion of a road crowded by pleasure-seekers, that two Senatorswent one way carrying off the luncheon, while the other two, making thebest of the disaster, continued southward through those beautiful earlyhours when Russell was admiring the scenery, their luncheon all to seek. The lucky men with the luncheon were the Senators Benjamin Wadeand Zachary Chandler. Senator Trumbull and Senator Grimes, both onhorseback, were left to their own devices. However, fortune was withthem. Several hours later they had succeeded in getting food by thewayside and were resting in a grove of trees some distance beyond thevillage of Centerville. Suddenly, they suffered an appalling surprise;happening to look up, they beheld emerging out of the distance, astampede of men and horses which came thundering down the country road, not a hundred yards from where they sat. "We immediately mounted ourhorses, " as Trumbull wrote to his wife the next day, "and galloped tothe road, by which time it was crowded, hundreds being in advance onthe way to Centerville and two guns of Sherman's battery having alreadypassed in full retreat. We kept on with the crowd, not knowing what elseto do. We fed our horses at Centerville and left there at six o'clock. . . . Came on to Fairfax Court House where we got supper and, leaving there atten o'clock reached home at half past two this morning. . . . I amdreadfully disappointed and mortified. "(1)

Meanwhile, what of those other gay picnickers, Senator Wade and SenatorChandler? They drove in a carriage. Viewing the obligations of the hourmuch as did C. C. Clay at the President's reception, they were armed. Wade had "his famous rifle" which he had brought with him to Congress, which at times in the fury of debate he had threatened to use, whichhad become a byword. These Senators seem to have ventured nearer tothe front than did Trumbull and Grimes, and were a little later in theretreat At a "choke-up, " still on the far side of Centerville, theircarriage passed the carriage of the four Congressmen--who, by the way, were also armed, having among them "four of the largest navy revolvers. "

All these men, whatever their faults or absurdities, were intrepid. The Congressmen, at least, were in no good humor, for they had driventhrough a regiment of three months men whose time expired that day andwho despite the cannon in the distance were hurrying home. 

The race of the fugitives continued. At Centerville, the Congressmenpassed Wade. Soon afterward Wade passed them for the second time. Abouta mile out of Fairfax Court House, "at the foot of a long down grade, the pike on the northerly side was fenced and ran along a farm. On theother side for a considerable distance was a wood, utterly impenetrablefor men or animals, larger than cats or squirrels. " Here the Wadecarriage stopped. The congressional carriage drove up beside it. The twoblocked a narrow way where as in the case of Horatius at the bridge, "a thousand might well be stopped by three. " And then "bluff Ben Wade"showed the mettle that was in him. The "old Senator, his hat well backon his head, " sprang out of his carriage, his rifle in his hand, andcalled to the others, "Boys, we'll stop this damned runaway. " And theydid it. Only six of them, but they lined up across that narrow road;presented their weapons and threatened to shoot; seized the bridlesof horses and flung the horses back on their haunches; checked apanic-stricken army; held it at bay, until just when it seemed they wereabout to be overwhelmed, military reserves hurrying out from FairfaxCourt House, took command of the road. Cool, unpretentious Riddle callsthe episode "Wade's exploit, " and adds "it was much talked of. " Thenewspapers dealt with it extravagantly. (2)

Gallant as the incident was, it was all the military service that "Ben"Wade and "Zach" Chandler--for thus they are known in history-over saw. But one may believe that it had a lasting effect upon their point ofview and on that of their friend Lyman Trumbull. Certain it is that noneof the three thereafter had any doubts about putting the military menin their place. All the error of their own view previous to Bull Run wasforgotten. Wade and Chandler, especially, when military questions werein dispute, felt that no one possibly could know more of the subjectthan did the men who stopped the rout in the narrow road beyond Fairfax. 

Three of those picnickers who missed their guess on Bull Run Sunday, Wade, Chandler and Trumbull, were destined to important parts in thestern years that were to come. Before the close of the year 1861 thethree made a second visit to the army; and this time they kept together. To that second visit momentous happenings may be traced. How it cameabout must be fully understood. 

Two of the three, Wade and Chandler, were temperamentally incapable ofunderstanding Lincoln. Both were men of fierce souls; each had buta very limited experience. Wade had been a country lawyer in Ohio;Chandler, a prosperous manufacturer in Michigan. They were party men byinstinct, blind to the faults of their own side, blind to the virtuesof their enemies. They were rabid for the control of the government bytheir own organized machine. 

Of Chandler, in Michigan, it was said that he "carried the Republicanorganization in his breeches pocket"; partly through control of theFederal patronage, which Lincoln frankly conceded to him, partly througha "judicious use of money. "(3) Chandler's first clash with Lincoln wasupon the place that the Republican machine was to hold in the conduct ofthe war. 

From the beginning Lincoln was resolved that the war should not bemerely a party struggle. Even before he was inaugurated, he said thathe meant to hold the Democrats "close to the Administration on thenaked Union issue. "(4) He had added, "We must make it easy for them" tosupport the government "because we can't live through the case withoutthem. " This was the foundation of his attempt--so obvious between thelines of the first message--to create an all-parties government. This, Chandler violently opposed. Violence was always Chandler's note, so muchso that a scornful opponent once called him "Xantippe in pants. "

Lincoln had given Chandler a cause of offense in McClellan's elevationto the head of the army. * McClellan was a Democrat. There can be littledoubt that Lincoln took the fact into account in selecting him. Shortlybefore, Lincoln had aimed to placate the Republicans by showing highhonor to their popular hero, Fremont. 

 * Strictly speaking he did not become head of the army until the retirement of Scott in November. Practically, he was supreme almost from the moment of his arrival in Washington. 

When the catastrophe occurred at Bull Run, Fremont was a major-generalcommanding the Western Department with headquarters at St. Louis. Hewas one of the same violent root-and-branch wing of the Republicans--theRadicals of a latter day--of which Chandler was a leader. The temper ofthat wing had already been revealed by Senator Baker in his startlingpronouncement: "We of the North control the Union, and we are going togovern our own Union in our own way. " Chandler was soon to express itstill more exactly, saying, "A rebel has sacrificed all his rights. Hehas no right to life, liberty or the pursuit of happiness. "(5) Herewas that purpose to narrowing nationalism into Northernism, even toradicalism, and to make the war an outlet for a sectional ferocity, which Lincoln was so firmly determined to prevent. All thingsconsidered, the fact that on the day following Bull Run he did notsummon the Republican hero to Washington, that he did summon a Democrat, was significant. It opened his long duel with the extremists. 

The vindictive Spirit of the extremists had been rebuffed by Lincolnin another way. Shortly after Bull Run, Wade and Chandler appealed toLincoln to call out negro soldiers. Chandler said that he did not carewhether or no this would produce a servile insurrection in the South. Lincoln's refusal made another count in the score of the extremistsagainst him. (6)

During the late summer of 1861, Chandler, Wade, Trumbull, were allbusily organizing their forces for an attack on the Administration. Trumbull, indeed, seemed out of place in that terrible company. In time, he found that he was out of place. At a crucial moment he came overto Lincoln. But not until he had done yeoman service with Lincoln'sbitterest enemies. The clue to his earlier course was an honestconviction that Lincoln, though well-intentioned, was weak. (7) Was thisthe nemesis of Lincoln's pliability in action during the first stageof his Presidency? It may be. The firm inner Lincoln, the unyieldingthinker of the first message, was not appreciated even by well-meaningmen like Trumbull. The inner and the outer Lincoln were stilldisconnected. And the outer, in his caution, in his willingness to beinstructed, in his opposition to extreme measures, made the inevitableimpression that temperance makes upon fury, caution upon rashness. 

Throughout the late summer, Lincoln was the target of many attacks, chiefly from the Abolitionists. Somehow, in the previous spring, theyhad got it into their heads that at heart he was one of them, that hewaited only for a victory to declare the war a crusade of abolition. (8)When the crisis passed and a Democrat was put at the head of the army, while Fremont was left in the relative obscurity of St. Louis, Abolitionbitterness became voluble. The Crittenden Resolution was scoffed at asan "ill-timed revival of the policy of conciliation. " Threats againstthe Administration revived, taking the old form of demands for a whollynew Cabinet The keener-sighted Abolitionists had been alarmed by thefirst message, by what seemed to them its ominous silence as to slavery. Late in July, Emerson said in conversation, "If the Union is incapableof securing universal freedom, its disruption were as the breaking up ofa frog-pond. "(9) An outcry was raised because Federal generals did notdeclare free all the slaves who in any way came into their hands. The Abolitionists found no solace in the First Confiscation Act whichprovided that an owner should lose his claim to a slave, had the slavebeen used to assist the Confederate government. They were enraged by anorder, early in August, informing generals that it was the President'sdesire "that all existing rights in all the States be fully respectedand maintained; in cases of fugitives from the loyal Slave States, theenforcement of the Fugitive Slave Law by the ordinary forms of judicialproceedings must be respected by the military authorities; inthe disloyal States the Confiscation Act of Congress must be yourguide. "(10) Especially, the Abolitionists were angered because ofLincoln's care for the forms of law in those Slave States that had notseceded. They vented their bitterness in a famous sneer--"The Presidentwould like to have God on his side, but he must have Kentucky. "

A new temper was forming throughout the land. It was not merely the oldAbolitionism. It was a blend of all those elements of violent feelingwhich war inevitably releases; it was the concentration of all theseelements on the issue of Abolition as upon a terrible weapon; it was theresurrection of that primitive blood-lust which lies dormant in everypeaceful nation like a sleeping beast. This dreadful power rose outof its sleep and confronted, menacing, the statesman who of all ourstatesmen was most keenly aware of its evil, most determined to put itunder or to perish in the attempt With its appearance, the deepest ofall the issues involved, according to Lincoln's way of thinking, wasbrought to a head. Was the Republic to issue from the war a worthy oran unworthy nation? That was pretty definitely a question of whetherAbraham Lincoln or, say, Zachary Chandler, was to control its policy. 

A vain, weak man precipitated the inevitable struggle between these two. Fremont had been flattered to the skies. He conceived himself a genius. He was persuaded that the party of the new temper, the men who mayfairly be called the Vindictives, were lords of the ascendent. Hemistook their volubility for the voice of the nation. He determined todefy Lincoln. He issued a proclamation freeing the slaves of all whohad "taken an active part" with the enemies of the United States in thefield. He set up a "bureau of abolition. "

Lincoln first heard of Fremont's proclamation through the newspapers. His instant action was taken in his own extraordinarily gentle way. "Ithink there is great danger, " he wrote, "that the closing paragraph (ofFremont's proclamation) in relation to the confiscation of property andthe liberating of slaves of traitorous owners, will alarm our SouthernUnion friends and turn them against us; perhaps ruin our rather fairprospect for Kentucky. Allow me, therefore, to ask that you will, asof your own motion, modify that paragraph so as to conform" to theConfiscation Act. He added, "This letter is written in the Spirit ofcaution, not of censure. "(11)

Fremont was not the man to understand instruction of this sort. He wouldmake no compromise with the President. If Lincoln wished to go overhis head and rescind his order let him do so-and take the consequences. Lincoln quietly did so. His battle with the Vindictives was on. Fora moment it seemed as if he had destroyed his cause. So loud was theoutcry of the voluble people, that any one might have been excusedmomentarily for thinking that all the North had risen against him. Greatmeetings of protest were held. Eminent men--even such fine natures asBryant--condemned his course. In the wake of the incident, when it wasimpossible to say how significant the outcry really was, Chandler, who was staunch for Fremont, began his active interference with themanagement of the army. McClellan had insisted on plenty of timein which to drill the new three-year recruits who were pouring intoWashington. He did not propose to repeat the experience of GeneralMcDowell. On the other hand, Chandler was bent on forcing him intoaction. He, Wade and Trumbull combined, attempting to bring things topass in a way to suit themselves and their faction. To these men andtheir followers, clever young Hay gave the apt name of "The JacobinClub. "

They began their campaign by their second visit to the army. Wade wastheir chief spokesman. He urged McClellan to advance at once; to riskan unsuccessful battle rather than continue to stand still; the countrywanted something done; a defeat could easily be repaired by the swarmingrecruits. (12)

This callous attitude got no response from the Commanding General. Thethree Senators turned upon Lincoln. "This evening, " writes Hay inhis diary on October twenty-sixth, "the Jacobin Club represented byTrumbull, Chandler and Wade, came out to worry the Administration intoa battle. The agitation of the summer is to be renewed. The Presidentdefended McClellan's deliberateness. The next night we went overto Seward's and found Chandler and Wade there. " They repeated theirreckless talk; a battle must be fought; defeat would be no worse thandelay; "and a great deal more trash. "

But Lincoln was not to be moved. He and Hay called upon McClellan. ThePresident deprecated this new manifestation of popular impatience, butsaid it was a reality and should be taken into account. "At the sametime, General, " said he, "you must not fight until you are ready. "(13)

At this moment of extreme tension occurred the famous incident ofthe seizure of the Confederate envoys, Mason and Slidell, who werepassengers on the British merchant ship, the Trent. These men had runthe blockade which had now drawn its strangling line along the wholecoast of the Confederacy; they had boarded the Trent at Havana, andunder the law of nations were safe from capture. But Captain Wilkes ofthe United States Navy, more zealous than discreet, overhauled the Trentand took off the two Confederates. Every thoughtless Northerner wentwild with joy. At last the government had done something. Even theSecretary of the Navy so far forgot himself as to telegraph to Wilkes"Congratulate you on the great public service you have rendered in thecapture of the rebel emissaries. "(14) Chandler promptly applauded theseizure and when it was suggested that perhaps the envoys shouldbe released he at once arrayed himself in opposition. (15) With thetruculent Jacobins ready to close battle should the government do itsduty, with the country still echoing to cheers for Fremont and hissesfor the President, with nothing to his credit in the way of militarysuccess, Lincoln faced a crisis. He was carried through the crisis bytwo strong men. Sumner, head and front of Abolitionism but also agreat lawyer, came at once to his assistance. And what could a thinkingAbolitionist say after that! Seward skilfully saved the face of thegovernment by his management of the negotiation. The envoys werereleased and sent to England. 

It was the only thing to do, but Chandler and all his sort had opposedit. The Abolition fury against the government was at fever heat. WendellPhillips in a speech at New York denounced the Administration as havingno definite purpose in the war, and was interrupted by frantic cheersfor Fremont. McClellan, patiently drilling his army, was, in the eyesof the Jacobins, doing nothing. Congress had assembled. There was everysign that troubled waters lay just ahead. 

XIX. THE JACOBINS BECOME INQUISITORS

The temper animating Hay's "Jacobins" formed a new and really formidabledanger which menaced Lincoln at the close of 1861. But had he beenanything of an opportunist, it would have offered him an unrivaledopportunity. For a leader who sought personal power, this ragingsavagery, with its triple alliance of an organized political machine, adevoted fanaticism, and the war fury, was a chance in ten thousand. Itled to his door the steed of militarism, shod and bridled, champingupon the bit, and invited him to leap into the saddle. Ten words ofacquiescence in the program of the Jacobins, and the dreaded role of theman on horseback was his to command. 

The fallacy that politics are primarily intellectual decisions uponstated issues, the going forth of the popular mind to decide betweenprograms presented to it by circumstances, receives a brilliantrefutation in the course of the powerful minority that was concentratingaround the three great "Jacobins. " The subjective side of politics, alsothe temperamental side, here found expression. Statecraft is an art;creative statesmen are like other artists. Just as the painter or thepoet, seizing upon old subjects, uses them as outlets for his particulartemper, his particular emotion, and as the temper, the emotion are whatcounts in his work, so with statesmen, with Lincoln on the one hand, with Chandler at the opposite extreme. 

The Jacobins stood first of all for the sudden reaction of bold fiercenatures from a long political repression. They had fought their way toleadership as captains of an opposition. They were artists who had beendenied an opportunity of expression. By a sudden turn of fortune, it hadseemed to come within their grasp. Temperamentally they were fighters. Battle for them was an end in itself. The thought of Conquest sang tothem like the morning stars. Had they been literary men, their favoritepoetry would have been the sacking of Troy town. Furthermore, they wereintensely provincial. Undoubted as was their courage, they had also thevalor of ignorance. They had the provincial's disdain for the otherside of the horizon, his unbounded confidence in his ability to whip allcreation. Chandler, scornfully brushing aside a possible foreign war, typified their mood. 

And in quiet veto of all their hopes rose against them the apparentlyeasy-going, the smiling, story-telling, unrevengeful, new man atthe White House. It is not to be wondered that they spent the summerlaboring to build up a party against him, that they turned eagerly tothe new session of Congress, hoping to consolidate a faction opposed toLincoln. 

His second message (1), though without a word of obvious defiance, sethim squarely against them on all their vital contentions. The winter of1861-1862 is the strangest period of Lincoln's career. Although the twophases of him, the outer and the inner, were, in point of fact, movingrapidly toward their point of fusion, apparently they were further awaythan ever before. Outwardly, his most conspicuous vacillations were inthis winter and in the following spring. Never before or after did heallow himself to be overshadowed so darkly by his advisers in all theconcerns of action. In amazing contrast, in all the concerns of thought, he was never more entirely himself. The second message, prepared whenthe country rang with what seemed to be a general frenzy against him, did not give ground one inch. This was all the more notable because hisSecretary of War had tried to force his hand. Cameron had the reputationof being about the most astute politician in America. Few peopleattributed to him the embarrassment of principles. And Cameron, in thelate autumn, after closely observing the drift of things, determinedthat Fremont had hit it off correctly, that the crafty thing to do wasto come out for Abolition as a war policy. In a word, he decided to goover to the Jacobins. He put into his annual report a recommendation ofChandler's plan for organizing an army of freed slaves and sending itagainst the Confederacy. Advanced copies of this report had been sentto the press before Lincoln knew of it. He peremptorily ordered theirrecall, and the exclusion of this suggestion from the text of thereport. (2)

On the heels of this refusal to concede to Chandler one of his cherishedschemes, the second message was sent to Congress. The watchful andexasperated Jacobins found abundant offense in its omissions. On thewhole great subject of possible emancipation it was blankly silent. Thenearest it came to this subject was one suggestion which applied onlyto those captured slaves who had been forfeited by the disloyal ownersthrough being employed to assist the Confederate government Lincolnadvised that after receiving their freedom they be sent out of thecountry and colonized "at some place, or places, in a climate congenialto them. " Beyond this there was nothing bearing on the slavery questionexcept the admonition--so unsatisfactory to Chandler and allhis sort--that while "the Union must be preserved, and hence allindispensable means must be employed, " Congress should "not be in hasteto determine that radical and extreme measures, which may reach theloyal as well as the disloyal, are indispensable. "

Lincoln was entirely clear in his own mind that there was but one wayto head off the passion of destruction that was rioting in the Jacobintemper. "In considering the policy to be adopted in suppressing theinsurrection, I have been anxious and careful that the inevitableconflict for this purpose shall not degenerate into a violent andremorseless revolutionary struggle. I have, therefore, in every case, thought it proper to keep the integrity of the Union prominent as theprimary object of the contest on our part, leaving all questions whichare not of vital military importance to the more deliberate action ofthe Legislature. " He persisted in regarding the war as an insurrectionof the "disloyal portion of the American people, " not as an externalstruggle between the North and the South. 

Finally, the culmination of the message was a long elaborate argumentupon the significance of the war to the working classes. His aim wasto show that the whole trend of the Confederate movement was toward aconclusion which would "place capital on an equal footing with, if notabove, labor, in the structure of government. " Thus, as so often before, he insisted on his own view of the significance in American politics ofall issues involving slavery--their bearing on the condition of the freelaborer. In a very striking passage, often overlooked, he ranked himselfonce more, as first of all, a statesman of "the people, " in the limitedclass sense of the term. "Labor is prior to and independent of capital. Capital is only the fruit of labor and could never have existed if laborhad not first existed. Labor is the superior of capital, and deservesmuch the higher consideration. " But so far is he from any revolutionarypurpose, that he adds immediately, "Capital has its rights which are asworthy of protection as any other rights. " His crowning vision is notcommunism. His ideal world is one of universal opportunity, with laborfreed of every hindrance, with all its deserving members acquiring moreand more of the benefits of property. 

Such a message had no consolation for Chandler, Wade, or, as he thenwas, for Trumbull. They looked about for a way to retaliate. And now twothings became plain. That "agitation of the summer" to which Hay refers, had borne fruit, but not enough fruit. Many members of Congress who hadbeen swept along by the President's policy in July had been won over inthe reaction against him and were ripe for manipulation; but it was notyet certain that they held the balance of power in Congress. To lockhorns with the Administration, in December, would have been so rash amove that even such bold men as Chandler and Wade avoided it. Instead, they devised an astute plan of campaign. Trumbull was Chairman of theSenate Judiciary Committee, and in that important position wouldbide his time to bring pressure to bear on the President throughhis influence upon legislation. Wade and Chandler would go in forpropaganda. But they would do so in disguise. What more natural thanthat Congress should take an active interest in the army, should wishto do all in its power to "assist" the President in rendering thearmy-efficient. For that purpose it was proposed to establish a jointcommittee of the two Houses having no function but to look into militaryneeds and report to Congress. The proposal was at once accepted and itscrafty backers secured a committee dominated entirely by themselves. Chandler was a member; Wade became Chairman. (3) This Committee on theConduct of the War became at once an inquisition. Though armed with noweapon but publicity, its close connection with congressional intrigue, its hostility to the President, the dramatic effect of any revelationsit chose to make or any charges it chose to bring, clothed it indirectlywith immense power. Its inner purpose may be stated in the words ofone of its members, "A more vigorous prosecution of the war and lesstenderness toward slavery. "(4) Its mode of procedure was in constantinterrogation of generals, in frequent advice to the President, and onoccasion in threatening to rouse Congress against him. (5) A session ofthe Committee was likely to be followed by a call on the President ofeither Chandler or Wade. 

The Committee began immediately summoning generals before it to explainwhat the army was doing. And every general was made to understandthat what the Committee wanted, what Congress wanted, what the countrywanted, was an advance--"something doing" as soon as possible. 

And now appeared another characteristic of the mood of thesefurious men. They had become suspicious, honestly suspicious. Thissuspiciousness grew with their power and was rendered frantic bybeing crossed. Whoever disagreed with them was instantly an object ofdistrust; any plan that contradicted their views was at once an evidenceof treason. 

The earliest display of this eagerness to see traitors in every bushconcerned a skirmish that took place at Ball's Bluff in Virginia. Itwas badly managed and the Federal loss, proportionately, was large. Theofficer held responsible was General Stone. Unfortunately for him, he was particularly obnoxious to the Abolitionists; he had returnedfugitive slaves; and when objection was made by such powerfulAbolitionists as Governor Andrew of Massachusetts, Stone gave reign to asharp tongue. In the early days of the session, Roscoe Conkling toldthe story of Ball's Bluff for the benefit of Congress in a brilliant, harrowing speech. In a flash the rumor spread that the dead atBall's Bluff were killed by design, that Stone was a traitor, that--perhaps!--who could say?--there were bigger traitors higher up. Stone was summoned before the Inquisition. (6)

While Stone was on the rack, metaphorically, while the Committee wasshowing him every brutality in its power, refusing to acquaint him withthe evidence against him, intimating that they were able to convict himof treason, between the fifth and the eleventh of January a crisis arosein the War Office. Cameron had failed to ingratiate himself with therising powers. Old political enemies in Congress were implacable. Scandals in his Department gave rise to sweeping charges of peculation. 

There is scarcely another moment when Lincoln's power was so precarious. In one respect, in their impatience, the Committee reflected faithfullythe country at large. And by the irony of fate McClellan at this crucialhour, had fallen ill. After waiting for his recovery during severalweeks, Lincoln ventured with much hesitation to call a conference ofgenerals. (7) They were sitting during the Stone investigation, producingno result except a distraction in councils, devising plans that werethrown over the moment the Commanding General arose from his bed. Avote in Congress a few days previous had amounted to a censure of theAdministration. It was taken upon the Crittenden Resolution which hadbeen introduced a second time. Of those who had voted for it in July, so many now abandoned the Administration that this resolution, the clearembodiment of Lincoln's policy, was laid on the table, seventy-oneto sixty-five. (8) Lincoln's hope for an all-parties government wasreceiving little encouragement The Democrats were breaking intofactions, while the control of their party organization was falling intothe hands of a group of inferior politicians who were content to "playpolitics" in the most unscrupulous fashion. Both the Secretary of Warand the Secretary of State had authorized arbitrary arrests. Men in NewYork and New England had been thrown into prison. The privilege of thewrit of habeas corpus had been denied them on the mere belief of thegovernment that they were conspiring with its enemies. Because of thesearrests, sharp criticism was being aimed at the Administration bothwithin and without Congress. 

For all these reasons, the government at Washington appeared to betottering. Desperate remedies seemed imperative. Lincoln decided to makeevery concession he could make without letting go his central purpose. First, he threw over Cameron; he compelled him to resign though he savedhis face by appointing him minister to Russia. But who was to take hisplace? At this critical moment, the choice of a new Secretary of Warwas a political problem of exacting difficulty. Just why Lincoln chosea sullen, dictatorial lawyer whose experience in no way prepared him forthe office, has never been disclosed. Two facts appear to explain it. Edwin M. Stanton was temperamentally just the man to become a goodbrother to Chandler and Wade. Both of them urged him upon Lincolnas successor to Cameron. (9) Furthermore, Stanton hitherto had been aDemocrat. His services in Buchanan's Cabinet as Attorney-General hadmade him a national figure. Who else linked the Democrats and theJacobins?

However, for almost any one but Lincoln, there was an objection that itwould have been hard to overcome. No one has ever charged Stanton withpoliteness. A gloomy excitable man, of uncertain health, temperamentallyan over-worker, chronically apprehensive, utterly without the savinggrace of humor, he was capable of insufferable rudeness--one reason, perhaps, why Chandler liked him. He and Lincoln had met but once. Asassociate council in a case at Cincinnati, three years before, Lincolnhad been treated so contemptuously by Stanton that he had returned homein pained humiliation. Since his inauguration, Stanton had been one ofhis most vituperative critics. Was this insolent scold to be invitedinto the Cabinet? Had not Lincoln at this juncture been in the full tideof selflessness, surely some compromise would have been made with theCommittee, a secretary found less offensive personally to the President. Lincoln disregarded the personal consideration. The candidate ofChandler and Wade became secretary. It was the beginning of an intimatealliance between the Committee and the War Office. Lincoln had laid upfor himself much trouble that he did not foresee. 

The day the new Secretary took office, he received from the Committee areport upon General Stone:(10) Subsequently, in the Senate, Wade deniedthat the Committee had advised the arrest of Stone. (11) Doubtless thestatement was technically correct. Nevertheless, there can be no doubtthat the inquisitors were wholly in sympathy with the Secretary when, shortly afterward, Stone was seized upon Stanton's order, conveyed to afortress and imprisoned without trial. 

This was the Dreyfus case of the Civil War. Stone was never tried andnever vindicated. He was eventually released upon parole and after manytantalizing disappointments permitted to rejoin the army. What gives theevent significance is its evidence of the power, at that moment, ofthe Committee, and of the relative weakness of the President. Lincoln'seagerness to protect condemned soldiers survives in many anecdotes. Hayconfides to his diary that he was sometimes "amused at the eagernesswith which the President caught at any fact which would justify"clemency. And yet, when Stanton informed him of the arrest of Stone, he gloomily acquiesced. "I hope you have good reasons for it, " he said. Later he admitted that he knew very little about the case. But he didnot order Stone's release. 

Lincoln had his own form of ruthlessness. The selfless man, by dealingwith others in the same extraordinary way in which he deals withhimself, may easily under the pressure of extreme conditions becomeimpersonal in his thinking upon duty. The morality of such a stateof mind is a question for the philosopher. The historian must contenthimself with pointing out the only condition that redeems it--ifanything redeems it The leader who thinks impersonally about othersand personally about himself-what need among civilized people tocharacterize him? Borgia, Louis XIV, Napoleon. If we are ever to pardonimpersonal thinking it is only in the cases of men who begin by effacingthemselves. The Lincoln who accepted Stanton as a Cabinet officer, whowas always more or less overshadowed by the belief that in saving thegovernment he was himself to perish, is explicable, at least, whenindividual men became for him, as at times they did, impersonal factorsin a terrible dream. 

There are other considerations in the attempt to give a moral value tohis failure to interfere in behalf of Stone. The first four months of1862 are not only his feeblest period as a ruler, the period when hewas barely able to hold his own, but also the period when he was leastdefinite as a personality, when his courage and his vitality seemedebbing tides. Again, his spirit was in eclipse. Singularly enough, thiswas the darkness before the dawn. June of 1862 saw the emergence, with asuddenness difficult to explain, of the historic Lincoln. But inJanuary of that year he was facing downward into the mystery of his lasteclipse. All the dark places of his heredity must be searched for cluesto this strange experience. There are moments, especially under strainof a personal bereavement that fell upon him in February, when his willseemed scarcely a reality; when, as a directing force he may be saidmomentarily to have vanished; when he is hardly more than a ghost amonghis advisers. The far-off existence of weak old Thomas cast its partingshadow across his son's career. 

However, even our Dreyfus case drew from Lincoln another display of thatsettled conviction of his that part of his function was to be scapegoat. "I serve, " which in a way might be taken as his motto always, waspeculiarly his motto, and likewise his redemption, in this period of hisweakness. The enemies of the Committee in Congress took the matter upand denounced Stanton. Thereupon, Wade flamed forth, criticizing Lincolnfor his leniency, venting his fury on all those who were tender of theirenemies, storming that "mercy to traitors is cruelty to loyal men. "(12)Lincoln replied neither to Wade nor to his antagonists; but, withoutexplaining the case, without a word upon the relation to it of theSecretary and the Committee, he informed the Senate that the Presidentwas alone responsible for the arrest and imprisonment of GeneralStone. (13)

XX. IS CONGRESS THE PRESIDENT'S MASTER?

The period of Lincoln's last eclipse is a period of relative silence. But his mind was not inactive. He did not cease thinking upon the deeptheoretical distinctions that were separating him by a steadily wideningchasm from the most powerful faction in Congress. In fact, his mentalpowers were, if anything, more keen than ever before. Probably, it wasthe very clearness of the mental vision that enfeebled him when it cameto action. He saw his difficulties with such crushing certainty. Duringthis trying period there is in him something of Hamlet. 

The reaction to his ideas, to what is either expressed or implied, inthe first and second messages, was prompt to appear. The Jacobins didnot confine their activities within the scope of the terrible Committee. Wade and Chandler worked assiduously undermining his strength inCongress. Trumbull, though always less extreme than they, was still thevictim of his delusion that Lincoln was a poor creature, that the onlyway to save the country was to go along with those grim men of strengthwho dominated the Committee. In January, a formidable addition appearedin the ranks of Lincoln's opponents. Thaddeus Stevens made a speech inthe House that marks a chapter. It brought to a head a cloud of floatingopposition and dearly defined an issue involving the central propositionin Lincoln's theory of the government. The Constitution of the UnitedStates, in its detailed provisions, is designed chiefly to meet theexigencies of peace. With regard to the abnormal conditions of war, it is relatively silent. Certain "war powers" are recognized but notclearly defined; nor is it made perfectly plain what branch of thegovernment possesses them. The machinery for their execution is assumedbut not described--as when the Constitution provides that the privilegesof the writ of habeas corpus are to be suspended only in time of war, but does not specify by whom, or in what way, the suspension is to beeffected. Are those undefined "war powers, " which are the most sovereignfunctions of our government, vested in Congress or in the President?Lincoln, from the moment he defined his policy, held tenaciously to thetheory that all these extraordinary powers are vested in the President. By implication, at least, this idea is in the first message. Throughoutthe latter part of 1861, he put the theory into practice. Whateverseemed to him necessary in a state of war, he did, even to the arrestingof suspected persons, refusing them the privilege-of the habeas corpus, and retaining them in prison without trial. During 1861, he left theexercise of this sovereign authority to the discretion of the twoSecretaries of War and of State. 

Naturally, the Abolitionists, the Jacobins, the Democratic machine, conscientious believers in the congressional theory of the government, every one who for any reason, wanted to hit the Administration, unitedin a chorus of wrath over arbitrary arrests. The greatest orator ofthe time, Wendell Phillips, the final voice of Abolition, flayed thegovernment in public speeches for reducing America to an absolutedespotism. Trumbull introduced into the Senate a resolution calling uponthe President for a statement of the facts as to what he had actuallydone. (1)

But the subject of arrests was but the prelude to the play. The realissue was the theory of the government. Where in last analysis does theConstitution place the ultimate powers of sovereignty, the war powers?In Congress or in the President? Therefore, in concrete terms, isCongress the President's master, or is it only one branch of thegovernment with a definite but united activity of its own, without thatsweeping sovereign authority which in course of time has been acquiredby its parent body, the Parliament of Great Britain?

On this point Lincoln never wavered. From first to last, he wasdetermined not to admit that Congress had the powers of Parliament. Nosooner had the politicians made out this attitude than their attackon it began. It did not cease until Lincoln's death. It added a secondconstitutional question to the issues of the war. Not only the issuewhether a State had a right to secede, but also the issue of thePresident's possession of the war powers of the Constitution. Time andagain the leaders of disaffection in his own party, to say nothing ofthe violent Democrats, exhausted their rhetoric denouncing Lincoln'sposition. They did not deny themselves the delights of the sneer. Senator Grimes spoke of a call on the President as an attempt "toapproach the footstool of power enthroned at the other end of theAvenue. "(2) Wade expanded the idea: "We ought to have a committee towait on him whenever we send him a bill, to know what his royal pleasureis with regard to it. . . . We are told that some gentlemen . . . Havebeen to see the President. Some gentlemen are very fortunate in thatrespect. Nobody can see him, it seems, except some privileged gentlemenwho are charged with his constitutional conscience. "(3) As Lincoln kepthis doors open to all the world, as no one came and went with greaterfreedom than the Chairman of the Committee, the sneer was-what one mightexpect of the Committee. Sumner said: "I claim for Congress all thatbelongs to any government in the exercise of the rights of war. "Disagreement with him, he treated with unspeakable disdain: "Born inignorance and pernicious in consequence, it ought to be received withhissings of contempt, and just in proportion as it obtains acceptance, with execration. "(4) Henry Wilson declared that, come what might, thepolicy of the Administration would be shaped by the two Houses. "I hadrather give a policy to the President of the United States than take apolicy from the President of the United States. "(5) Trumbull thunderedagainst the President's theory as the last word in despotism. (6)

Such is the mental perspective in which to regard the speech of Stevensof January 22, 1862. With masterly clearness, he put his finger on theheart of the matter: the exceptional problems of a time of war, problemsthat can not be foreseen and prepared for by anticipatory legislation, may be solved in but one way, by the temporary creation of the dictator;this is as true of modern America as of ancient Rome; so far, mostpeople are agreed; but this extraordinary function must not be vestedin the Executive; on the contrary, it must be, it is, vested in theLegislature. Stevens did not hesitate to push his theory to itslimit. He was not afraid of making the Legislature in time of war theirresponsible judge of its own acts. Congress, said he, has all possiblepowers of government, even the dictator's power; it could declare itselfa dictator; under certain circumstances he was willing that it should doso. (7)

The intellectual boldness of Lincoln was matched by an equal boldness. Between them, he and Stevens had perfectly defined their issue. Grantedthat a dictator was needed, which should it be--the President orCongress?

In the hesitancy at the White House during the last eclipse, in thepublic distress and the personal grief, Lincoln withheld himselffrom this debate. No great utterances break the gloom of this period. Nevertheless, what may be considered his reply to Stevens is to befound. Buried in the forgotten portions of the Congressional Globe is aspeech that surely was inspired-or, if not directly inspired, so closea reflection of the President's thinking that it comes to the same thingat the end. 

Its author, or apparent author, was one of the few serene figures inthat Thirty-Seventh Congress which was swept so pitilessly by epidemicsof passion. When Douglas, after coming out valiantly for the Union andholding up Lincoln's hands at the hour of crisis, suddenly died, theIllinois Legislature named as his successor in the Senate, Orville HenryBrowning. The new Senator was Lincoln's intimate friend. Their pointsof view, their temperaments were similar. Browning shared Lincoln'smagnanimity, his hatred of extremes, his eagerness not to allow thewar to degenerate into revolution. In the early part of 1862 he wasLincoln's spokesman in the Senate. Now that the temper of Wade andChandler, the ruthlessness that dominated the Committee, had drawn untoitself such a cohort of allies; now that all their thinking had beenorganized by a fearless mind; there was urgent need for a masterlyreply. Did Lincoln feel unequal, at the moment, to this great task? Veryprobably he did. Anyhow, it was Browning who made the reply, (8) a replyso exactly in his friend's vein, that--there you are!

His aim was to explain the nature of those war powers of the government"which lie dormant during time of peace, " and therefore he frankly putthe question, "Is Congress the government?" Senator Fessenden, echoingStevens had said, "There is no limit on the powers of Congress;everything must yield to the force of martial law as resolved byCongress. " "There, sir, " said Browning, "is as broad and deep afoundation for absolute despotism as was ever laid. " He rang the changeson the need to "protect minorities from the oppression and tyranny ofexcited majorities. "

He went on to lay the basis of all Lincoln's subsequent defense ofthe presidential theory as opposed to the congressional theory, byformulating two propositions which reappear in some of Lincoln's mostfamous papers. Congress is not a safe vessel for extraordinary powers, because in our system we have difficulty in bringing it definitely to anaccount under any sort of plebiscite. On the other hand the President, if he abuses the war powers "when peace returns, is answerable to thecivil power for that abuse. "

But Browning was not content to reason on generalities. Asserting thatCongress could no more command the army than it could adjudicate a case, he further asserted that the Supreme Court had settled the matter andhad lodged the war powers in the President. He cited a decision calledforth by the legal question, "Can a Circuit Court of the United Statesinquire whether a President had acted rightly in calling out the militiaof a State to suppress an insurrection?" "The elevated office of thePresident, " said the Court, "chosen as he is by the People of the UnitedStates, and the high responsibility he could not fail to feel whenacting in a case of such moment, appear to furnish as strong safeguardsagainst the wilful abuse of power as human prudence and foresight couldwell devise. At all events, it is conferred upon him by the Constitutionand the laws of the United States, and therefore, must be respected andenforced in its judicial tribunals. "(9)

Whether or not constitutional lawyers would agree with Browning in theconclusion he drew from this decision, it was plainly the bed rockof his thought. He believed that the President--whatever your merehistorian might have to say--was in point of fact the exponent of thepeople as a whole, and therefore the proper vessel for the ultimaterights of a sovereign, rights that only the people possess, thatonly the people can delegate. And this was Lincoln's theory. Roughlyspeaking, he-conceived of the presidential office about as if it werethe office of Tribune of the People. 

There was still another reason why both Lincoln and Browning fearedto yield anything to the theory of congressional supremacy. It was, in their minds, not only the general question of all Congresses butimmediately of this particular Congress. An assembly in which the temperof Wade and Chandler, of Stevens and Sumner, was entering the ascendent, was an assembly to be feared; its supremacy was to be denied, its powerwas to be fought. 

Browning did not close without a startling passage flung square inthe teeth of the apostles of fury. He summed up the opposite temper, Lincoln's temper, in his description of "Our brethren of the South--forI am willing to call them brethren; my heart yet yearns toward them witha fervency of love which even their treason has not all extinguished, which tempts me constantly to say in their behalf, 'Father, forgivethem, for they know not what they do. '" He pleaded with the Senate notto consider them "as public enemies but as insurgent citizens only, " andadvocated an Act of Amnesty restoring all political and propertyrights "instantly upon their return to allegiance and submission to theauthority of the government. "

Had this narrowly constitutional issue arisen in quiet times, who cansay how slight might have been its significance? But Fate had decreedthat it should arise in the stormiest moment of our history. Millionsof men and women who cared nothing for constitutional theories, who weregoverned by that passion to see immediate results which the thoughtlessever confuse with achievement, these were becoming hysterical overdelay. Why did not the government do something? Everywhere voices wereraised accusing the President of cowardice. The mania of suspicionwas not confined to the Committee. The thoughts of a multitude wereexpressed by Congressman Hickman in his foolish words, "These are daysof irresponsibility and imbecility, and we are required to perform twooffices--the office of legislator and the office of President. " Thebetter part of a year had passed since the day of Sumter, and still thegovernment had no military success to its credit. An impetuous peoplethat lacked experience of war, that had been accustomed in unusualmeasure to have its wishes speedily gratified, must somehow bemarshalled behind the government, unless the alternative was thecapture of power by the Congressional Cabal that was forming against thePresident. 

Entering upon the dark days of the first half of 1862, Lincoln had nodelusions about the task immediately before him. He must win battles;otherwise, he saw no way of building up that popular support which alonewould enable him to keep the direction of policy in the hands of theExecutive, to keep it out of the hands of Congress. In a word, thestanding or falling of his power appeared to have been committed to thekeeping of the army. What the army would do with it, save his policy orwreck his policy, was to no small degree a question of the character andthe abilities of the Commanding General. 

XXI. THE STRUGGLE TO CONTROL THE ARMY

George Brinton McClellan, when at the age of thirty-four he was raisedsuddenly to a dizzying height of fame and power, was generally lookedupon as a prodigy. Though he was not that, he had a real claim todistinction. Had destiny been considerate, permitting him to risegradually and to mature as he rose, he might have earned a stablereputation high among those who are not quite great. He had done wellat West Point, and as a very young officer in the Mexican War; he hadrepresented his country as a military observer with the allies in theCrimea; he was a good engineer, and a capable man of business. Hiswinning personality, until he went wrong in the terrible days of 1862, inspired "a remarkable affection and regard in every one from thePresident to the humblest orderly that waited at his door. "(1) He wasat home among books; he could write to his wife that Prince Napoleon"speaks English very much as the Frenchmen do in the old Englishcomedies";(2) he was able to converse in "French, Spanish, Italian, German, in two Indian dialects and he knew a little Russian andTurkish. " Men like Wade and Chandler probably thought of him as a"highbrow, " and doubtless he irritated them by invariably addressingthe President as "Your Excellency. " He had the impulses as well as thetraditions of an elder day. But he had three insidious defects. At theback of his mind there was a vein of theatricality, hitherto unrevealed, that might, under sufficient stimulus, transform him into a poseur. Though physically brave, he had in his heart, unsuspected by himselfor others, the dread of responsibility. He was void of humor. Thesedamaging qualities, brought out and exaggerated by too swift a rise toapparent greatness, eventually worked his ruin. As an organizer he wasunquestionably efficient. His great achievement which secures him acreditable place in American history was the conversion in the autumn of1861 of a defeated rabble and a multitude of raw militia into a splendidfighting machine. The very excellence of this achievement was part ofhis undoing. It was so near to magical that it imposed on himself, gavehim a false estimate of himself, hid from him his own limitation. Itimposed also on his enemies. Crude, fierce men like the Vindictiveleaders of Congress, seeing this miracle take place so astoundinglysoon, leaped at once to the conclusion that he could, if he would, follow it by another miracle. Having forged the thunderbolt, why couldhe not, if he chose, instantly smite and destroy? All these hastyinexperienced zealots labored that winter under the delusion that onegreat battle might end the war. When McClellan, instead of rushing tothe front, entered his second phase--the one which he did not understandhimself, which his enemies never understood--when he entered upon hislong course of procrastination, the Jacobins, startled, dumfounded, casting about for reasons, could find in their unanalytical vision, butone. When Jove did not strike, it must be because Jove did not wish tostrike. McClellan was delaying for a purpose. Almost instantaneouswas the whisper, followed quickly by the outcry among the Jacobins, "Treachery! We are betrayed. He is in league with the enemy. "

Their distrust was not allayed by the manner in which he conductedhimself. His views of life and of the office of commanding general werenot those of frontier America. He believed in pomp, in display, in anordered routine. The fine weather of the autumn of 1861 was utilizedat Washington for frequent reviews. The flutter of flags, the glint ofmarching bayonets, the perfectly ordered rhythm of marching feet, theblare of trumpets, the silvery notes of the bugles, the stormily rollingdrums, all these filled with martial splendor the golden autumn air whenthe woods were falling brown. And everywhere, it seemed, look where onemight, a sumptuously uniformed Commanding General, and a numerous andsumptuous staff, were galloping past, mounted on beautiful horses. Plain, blunt men like the Jacobins, caring nothing for this ritual ofcommand, sneered. They exchanged stories of the elaborate dinners hewas said to give daily, the several courses, the abundance of wine, thenumerous guests; and after these dinners, he and his gorgeous staff, "clattering up and down the public streets" merely to show themselvesoff. All this sneering was wildly exaggerated. The mania ofexaggeration, the mania of suspicion, saturated the mental air breathedby every politician at Washington, that desperate winter, except thegreat and lonely President and the cynical Secretary of State. 

McClellan made no concessions to the temper of the hour. With Lincoln, his relations at first were cordial. Always he was punctiliouslyrespectful to "His Excellency. " It is plain that at first Lincoln likedhim and that his liking was worn away slowly. It is equally plain thatLincoln did not know how to deal with him. The tendency to pose was sofar from anything in Lincoln's make-up that it remained for him, whetherin McClellan or another, unintelligible. That humility which was soconspicuous in this first period of his rule, led him to assume with hisGeneral a modest, even an appealing tone. The younger man began to ringfalse by failing to appreciate it. He even complained of it in a letterto his wife. The military ritualist would have liked a more Olympiansuperior. And there is no denying that his head was getting turned. Perhaps he had excuse. The newspapers printed nonsensical editorialspraising "the young Napoleon. " His mail was filled with letters urginghim to carry things with a high hand; disregard, if necessary, thepusillanimous civil government, and boldly "save the country. " He hadso little humor that he could take this stuff seriously. Among all thefoolish letters which the executors of famous men have permitted to seethe light of publicity, few outdo a letter of McClellan's in which heconfided to his wife that he was willing to become dictator, should thatbe the only way out, and then, after saving his country, to perish. (3)

In this lordly mood of the melodramatic, he gradually--probably withoutknowing it--became inattentive to the President. Lincoln used to goto his house to consult him, generally on foot, clad in very ordinaryclothes. He was known to sit in McClellan's library "rather unnoticed"awaiting the General's pleasure. (4)

At last the growing coolness of McClellan went so far that an eventoccurred which Hay indignantly set down in his diary: "I wish hereto record what I consider a portent of evil to come. The President, Governor Seward and I went over to McClellan's house tonight. Theservant at the door said the General was at the wedding of ColonelWheaton at General Buell's and would soon return. We went in and afterwe had waited about an hour, McClellan came in, and without payingparticular attention to the porter who told him the President waswaiting to see him, went up-stairs, passing the door of the room wherethe President and the Secretary of State were seated. They waited abouthalf an hour, and sent once more a servant to tell the General they werethere; and the answer came that the General had gone to bed. 

"I merely record this unparalleled insolence of epaulettes withoutcomment It is the first indication I have yet seen of the threatenedsupremacy of the military authorities. Coming home, I spoke to thePresident about the matter, but he seemed not to have noticed itspecially, saying it were better at this time not to be making points ofetiquette and personal dignity. "(5)

Did ever a subordinate, even a general, administer to a superior a moreastounding snub? To Lincoln in his selfless temper, it was Only a detailin his problem of getting the army into action. What room for personalaffronts however gross in a mood like his? To be sure he ceased going toMcClellan's house, and thereafter summoned McClellan to come to him, butno change appeared in the tone of his intercourse with the General. "Iwill hold McClellan's horse, " said he, "if he will win me victories. "(6)

All this while, the two were debating plans of campaign and McClellanwas revealing-as we now see, though no one saw it at the time-the deepdread of responsibility that was destined to paralyze him as an activegeneral. He was never ready. Always, there must be more preparation, more men, more this, more that. 

In January, 1862, Lincoln, grown desperate because of hope deferred, made the first move of a sort that was to be lamentably frequent thenext six months. He went over the head of the Commanding General, and, in order to force a result, evoked a power not recognized inthe military scheme of things. By this time the popular adulation ofMcClellan was giving place to a general imitation of the growling of theJacobins, now well organized in the terrible Committee and growing eachday more and more hostile to the Administration. Lincoln had besoughtMcClellan to take into account the seriousness of this rising tide ofopposition. (7) His arguments made no impression. McClellan would notrecognize the political side of war. At last, partly to allay thepopular clamor, partly to force McClellan into a corner, Lincolnpublished to the country a military program. He publicly instructed theCommanding General to put all his forces in movement on all fronts, onWashington's birthday. (8)

From this moment the debate between the President and the Generalwith regard to plans of campaign approached the nature of a dispute. McClellan repeated his demand for more time in which to prepare. Heobjected to the course of advance which the President wished him topursue. Lincoln, seeing the situation first of all as a politicalproblem, grounded his thought upon two ideas neither of which was sharedby McClellan: the idea that the supreme consideration was the safetyof Washington; the resultant idea that McClellan should move directlysouth, keeping his whole army constantly between Washington and theenemy. McClellan wished to treat Washington as but one important detailin his strategy; he had a grandiose scheme for a wide flanking movement, for taking the bulk of his army by sea to the coast of Virginia, andthus to draw the Confederate army homeward for a duel to the death underthe walls of Richmond. Lincoln, neither then nor afterward more than anamateur in strategy, was deeply alarmed by this bold mode of procedure. His political instinct told him that if there was any slip andWashington was taken, even briefly, by the Confederates, the game wasup. He was still further alarmed when he found that some of the eidergenerals held views resembling his own. (9) To his modest, still gropingmind, this was a trying situation. In the President lay the ultimateresponsibility for every move the army should make. And whose adviceshould he accept as authoritative? The first time he asked himself thatquestion, such peace of mind as had survived the harassing year 1861left him, not to return for many a day. 

At this moment of crises, occurred one of his keenest personalafflictions. His little son Willie sickened and died. Lincoln's relationto his children was very close, very tender. Many anecdotes show thisboy frolicking about the White House, a licensed intruder everywhere. Another flood of anecdotes preserve the stupefying grief of his fatherafter the child's death. Of these latter, the most extreme which portrayLincoln toward the close of February so unnerved as to be incapable ofpublic duty, may be dismissed as apocryphal. But there can be nodoubt that his unhappiness was too great for the vain measurementof descriptive words; that it intensified the nervous mood which hadalready possessed him; that anxiety, deepening at times into terriblealarm, became his constant companion. 

In his dread and sorrow, his dilemma grew daily more intolerable. McClellan had opposed so stoutly the Washington birthday order thatLincoln had permitted him to ignore it. He was still wavering whichadvice to take, McClellan's or the elder generals'. To remove McClellan, to try at this critical moment some other general, did not occur to himas a rational possibility. But somehow he felt he must justify himselfto himself for yielding to McClellan' s views. In his zeal to securesome judgment more authoritative than his own, he took a further stepalong the dangerous road of going over the Commander's head, of bringingto bear upon him influences not strictly included in the militarysystem. He required McClellan to submit his plan to a council of hisgeneral officers. Lincoln attended this council and told the generals"he was not a military man and therefore would be governed by theopinion of a majority. "(10) The council decided in McClellan's favor bya vote of eight to four. This was a disappointment to Lincoln. So firmwas his addiction to the overland route that he could not rest contentwith the council's decision. Stanton urged him to disregard it, sneeringthat the eight who voted against him were McClellan's creatures, his"pets. " But Lincoln would not risk going against the majority ofthe council. "We are civilians, " said he, "we should justly be heldresponsible for any disaster if we set up our opinions against those ofexperienced military men in the practical management of a campaign. "(11)

Nevertheless, from this quandary, in which his reason forced him to doone thing while all his sensibilities protested, he extricated himselfin a curious way. Throughout the late winter he had been the object ofa concerted attack from Stanton and the Committee. The Committee hadtacitly annexed Stanton. He conferred with them confidentially. At eachimportant turn of events, he and they always got together in a secretpowwow. As early as February twentieth, when Lincoln seemed to bebreaking down with grief and anxiety, one of those secret conferencesof the high conspirators ended in a determination to employ all theirforces, direct and indirect, to bring about McClellan's retirement. Theywere all victims of that mania of suspicion which was the order ofthe day. "A majority of the Committee, " wrote its best member, longafterward when he had come to see things in a different light, "stronglysuspected that General McClellan was a traitor. " Wade vented his spleenin furious words about "King McClellan. " Unrestrained by Lincoln'sanguish, the Committee demanded a conference a few days after his son'sdeath and threatened an appeal from President to Congress if he did notquickly force McClellan to advance. (12)

All this while the Committee was airing another grievance. They clamoredto have the twelve divisions of the army of the Potomac grouped intocorps. They gave as their motive, military efficiency. And perhapsthey thought they meant it. But there was a cat in the bag whichthey carefully tried to conceal. The generals of divisions formed twodistinct groups, the elder ones who did not owe their elevation toMcClellan and the younger ones who did. The elder generals, it happened, sympathized generally with the Committee in politics, or at leastdid not sympathize with McClellan. The younger generals reflected thepolitics of their patron. And McClellan was a Democrat, a hater ofthe Vindictives, unsympathetic with Abolition. Therefore, the mania ofsuspicion being in full flood, the Committee would believe no good ofMcClellan when he opposed advancing the elder generals to the rank ofcorps commanders. His explanation that he "wished to test them in thefield, " was poohpoohed. Could not any good Jacobin see through that! Ofcourse, it was but an excuse to hold back the plums until he could dropthem into the itching palms of those wicked Democrats, his "pets. " Whyshould not the good men and true, elder and therefore better soldiers, whose righteousness was so well attested by their political leanings, why should not they have the places of power to which their rankentitled them?

Hitherto, however, Lincoln had held out against the Committee's demandand bad refused to compel McClellan to reorganize his army against hiswill. He now observed that in the council which cast the die against theoverland route, the division between the two groups of generals, whatwe may call the Lincoln generals and the McClellan generals, was sharplyevident. The next day he issued a general order which organized the armyof the Potomac into corps, and promoted to the rank of corps commanders, those elder generals whose point of view was similar to his own. (13)Thereafter, any reference of crucial matters to a council of generalofficers, would mean submitting it, not to a dozen commanders ofdivisions with McClellan men in the majority, but to four or fivecommanders of corps none of whom was definitely of the McClellanfaction. Thus McClellan was virtually put under surveillance of aninformal war council scrutinizing his course from the President'spoint of view. It was this reduced council of the subordinates, as willpresently appear, that made the crucial decision of the campaign. 

On the same day Lincoln issued another general order acceptingMcClellan's plan for a flanking movement to the Virginia coast. (14) TheConfederate lines at this time ran through Manassas--the pointLincoln wished McClellan to strike. It was to be known later that theConfederate General gave to Lincoln's views the high endorsementof assuming that they were the inevitable views that the NorthernCommander, if he knew his business, would act upon. Therefore, he hadbeen quietly preparing to withdraw his army to more defensible positionsfarther South. By a curious coincidence, his "strategic retreat"occurred immediately after McClellan had been given authority to do whathe liked. On the ninth of March it was known at Washington that Manassashad been evacuated. Whereupon, McClellan's fatal lack of humor permittedhim to make a great blunder. The man who had refused to go to Manassaswhile the Confederates were there, marched an army to Manassas themoment he heard that they were gone--and then marched back again. This performance was instantly fixed upon for ridicule as McClellan's"promenade to Manassas. "

To Lincoln the news of the promenade seemed both a vindication of hisown plan and crushing evidence that if he had insisted on his plan, theConfederate army would have been annihilated, the war in one cataclysmbrought to an end. He was ridden, as most men were, by the delusionof one terrific battle that was to end all. In a bitterness ofdisappointment, his slowly tortured spirit burst into rage. TheCommittee was delighted. For once, they approved of him. The next actof this man, ordinarily so gentle, seems hardly credible. By a strokeof his pen, he stripped McClellan of the office of Commanding General, reduced him to the rank of mere head of a local army, the army ofthe Potomac; furthermore, he permitted him to hear of his degradationthrough the heartless medium of the daily papers. (15) The functions ofCommanding General were added to the duties of the Secretary ofWar. Stanton, now utterly merciless toward McClellan, instantly tookpossession of his office and seized his papers, for all the world as ifhe were pouncing upon the effects of a malefactor. That McClellan wasnot yet wholly spoiled was shown by the way he received this blow. Itwas the McClellan of the old days, the gallant gentleman of the year1860, not the poseur of 1861, who wrote at once to Lincoln making nocomplaint, saying that his services belonged to his country in whatevercapacity they might be required. 

Again a council of subordinates was invoked to determine the next move. McClellan called together the newly made corps commanders and obtainedtheir approval of a variation of his former plan. He now proposed to useFortress Monroe as a base, and thence conduct an attack upon Richmond. Again, though with a touch of sullenness very rare in Lincoln, thePresident acquiesced. But he added a condition to McClellan's plan byissuing positive orders, March thirteenth, that it should not be carriedout unless sufficient force was left at Washington to render the cityimpregnable. 

During the next few days the Committee must have been quite satisfiedwith the President. For him, he was savage. The normal Lincoln, the manof immeasurable mercy, had temporarily vanished. McClellan's blunder hadtouched the one spring that roused the tiger in Lincoln. By letting slipa chance to terminate the war--as it seemed to that deluded Washingtonof March, 1862--McClellan had converted Lincoln from a broodinggentleness to an incarnation of the last judgment. He told Hay hethought that in permitting McClellan to retain any command, he had shownhim "very great kindness. "(16) Apparently, he had no consciousness thathe had been harsh in the mode of McClellan's abatement, no thought ofthe fine manliness of McClellan's reply. 

During this period of Lincoln's brief vengefulness, Stanton thought thathis time for clearing scores with McClellan had come. He even picked outthe man who was to be rushed over other men's heads to the command ofthe army of the Potomac. General Hitchcock, an accomplished soldierof the regular army, a grandson of Ethan Allen, who had grown old inhonorable service, was summoned to Washington, and was "amazed"by having plumped at him the question, would he consent to succeedMcClellan? Though General Hitchcock was not without faults--and thereis an episode in his later relations with McClellan which his biographerdiscreetly omits--he was a modest man. He refused to consider Stanton'soffer. But he consented to become the confidential adviser of the WarOffice. This was done after an interview with Lincoln who impressed onHitchcock his sense of a great responsibility and of the fact that he"had no military knowledge" and that he must have advice. (17) Out ofthis congested sense of helplessness in Lincoln, joined with the newlabors of the Secretary of War as executive head of all the armies, grewquickly another of those ill-omened, extra-constitutional war councils, one more wheel within the wheels, that were all doing their part tomake the whole machine unworkable; distributing instead of concentratingpower. This new council which came to be known as the Army Board, wasmade up of the heads of the Bureaus of the War Department with theaddition of Hitchcock as "Advising General. " Of the temper of the ArmyBoard, composed as it was entirely of the satellites of Stanton, aconfession in Hitchcock's diary speaks volumes. On the evening ofthe first day of their new relation, Stanton poured out to him such aquantity of oral evidence of McClellan's "incompetency" as to make thisnew recruit for anti-McClellanism "feel positively sick. "(18)

By permitting this added source of confusion among his advisers, Lincolntreated himself much as he had already treated McClellan. By going overMcClellan's head to take advice from his subordinates he had put theGeneral on a leash; now, by setting Hitchcock and the experts in theseat of judgment, he virtually, for a short while, put himself on aleash. Thus had come into tacit but real power three military councilsnone of which was recognized as such by law--the Council of theSubordinates behind McClellan; the Council of the Experts behindLincoln; the Council of the Jacobins, called The Committee, behind themall. 

The political pressure on Lincoln now changed its tack. Its unfailingzeal to discredit McClellan assumed the form of insisting that he had asecret purpose in waiting to get his army away from Washington, that hewas scheming to leave the city open to the Confederates, to "uncover"it, as the soldiers said. By way of focussing the matter on a definiteissue, his enemies demanded that he detach from his army and assignto the defense of Washington, a division which was supposed to bepeculiarly efficient General Blenker had recruited a sort of "foreignlegion, " in which were many daring adventurers who had seen service inEuropean armies. Blenker's was the division demanded. So determined wasthe pressure that Lincoln yielded. However, his brief anger had blownitself out. To continue vengeful any length of time was for Lincolnimpossible. He was again the normal Lincoln, passionless, tender, fearful of doing an injustice, weighed down by the sense ofresponsibility. He broke the news about Blenker in a personal note toMcClellan that was almost apologetic. "I write this to assure you that Idid so with great pain, understanding that you would wish it otherwise. If you could know the full pressure of the case, I am confident youwould justify it. "(19) In conversation, he assured McClellan that noother portion of his army should be taken from him. (20)

The change in Lincoln's mood exasperated Stanton. He called on his palsin the Committee for another of those secret confabulations in whichboth he and they delighted. Speaking with scorn of Lincoln's return tomagnanimity, he told them that the President had "gone back to his firstlove, " the traitor McClellan. Probably all those men who wagged theirchins in that conference really believed that McClellan was aiming tobetray them. One indeed, Julian, long afterward had the largeness ofmind to confess his fault and recant. The rest died in their absurddelusion, maniacs of suspicion to the very end. At the time all of themlaid their heads together--for what purpose? Was it to catch McClellanin a trap?

Meanwhile, in obedience to Lincoln's orders of March thirteenth, McClellan drew up a plan for the defense of Washington. As Hitchcock wasnow in such high feather, McClellan sent his plan to the new favorite ofthe War Office, for criticism. Hitchcock refused to criticize, andwhen McClellan's chief of staff pressed for "his opinion, as an old andexperienced officer, " Hitchcock replied that McClellan had had ampleopportunity to know what was needed, and persisted in his refusal. (21)McClellan asked no further advice and made his arrangements to suithimself. On April first he took boat at Alexandria for the front. Partof his army had preceded him. The remainder-except the force he hadassigned to the defense of Washington-was speedily to follow. 

With McClellan's departure still another devotee of suspicion movesto the front of the stage. This was General Wadsworth. Early in March, Stanton had told McClellan that he wanted Wadsworth as commander of thedefenses of Washington. McClellan had protested. Wadsworth was not amilitary man. He was a politician turned soldier who had tried to besenator from New York and failed; tried to be governor and failed; andwas destined to try again to be governor, and again to fail. Why shouldsuch a person be singled out to become responsible for the safety of thecapital? Stanton's only argument was that the appointment of Wadsworthwas desirable for political reasons. He added that it would be madewhether McClellan liked it or not. And made it was. (22) Furthermore, Wadsworth, who had previously professed friendship for McClellan, promptly joined the ranks of his enemies. Can any one doubt, Stantonbeing Stanton, mad with distrust of McClellan, that Wadsworth was fullyinformed of McClellan's opposition to his advancement?

On the second of April Wadsworth threw a bomb after the vanishingMcClellan, then aboard his steamer somewhere between Washington andFortress Monroe. Wadsworth informed Stanton that McClellan had notcarried out the orders of March thirteenth, that the force he hadleft at Washington was inadequate to its safety, that the capital was"uncovered. " Here was a chance for Stanton to bring to bear on Lincolnboth those unofficial councils that were meddling so deeply in thecontrol of the army. He threw this firebrand of a report among hissatellites of the Army Board and into the midst of the Committee. 2(3)

It is needless here to go into the furious disputes that ensued-theaccusations, the recriminations, the innuendoes! McClellan stoutlyinsisted that he had obeyed both the spirit and the letter of Marchthirteenth; that Washington was amply protected. His enemies shriekedthat his statements were based on juggled figures; that even ifthe number of soldiers was adequate, the quality and equipment werewretched; in a word that he lied. It is a shame-less controversyinconceivable were there not many men in whom politics and prejudice faroutweighed patriotism. In all this, Hitchcock was Stanton's trump card. He who had refused to advise McClellan, did not hesitate to denouncehim. In response to a request from Stanton, he made a report sustainingWadsworth. The Committee summoned Wadsworth before it; he read themhis report to Stanton; reiterated its charges, and treated them to someinnuendoes after their own hearts, plainly hinting that McClellan couldhave crushed the Confederates at Manassas if he had wished to. (24)

A wave of hysteria swept the Committee and the War Office and beatfiercely upon Lincoln. The Board charged him to save the day by mulctingthe army of the Potomac of an entire corps, retaining it at Washington. Lincoln met the Board in a long and troubled conference. His anxiousdesire to do all he could for McClellan was palpable. (25) But what, under the circumstances, could he do? Here was this new device for thesteadying of his judgment, this Council of Experts, singing the same oldtune, assuring him that McClellan was not to be trusted. Although in thereaction from his momentary vengefulness he had undoubtedly swung farback toward recovering confidence in McClellan, did he dare--painfullyconscious as he was that he "had no military knowledge"--did he dare goagainst the Board, disregard its warning that McClellan's arrangementsmade of Washington a dangling plum for Confederate raiders to snatchwhenever they pleased. His bewilderment as to what McClellan was reallydriving at came back upon him in full force. He reached at last thedreary conclusion that there was nothing for it but to let the new wheelwithin the wheels take its turn at running the machine. Accepting theview that McClellan had not kept faith on the basis of the orders ofMarch thirteenth, Lincoln "after much consideration" set aside his ownpromise to McClellan and authorized the Secretary of War to detain afull corps. (26)

McClellan never forgave this mutilation of his army and in time fixedupon it as the prime cause of his eventual failure on the Peninsula. Itis doubtful whether relations between him and Lincoln were ever againreally cordial. 

In their rather full correspondence during the tense days of April, Mayand June, the steady deterioration of McClellan's judgment bore himdown into amazing depths of fatuousness. In his own way he was as muchappalled by the growth of his responsibility as ever Lincoln had been. He moved with incredible caution. *

 *Commenting on one of his moments of hesitation, J. S. Johnston wrote to Lee: "No one but McClellan could have hesitated to attack. " 14 O. R. , 416. 

His despatches were a continual wailing for more men. Whatever wentwrong was at once blamed on Washington. His ill-usage had made himbitter. And he could not escape the fact that his actual performance didnot come up to expectation; that he was constantly out-generaled. Hisprevailing temper during these days is shown in a letter to his wife. "I have raised an awful row about McDowell's corps. The President verycoolly telegraphed me yesterday that he thought I ought to break theenemy's lines at once. I was much tempted to reply that he had bettercome and do it himself. " A despatch to Stanton, in a moment of disaster, has become notorious: "If I save this army now, I tell you plainly I oweno thanks to you or to any other persons in Washington. You have doneyour best to sacrifice this army. "(27)

Throughout this preposterous correspondence, Lincoln maintained theeven tenor of his usual patient stoicism, "his sad lucidity of soul. "He explained; he reasoned; he promised, over and over, assistance to thelimit of his power; he never scolded; when complaint became too absurdto be reasoned with, he passed it over in silence. Again, he wasthe selfless man, his sensibilities lost in the purpose he sought toestablish. 

Once during this period, he acted suddenly, on the spur of the moment, in a swift upflaring of his unconquerable fear for the safety ofWashington. Previously, he had consented to push the detained corps, McDowell's, southward by land to cooperate with McClellan, who adaptedhis plans to this arrangement. Scarcely had he done so, thanLincoln threw his plans into confusion by ordering McDowell back toWashington. (28) Jackson, who had begun his famous campaign of menace, was sweeping like a whirlwind down the Shenandoah Valley, and in theeyes of panic-struck Washington appeared to be a reincarnation ofSouthey's Napoleon, --

 "And the great Few-Faw-Fum, would presently come, With a hop, skip and jump"

into Pennsylvania Avenue. As Jackson's object was to bring McDowell backto Washington and enable Johnston to deal with McClellan unreinforced, Lincoln had fallen into a trap. But he had much company. Stanton waswell-nigh out of his head. Though Jackson's army was less than fifteenthousand and the Union forces in front of him upward of sixty thousand, Stanton telegraphed to Northern governors imploring them to hastenforward militia because "the enemy in great force are marching onWashington. "(29)

The moment Jackson had accomplished his purpose, having drawn a greatarmy northwestward away from McClellan, most of which should have beenmarching southeastward to join McClellan, he slipped away, rushed hisown army across the whole width of Virginia, and joined Lee in theterrible fighting of the Seven Days before Richmond. 

In the midst of this furious confusion, the men surrounding Lincoln maybe excused for not observing a change in him. They have recorded hisappearance of indecision, his solicitude over McClellan, his worn andhaggard look. The changing light in those smoldering fires of hisdeeply sunken eyes escaped their notice. Gradually, through profoundunhappiness, and as always in silence, Lincoln was working out ofhis last eclipse. No certain record of his inner life during thistransition, the most important of his life, has survived. We can judgeof it only by the results. The outstanding fact with regard to it is acertain change of attitude, an access of determination, late in June. What desperate wrestling with the angel had taken place in the months ofagony since his son's death, even his private secretaries have not feltable to say. Neither, apparently, did they perceive, until it flashedupon them full-blown, the change that was coming over his resolution. Nor did the Cabinet have any warning that the President was turninga corner, developing a new phase of himself, something sterner, morepowerful than anything they had suspected. This was ever his way. Hisinstinctive reticence stood firm until the moment of the new birth. Notonly the Cabinet but the country was amazed and startled, when, late inJune, the President suddenly left Washington. He made a flying trip toWest Point where Scott was living in virtual retirement. (30) What passedbetween the two, those few hours they spent together, that twenty-fourthof June, 1862, has never been divulged. Did they have any eyes, thatday, for the wonderful prospect from the high terrace of the paradeground; for the river so far below, flooring the valley with silver;for the mountains pearl and blue? Did they talk of Stanton, of hiswaywardness, his furies? Of the terrible Committee? Of the way Lincolnhad tied his own hands, brought his will to stalemate, through hisrecognition of the unofficial councils? Who knows?

Lincoln was back in Washington the next day. Another day, and by asweeping order he created a new army for the protection of Washington, and placed in command of it, a western general who was credited witha brilliant stroke on the Mississippi. (31) No one will now defend themilitary genius of John Pope. But when Lincoln sent for him, all theevidence to date appeared to be in his favor. His follies were yet toappear. And it is more than likely that in the development of Lincoln'scharacter, his appointment has a deep significance. It appears to markthe moment when Lincoln broke out of the cocoon of advisement he hadspun unintentionally around his will. In the sorrows of the grim year, new forces had been generated. New spiritual powers were coming to hisassistance. At last, relatively, he had found peace. Worn and torn ashe was, after his long inward struggle, few bore so calmly as he didthe distracting news from the front in the closing days of June and theopening days of July, when Lee was driving his whole strength likea superhuman battering-ram, straight at the heart of the waveringMcClellan. A visitor at the White House, in the midst of the terriblestrain of the Seven Days, found Lincoln "thin and haggard, but cheerful. . . Quite as placid as usual . . . His manner was so kindly and sofree from the ordinary cocksureness of the politician, and the vanityand self-importance of official position that nothing but good will wasinspired by his presence. "(32)

His serenity was all the more remarkable as his relations withCongress and the Committee were fast approaching a crisis. If McClellanfailed-and by the showing of his own despatches, there was every reasonto expect him to fail, so besotted was he upon the idea that no onecould prevail with the force allowed him--the Committee who were leadersof the congressional party against the presidential party might beexpected promptly to measure strength with the Administration. AndMcClellan failed. At that moment Chandler, with the consent of theCommittee, was making use of its records preparing a Philippic againstthe government. Lincoln, acting on his own initiative, without askingthe Secretary of War to accompany him, went immediately to the front. He passed two days questioning McClellan and his generals. (33) But therewas no council of war. It was a different Lincoln from that other who, just four months previous, had called together the general officers andpromised them to abide by their decisions. He returned to Washingtonwithout telling them what he meant to do. 

The next day closed a chapter and opened a chapter in the history ofthe Federal army. Stanton's brief and inglorious career as head of thenational forces came to an end. He fell back into his rightfulposition, the President's executive officer in military affairs. Lincolntelegraphed another Western general, Halleck, ordering him to Washingtonas General-in-Chief. (34) He then, for a season, turned his wholeattention from the army to politics. Five days after the telegram toHalleck, Chandler in the Senate, loosed his insatiable temper in whatostensibly was a denunciation of McClellan, what in point of fact was asweeping arraignment of the military efficiency of the government. (35)

XXII. LINCOLN EMERGES

While Lincoln was slowly struggling out of his last eclipse, givingmost of his attention to the army, the Congressional Cabal was laboringassiduously to force the issue upon slavery. The keen politicians whocomposed it saw with unerring vision where, for the moment, lay theiropportunity. They could not beat the President on any one issue thenbefore the country. No one faction was strong enough to be theirstand-by. Only by a combination of issues and a coalition offactions could they build up an anti-Lincoln party, check-mate theAdministration, and get control of the government. They were greatlyassisted by the fatuousness of the Democrats. That party was in apeculiar situation. Its most positive characters, naturally, had takensides for or against the government. The powerful Southerners who hadbeen its chief leaders were mainly in the Confederacy. Such Northernersas Douglas and Stanton, and many more, had gone over to the Republicans. Suddenly the control of the party organization had fallen into the handsof second-rate men. As by the stroke of an enchanter's wand, men ofsmall caliber who, had the old conditions remained, would have livedand died of little consequence saw opening before them the role ofleadership. It was too much for their mental poise. Again the subjectiveelement in politics! The Democratic party for the duration of the warbecame the organization of Little Men. Had they possessed any greatleaders, could they have refused to play politics and responded toLincoln's all-parties policy, history might have been different. Butthey were not that sort. Neither did they have the courage to go to theother extreme and become a resolute opposition party, wholeheartedly andintelligently against the war. They equivocated, they obstructed, theyprofessed loyalty and they practised-it would be hard to say what! Soshort-sighted was their political game that its effect continuallywas to play into the hands of their most relentless enemies, the grimJacobins. 

Though, for a brief time while the enthusiasm after Sumter was still atits height they appeared to go along with the all-parties program, theysoon revealed their true course. In the autumn of 1861, Lincoln stillhad sufficient hold upon all factions to make it seem likely that hisall-parties program would be given a chance. The Republicans generallymade overtures to the Democratic managers, offering to combine in acoalition party with no platform but the support of the war and therestoration of the Union. Here was the test of the organization ofthe Little Men. The insignificant new managers, intoxicated bythe suddenness of their opportunity, rang false. They rejected theall-parties program and insisted on maintaining their separate partyformation. (1) This was a turning point in Lincoln's career. Thoughnearly two years were to pass before he admitted his defeat, theall-parties program was doomed from that hour. Throughout the winter, the Democrats in Congress, though steadily ambiguous in their statementsof principle, were as steadily hostile to Lincoln. If they had anysettled policy, it was no more than an attempt to hold the balance ofpower among the warring factions of the Republicans. By springtime thegame they were playing was obvious; also its results. They had preventedthe President from building up a strong Administration group wherewithhe might have counterbalanced the Jacobins. Thus they had released theJacobins from the one possible restraint that might have kept them frompursuing their own devices. 

The spring of 1862 saw a general realignment of factions. It wasthen that the Congressional Cabal won its first significant triumph. Hitherto, all the Republican platforms had been programs of denial. A brilliant new member of the Senate, john Sherman, bluntly told hiscolleagues that the Republican party had always stood on the defensive. That was its weakness. "I do not know any measure on which it has takenan aggressive position. "(2) The clue to the psychology of the momentwas in the raging demand of the masses for a program of assertion, foraggressive measures. The President was trying to meet this demand withhis all-parties program, with his policy of nationalism, exclusive ofeverything else. And recently he had added that other assertion, hisinsistence that the executive in certain respects was independent of thelegislative. Of his three assertions, one, the all-parties program, was already on the way to defeat Another, nationalism, as the Presidentinterpreted it, had alienated the Abolitionists. The third, his argumentfor himself as tribune, was just what your crafty politician mighttwist, pervert, load with false meanings to his heart's content. Menless astute than Chandler and Wade could not have failed to see wherefortune pointed. Their opportunity lay in a combination of the twoissues. Abolition and the resistance to executive "usurpation. " Theirproblem was to create an anti-Lincoln party that should also be awar party. Their coalition of aggressive forces must accept theAbolitionists as its backbone, but it must also include all violentelements of whatever persuasion, and especially all those that could bewrought into fury on the theme of the President as a despot. Above all, their coalition must absorb and then express the furious temper so dearto their own hearts which they fondly believed-mistakenly, they weredestined to discover-was the temper of the country. 

It can not be said that this was the Republican program. ThePresident's program, fully as positive as that of the Cabal, had as gooda right to appropriate the party label--as events were to show, a betterright. But the power of the Cabal was very great, and the following itwas able to command in the country reached almost the proportions of theterrible. A factional name is needed. For the Jacobins, their allies inCongress, their followers in the country, from the time they acquired apositive program, an accurate label is the Vindictives. 

During the remainder of the session, Congress may be thought of ashaving--what Congress seldom has--three definite groups, Right, Left andCenter. The Right was the Vindictives; the Left, the irreconcilableDemocrats; the Center was composed chiefly of liberal Republicans butincluded a few Democrats, those who rebelled against the politicalchicanery of the Little Men. 

The policy of the Vindictives was to force upon the Administration thedouble issue of emancipation and the supremacy of Congress. Therefore, their aim was to pass a bill freeing the slaves on the sole authority ofa congressional act. Many resolutions, many bills, all having this endin view, were introduced. Some were buried in committees; some wereremade in committees and subjected to long debate by the Houses; nowand then one was passed upon. But the spring wore through and thesummer came, and still the Vindictives were not certainly in controlof Congress. No bill to free slaves by congressional action secured amajority vote. At the same time it was plain that the strength of theVindictives was slowly, steadily, growing. 

Outside Congress, the Abolitionists took new hope. They had organized asystematic propaganda. At Washington, weekly meetings were held inthe Smithsonian Institute, where all their most conspicuous leaders, Phillips, Emerson, Brownson, Garret Smith, made addresses. Every Sundaya service was held in the chamber of the House of Representatives andthe sermon was almost always a "terrific arrangement of slavery. "Their watch-word was "A Free Union or Disintegration. " The treatment offugitive slaves by commanders in the field produced a clamor. Lincolninsisted on strict obedience to the two laws, the Fugitive Slave Act andthe First Confiscation Act. Abolitionists sneered at "all this gabbleabout the sacredness of the Constitution. "(3) But Lincoln was not tobe moved. When General Hunter, taking a leaf from the book of Fremont, tried to force his hand, he did not hesitate. Hunter had issued aproclamation by which the slaves in the region where he commanded were"declared forever free. "

This was in May when Lincoln's difficulties with McClellan were at theirheight; when the Committee was zealously watching to catch him in anysort of mistake; when the House was within four votes of a majority foremancipation by act of Congress;(4) when there was no certainty whetherthe country was with him or with the Vindictives. Perhaps that newcourage which definitely revealed itself the next month, may be firstglimpsed in the proclamation overruling Hunter:

"I further make known that whether it be competent for me, asCommander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy, to declare the slaves of anyState or States free, and whether at any time, in any case, it shallhave become a necessity indispensable to the maintenance of thegovernment to exercise such supposed power, are questions which, under my responsibility, I reserve to myself, and which I can not feeljustified in leaving to the decision of commanders in the field. "(5)

The revocation of Hunter's order infuriated the Abolitionists. It deeplydisappointed the growing number who, careless about slavery, wantedemancipation as a war measure, as a blow at the South. Few of either ofthese groups noticed the implied hint that emancipation might come byexecutive action. Here was the matter of the war powers in a surprisingform. However, it was not unknown to Congress. Attempts had been made toinduce Congress to concede the war powers to the President and to ask, not command, him to use them for the liberation of slaves in the SecededStates. Long before, in a strangely different connection, such vehementAbolitionists as Giddings and J. Q. Adams had pictured the freeing ofslaves as a natural incident of military occupation. 

What induced Lincoln to throw out this hint of a possible surrender onthe subject of emancipation? Again, as so often, the silence as to hismotives is unbroken. However, there can be no doubt that his thinkingon the subject passed through several successive stages. But all histhinking was ruled by one idea. Any policy he might accept, or anyrefusal of policy, would be judged in his own mind by the degree towhich it helped, or hindered, the national cause. Nothing was moreabsurd than the sneer of the Abolitionists that he was "tender" ofslavery. Browning spoke for him faithfully, "If slavery can survive theshock of war and secession, be it so. If in the conflict for liberty, the Constitution and the Union, it must necessarily perish, then let itperish. " Browning refused to predict which alternative would develop. His point was that slaves must be treated like other property. But, ifneed be, he would sacrifice slavery as he would sacrifice anything else, to save the Union. He had no intention to "protect" slavery. (6)

In the first stage of Lincoln's thinking on this thorny subject, hischief anxiety was to avoid scaring off from the national cause thoseSouthern Unionists who were not prepared to abandon slavery. This wasthe motive behind his prompt suppression of Fremont. It was this thatinspired the Abolitionist sneer about his relative attitude towardGod and Kentucky. As a compromise, to cut the ground from under theVindictives, he had urged the loyal Slave States to endorse a programof compensated emancipation. But these States were as unable to see thehandwriting on the wall as were the Little Men. In the same proclamationthat overruled Hunter, while hinting at what the Administration mightfeel driven to do, Lincoln appealed again to the loyal Slave States toaccept compensated emancipation. "I do not argue, " said he, "I beseechyou to make the argument for yourselves. You can not, if you would, beblind to the signs of the times. . . . This proposal makes common causefor a common object, casting no reproaches upon any. It acts not thePharisee. The change it contemplates would come gently as the dews ofheaven, not rending or wrecking anything. "(7)

Though Lincoln, at this moment, was anxiously watching the movementin Congress to force his hand, he was not apparently cast down. He wasemerging from his eclipse. June was approaching and with it the finaldawn. Furthermore, when he issued this proclamation on May nineteenth, he had not lost faith in McClellan. He was still hoping for news of acrushing victory; of McClellan's triumphal entry into Richmond. Thenext two months embraced both those transformations which togetherrevolutionized his position. He emerged from his last eclipse; andMcClellan failed him. 

When Lincoln returned to Washington after his two days at the front, heknew that the fortunes of his Administration were at a low ebb. Never had he been derided in Congress with more brazen injustice. TheCommittee, waiting only for McClellan's failure, would now unmask theirguns-as Chandler did, seven days later. The line of Vindictive criticismcould easily be foreshadowed: the government had failed; it wasresponsible for a colossal military catastrophe; but what could youexpect of an Administration that would not strike its enemies throughemancipation; what a shattering demonstration that the Executive was nota safe repository of the war powers. 

Was there any way to forestall or disarm the Vindictives? His silencegives us no clue when or how the answer occurred to him--by separatingthe two issues; by carrying out the hint in the May proclamation; byyielding on emancipation while, in the very act, pushing the war powersof the President to their limit, declaring slaves free by an executiveorder. 

The importance of preserving the war power of the President had becomea fixed condition of Lincoln's thought. Already, he was looking forwardnot only to victory but to the great task that should come aftervictory. He was determined, if it were humanly possible, to keep thattask in the hands of the President, and out of the hands of Congress. A first step had already been taken. In portions of occupied territory, military governors had been appointed. Simple as this seemed to thecareless observer, it focussed the whole issue. The powerful, legal mindof Sumner at once perceived its significance. He denied in the Senatethe right of the President to make such appointments; he besought theSenate to demand the cancellation of such appointment. He reasserted theabsolute sovereignty of Congress. (8) It would be a far-reaching strokeif Lincoln, in any way, could extort from Congress acquiescence in hisuse of the war powers on a vast scale. Freeing the slaves by executiveorder would be such a use. 

Another train of thought also pointed to the same result. Lincoln'sdesire to further the cause of "the Liberal party throughout the world, "that desire which dated back to his early life as a politician, hadsuffered a disappointment. European Liberals, whose political visionwas less analytical than his, had failed to understand his policy. TheConfederate authorities had been quick to publish in Europe his officialpronouncements that the war had been undertaken not to abolish slaverybut to preserve the Union. As far back as September, 1861, Carl Schurzwrote from Spain to Seward that the Liberals abroad were disappointed, that "the impression gained ground that the war as waged by the Federalgovernment, far from being a war of principle, was merely a war ofpolicy, " and "that from this point of view much might be said for theSouth. "(9) In fact, these hasty Europeans had found a definite groundfor complaining that the American war was a reactionary influence. Theconcentration of American cruisers in the Southern blockade gave theAfrican slave trade its last lease of life. With no American war-shipamong the West Indies, the American flag became the safeguard of theslaver. Englishmen complained that "the swift ships crammed with theirhuman cargoes" had only to "hoist the Stars and Stripes and pass underthe bows of our cruisers. "(10) Though Seward scored a point by histreaty giving British cruisers the right to search any ships carryingthe American flag, the distrust of the foreign Liberals was not removed. They inclined to stand aside and to allow the commercial classes ofFrance and England to dictate policy toward the United States. Theblockade, by shutting off the European supply of raw cotton, on bothsides the channel, was the cause of measureless unemployment, ofintolerable misery. There was talk in both countries of intervention. Napoleon, especially, loomed large on the horizon as a possible ally ofthe Confederacy. And yet, all this while, Lincoln had it in his power atany minute to lay the specter of foreign intervention. A pledge to the"Liberal party throughout the world" that the war would bring about thedestruction of slavery, and great political powers both in England andin France would at once cross the paths of their governments should theymove toward intervention. Weighty as were all these reasons for a changeof policy--turning the flank of the Vindictives on the war powers, committing the Abolitionists to the Administration, winning over theEuropean Liberals--there was a fourth reason which, very probably, weighed upon Lincoln most powerfully of them all. Profound gloom hadsettled upon the country. There was no enthusiasm for militaryservice. And Stanton, who lacked entirely the psychologic vision of thestatesman, had recently committed an astounding blunder. After a fewmonths in power he had concluded that the government had enough soldiersand had closed the recruiting offices. (11) Why Lincoln permitted thissingular proceeding has never been satisfactorily explained. * Now he wasreaping the fruits. A defeated army, a hopeless country, and noprospect of swift reinforcement! If a shift of ground on the questionof emancipation would arouse new enthusiasm, bring in a new stream ofrecruits, Lincoln was prepared to shift. 

 *Stanton's motive was probably economy. Congress was terrified by the expense of the war. The Committee was deeply alarmed over the political effect of war taxation. They and Stanton were all convinced that McClellan was amply strong enough to crush the Confederacy. 

But even in this dire extremity, he would not give way without a lastattempt to save his earlier policy. On July twelfth, he called togetherthe Senators and Representatives of the Border States. He read to thema written argument in favor of compensated emancipation, the Federalgovernment to assist the States in providing funds for the purpose. 

"Let the States that are in rebellion, " said he, "see definitely andcertainly that in no event will the States you represent ever join theirproposed Confederacy, and they can not much longer maintain the contest. But you can not divest them of their hope to ultimately have you withthem so long as you show a determination to perpetuate the institutionwithin your own States. . . . If the war continues long, as it must ifthe object be not sooner attained, the institution in your States willbe extinguished by mere friction and abrasion--by the mere incidents ofwar. . . . Our common country is in great peril, demanding the loftiestviews and boldest action to bring it speedy relief. Once relievedits form of government is saved to the world, its beloved history andcherished memories are vindicated, and its happy future fully assuredand rendered inconceivably grand. "(12)

He made no impression. They would commit themselves to nothing. Lincolnabandoned his earlier policy. 

Of what happened next, he said later, "It had got to be. . . . Thingshad gone on from bad to worse until I felt that we had reached the endof our rope on the plan of operations we had been pursuing; that we hadabout played our last card and must change our tactics or lose the game. I now determined upon the adoption of the emancipation policy. . . "(13)

The next day he confided his decision and his reasons to Seward andWelles. Though "this was a new departure for the President, " boththese Ministers agreed with him that the change of policy had becomeinevitable. (14)

Lincoln was now entirely himself, astute in action as well as bold inthought. He would not disclose his change of policy while Congress wasin session. Should he do so, there was no telling what attempt theCabal would make to pervert his intention, to twist his course intothe semblance of an acceptance of the congressional theory. He laid thematter aside until Congress should be temporarily out of the way, untilthe long recess between July and December should have begun. In thisclosing moment of the second session of the Thirty-Seventh Congress, which is also the opening moment of the great period of Lincoln, thefeeling against him in Congress was extravagantly bitter. It caught atanything with which to make a point. A disregard of technicalitiesof procedure was magnified into a serious breach of constitutionalprivilege. Reviving the question of compensated emancipation, Lincolnhad sent a special message to both Houses, submitting the text of acompensation bill which he urged them to consider. His enemies raisedan uproar. The President had no right to introduce a bill into Congress!Dictator Lincoln was trying in a new way to put Congress under histhumb. (15)

In the last week of the session, Lincoln's new boldness brought the oldrelation between himself and Congress to a dramatic close. The SecondConfiscation Bill had long been under discussion. Lincoln believed thatsome of its provisions were inconsistent with the spirit at least ofour fundamental law. Though its passage was certain, he prepared a vetomessage. He then permitted the congressional leaders to know what heintended to do when the bill should reach him. Gall and wormwood areweak terms for the bitterness that may be tasted in the speeches of theVindictives. When, in order to save the bill, a resolution was appendedpurging it of the interpretation which Lincoln condemned, Trumbullpassionately declared that Congress was being "coerced" by thePresident. "No one at a distance, " is the deliberate conclusion ofJulian who was present, "could have formed any adequate conception ofthe hostility of the Republican members toward Lincoln at the finaladjournment, while it was the belief of many that our last session ofCongress had been held in Washington. Mr. Wade said the country wasgoing to hell, and that the scenes witnessed in the French Revolutionwere nothing in comparison with what we should see here. "(16)

Lincoln endured the rage of Congress in unwavering serenity. On thelast day of the session, Congress surrendered and sent to him both theConfiscation Act and the explanatory resolution. Thereupon, he indulgedin what must have seemed to those fierce hysterical enemies of his awanton stroke of irony. He sent them along with his approval of the billthe text of the veto message he would have sent had they refused todo what he wanted. (17) There could be no concealing the fact that thePresident had matched his will against the will of Congress, and thatthe President had had his way. 

Out of this strange period of intolerable confusion, a gigantic figurehad at last emerged. The outer and the inner Lincoln had fused. He wasnow a coherent personality, masterful in spite of his gentleness, withhis own peculiar fashion of self-reliance, having a policy of his owndevising, his colors nailed upon the masthead. 

XXIII. THE MYSTICAL STATESMAN

Lincoln's final emergence was a deeper thing than merely theconsolidation of a character, the transformation of a dreamer into a manof action. The fusion of the outer and the inner person was the resultof a profound interior change. Those elements of mysticism which werein him from the first, which had gleamed darkly through such deepovershadowing, were at last established in their permanent form. Thepolitical tension had been matched by a spiritual tension with personalsorrow as the connecting link. In a word, he had found his religion. 

Lincoln's instinctive reticence was especially guarded, as any one mightexpect, in the matter of his belief. Consequently, the precise nature ofit has been much discussed. As we have seen, the earliest currentreport charged him with deism. The devoted Herndon, himself an agnostic, eagerly claims his hero as a member of the noble army of doubters. Elaborate arguments have been devised in rebuttal. The fault on bothsides is in the attempt to base an impression on detached remarks andin the further error of treating all these fragments as of one time, or more truly, as of no time, as if his soul were a philosopher of theabsolute, speaking oracularly out of a void. It is like the viciousreasoning that tortures systems of theology out of disconnected texts. 

Lincoln's religious life reveals the same general divisions that are tobe found in his active life: from the beginning to about the time of hiselection; from the close of 1860 to the middle of 1862; the remainder. 

Of his religious experience in the first period, very little isdefinitely known. What glimpses we have of it both fulfill andcontradict the forest religion that was about him in his youth. Thesuperstition, the faith in dreams, the dim sense of another worldsurrounding this, the belief in communion between the two, these arethe parts of him that are based unchangeably in the forest shadows. Butthose other things, the spiritual passions, the ecstacies, the vaguesensing of the terribleness of the creative powers, --to them alwayshe made no response. And the crude philosophizing of the foresttheologians, their fiercely simple dualism--God and Satan, thunder andlightning, the eternal war in the heavens, the eternal lake of fire--itmeant nothing to him. Like all the furious things of life, evil appearedto him as mere negation, a mysterious foolishness he could not explain. His aim was to forget it. Goodness and pity were the active elementsthat roused him to think of the other world; especially pity. The burdenof men's tears, falling ever in the shadows at the backs of things--thiswas the spiritual horizon from which he could not escape. Out of thecircle of that horizon he had to rise by spiritual apprehension in orderto be consoled. And there is no reason to doubt that at times, if notinvariably, in his early days, he did rise; he found consolation. Butit was all without form. It was a sentiment, a mood, --philosophicallybodiless. This indefinite mysticism was the real heart of the forestworld, closer than hands or feet, but elusive, incapable of formulation, a presence, not an idea. Before the task of expressing it, the forestmystic stood helpless. Just what it was that he felt impinging upon himfrom every side he did not know. He was like a sensitive man, neitherscientist nor poet, in the midst of a night of stars. The reality of hisexperience gave him no power either to explain or to state it. 

There is little reason to suppose that Lincoln's religious experienceprevious to 1860 was more than a recurrent visitor in his daily life. He has said as much himself. He told his friend Noah Brooks "he did notremember any precise time when he passed through any special change ofpurpose, or of heart, but he would say that his own election to officeand the crisis immediately following, influentially determined himin what he called 'a process of crystallization' then going on in hismind. "(1)

It was the terrible sense of need--the humility, the fear that he mightnot be equal to the occasion--that searched his soul, that bred in himthe craving for a spiritual up-holding which should be constant. And atthis crucial moment came the death of his favorite son. "In the lonelygrave of the little one lay buried Mr. Lincoln's fondest hopes, andstrong as he was in the matter of self-control, he gave way to anovermastering grief which became at length a serious menace to hishealth. "(2) Though firsthand accounts differ as to just how he struggledforth out of this darkness, all agree that the ordeal was very severe. Tradition makes the crisis a visit from the Reverend Francis Vinton, rector of Trinity Church, New York, and his eloquent assertion of thefaith in immortality, his appeal to Lincoln to remember the sorrowof Jacob over the loss of Joseph, and to rise by faith out of his ownsorrow even as the patriarch rose. (3)

Although Lincoln succeeded in putting his grief behind him, he neverforgot it. Long afterward, he called the attention of Colonel Cannon tothe lines in King John:

"And Father Cardinal, I have heard you say That we shall see and knowour friends in heaven; If that be true, I shall see my boy again. "

"Colonel, " said he, "did you ever dream of a lost friend, and feel thatyou were holding sweet communion with that friend, and yet have a sadconsciousness that it was not a reality? Just so, I dream of my boy, Willie. " And he bent his head and burst into tears. (4)

As he rose in the sphere of statecraft with such apparent suddenness outof the doubt, hesitation, self-distrust of the spring of 1862 and in thesummer found himself politically, so at the same time he found himselfreligiously. During his later life though the evidences are slight, theyare convincing. And again, as always, it is not a violent change thattakes place, but merely a better harmonization of the outer and lesssignificant part of him with the inner and more significant. Hisreligion continues to resist intellectual formulation. He never acceptedany definite creed. To the problems of theology, he applied the samesort of reasoning that he applied to the problems of the law. He made adistinction, satisfactory to himself at least, between the essentialand the incidental, and rejected everything that did not seem to himaltogether essential. 

In another negative way his basal part asserted itself. Just as in allhis official relations he was careless of ritual, so in religion he wasnot drawn to its ritualistic forms. Again, the forest temper surviving, changed, into such different conditions! Real and subtle as is theritualistic element, not only in religion but in life generally, one maydoubt whether it counts for much among those who have been formedmainly by the influences of nature. It implies more distance betweenthe emotion and its source, more need of stimulus to arouse and organizeemotion, than the children of the forest are apt to be aware of. Toinvoke a philosophical distinction, illumination rather than ritualism, the tense but variable concentration on a result, not the ordered modeof an approach, is what distinguishes such characters as Lincoln. It wasthis that made him careless &f form in all the departments of life. Itwas one reason why McClellan, born ritualist of the pomp of war, couldnever overcome a certain dislike, or at least a doubt, of him. 

Putting together his habit of thinking only in essentials and hispredisposition to neglect form, it is not strange that he said: "I havenever united myself to any church because I have found difficulty ingiving my assent, without mental reservation, to the long, complicatedstatements of Christian doctrine which characterize their Articles ofBelief and Confessions of Faith. When any church will inscribe over itsaltar, as its sole qualification for membership, the Savior's condensedstatement of the substance of both Law and Gospel, 'Thou shalt love theLord thy God, with all thy heart and with all thy soul, and with all thymind, and thy neighbor as thyself, ' that church will I join with all myheart and with all my soul. "(5)

But it must not be supposed that his religion was mere ethics. It hadthree cardinal possessions. The sense of God is through all his laterlife. It appears incidentally in his state papers, clothed with languagewhich, in so deeply sincere a man, must be taken literally. He believedin prayer, in the reality of communion with the Divine. His thirdarticle was immortality. 

At Washington, Lincoln was a regular attendant, though not acommunicant, of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church. With thePastor, the Reverend P. D. Gurley, he formed a close friendship. Manyhours they passed in intimate talk upon religious subjects, especiallyupon the question of immortality. (6) To another pious visitor he saidearnestly, "I hope I am a Christian. "(7) Could anything but the mostsecure faith have written this "Meditation on the Divine Will" which heset down in the autumn of 1862 for no eye but his own: "The will of Godprevails. In great contests each party claims to act in accordance withthe will of God. Both may be, and one must be, wrong. God can not be forand against the same thing at the same time. In the present civil warit is quite possible that God's purpose is something different from thepurpose of either party; and yet the human instrumentalities, workingjust as they do, are of the best adaptation to effect His purpose. Iam almost ready to say that this is probably true; that God wills thiscontest, and wills that it shall not end yet. By His mere great poweron the minds of the now contestants, He could have either saved ordestroyed the Union without a human contest. Yet the contest began. And, having begun, He could give the final victory to either side any day. Yet the contest proceeds. "(8)

His religion flowered in his later temper. It did not, to be sure, overcome his melancholy. That was too deeply laid. Furthermore, we failto discover in the surviving evidences any certainty that it was a gladphase of religion. Neither the ecstatic joy of the wild women, whichhis mother had; nor the placid joy of the ritualist, which he did notunderstand; nor those other variants of the joy of faith, were includedin his portion. It was a lofty but grave religion that matured in hisfinal stage. Was it due to far-away Puritan ancestors? Had austere, reticent Iron-sides, sure of the Lord, but taking no liberties withtheir souls, at last found out their descendant? It may be. Cromwell, in some ways, was undeniably his spiritual kinsman. In both, the samealoofness of soul, the same indifference to the judgments of the world, the same courage, the same fatalism, the same encompassment by theshadow of the Most High. Cromwell, in his best mood, had he beengifted with Lincoln's literary power, could have written the Fast DayProclamation of 1863 which is Lincoln's most distinctive religiousfragment. 

However, Lincoln's gloom had in it a correcting element which the oldPuritan gloom appears to have lacked. It placed no veto upon mirth. Rather, it valued mirth as its only redeemer. And Lincoln's growth inthe religious sense was not the cause of any diminution of hissurface hilarity. He saved himself from what otherwise would havebeen intolerable melancholy by seizing, regardless of the connection, anything whatsoever that savored of the comic. 

His religious security did not destroy his superstition. He continuedto believe that he would die violently at the end of his career asPresident. But he carried that belief almost with gaiety. He refused totake precautions for his safety. Long lonely rides in the dead of night;night walks with a single companion, were constant anxieties to hisintimates. To the President, their fears were childish. Although in thesensibilities he could suffer all he had ever suffered, and more; inthe mind he had attained that high serenity in which there can be noflagging of effort because of the conviction that God has decreed one'swork; no failure of confidence because of the twin conviction thatsomehow, somewhere, all things work together for good. "I am gladof this interview, " he said in reply to a deputation of visitors, inSeptember, 1862, "and glad to know that I have your sympathy and yourprayers. . I happened to be placed, being a humble instrument in thehands of our Heavenly Father, as I am, and as we all are, to work outHis great purpose. . . . I have sought His aid; but if after endeavoringto do my best in the light He affords me, I find my efforts fail, I mustbelieve that for some purpose unknown to me He wills it otherwise. If Ihad my way, this war would never have commenced. If I had been allowedmy way, this war would have been ended before this; but it stillcontinues and we must believe that He permits it for some wise purposeof His own, mysterious and unknown to us; and though with our limitedunderstandings we may not be able to comprehend it, yet we can not butbelieve that He who made the world still governs it. "(9)

XXIV. GAMBLING IN GENERALS

On July 22, 1862, there was a meeting of the Cabinet. The sessions ofLincoln's Council were the last word for informality. The Presidentand the Ministers interspersed their great affairs with mere talk, story-telling, gossip. With one exception they were all lovers oftheir own voices, especially in the telling of tales. Stanton was theexception. Gloomy, often in ill-health, innocent of humor, he gloweredwhen the others laughed. When the President, instead of proceeding atonce to business, would pull out of his pocket the latest volume ofArtemus Ward, the irate War Minister felt that the overthrow ofthe nation was impending. But in this respect, the President wasincorrigible. He had been known to stop the line of his guests at apublic levee, while he talked for some five minutes in a whisper to animportant personage; and though all the room thought that jupiter wasimparting state secrets, in point of fact, he was making sure of a goodstory the great man had told him a few days previous. (1) His Cabinetmeetings were equally careless of social form. The Reverend RobertCollyer was witness to this fact in a curious way. Strolling throughthe White House grounds, "his attention was suddenly arrested by theapparition of three pairs of feet resting on the ledge of an open windowin one of the apartments of the second story and plainly visible frombelow. " He asked a gardener for an explanation. The brusk reply was:"Why, you old fool, that's the Cabinet that is a-settin', and them tharbig feet are ole Abe's. "(2)

When the Ministers assembled on July twenty-second they had nointimation that this was to be a record session. Imagine theastonishment when, in his usual casual way, though with none of thathesitancy to which they had grown accustomed, Lincoln announced hisnew policy, adding that he "wished it understood that the question wassettled in his own mind; that he had decreed emancipation in a certaincontingency and the responsibility of the measure was his. "(3) Presidentand Cabinet talked it over in their customary offhand way, and Sewardmade a suggestion that instantly riveted Lincoln's attention. Sewardthought the moment was ill-chosen. "If the Proclamation were issued now, it would be received and considered as a despairing cry--a shriek fromand for the Administration, rather than for freedom. "(4) He addedthe picturesque phrase, "The government stretching forth its handsto Ethiopia, instead of Ethiopia stretching forth her hands to thegovernment. " This idea struck Lincoln with very great force. It was anaspect of the case "which he had entirely overlooked. "(5) He acceptedSeward's advice, laid aside the proclamation he had drafted and turnedagain with all his energies to the organization of victory. 

The next day Halleck arrived at Washington. He was one of Lincoln'smistakes. However, in his new mood, Lincoln was resolved to act on hisown opinion of the evidence before him, especially in estimating men. Itis just possible that this epoch of his audacities began in a reaction;that after too much self-distrust, he went briefly to the other extreme, indulging in too much self-confidence. Be that as it may, he had formedexaggerated opinions of both these Western generals, Halleck andPope. Somehow, in the brilliant actions along the Mississippi they hadabsorbed far more than their fair share of credit. Particularly, Lincolnwent astray with regard to Pope. Doubtless a main reason why he acceptedthe plan of campaign suggested by Halleck was the opportunity which itoffered to Pope. Perhaps, too, the fatality in McClellan's characterturned the scale. He begged to be left where he was with his base onJames River, and to be allowed to renew the attack on Richmond. 1 Buthe did not take the initiative. The government must swiftly hurryup reinforcements, and then--the old, old story! Obviously, it was aquestion at Washington either of superseding McClellan and leavingthe army where it was, or of shifting the army to some other commanderwithout in so many words disgracing McClellan. Halleck's approval of thelatter course jumped with two of Lincoln's impulses--his trust in Pope, his reluctance to disgrace McClellan. Orders were issued transferringthe bulk of the army of the Potomac to the new army of Virginia lyingsouth of Washington under the command of Pope. McClellan was instructedto withdraw his remaining forces from the Peninsula and retrace hiscourse up the Potomac. (6)

Lincoln had committed one of his worst blunders. Herndon has a curious, rather subtle theory that while Lincoln's judgments of men in theaggregate were uncannily sure, his judgments of men individually wereunreliable. It suggests the famous remark of Goethe that his views ofwomen did not derive from experience; that they antedated experience;and that he corrected experience by them. Of the confessed artist thismay be true. The literary concept which the artist works with is often, apparently, a more constant, more fundamental, more significant thing, than is the broken, mixed, inconsequential impression out of which ithas been wrought. Which seems to explain why some of the writers whounderstand human nature so well in their books, do not always understandpeople similarly well in life. And always it is to be remembered thatLincoln was made an artist by nature, and made over into a man of actionby circumstance. If Herndon's theory has any value it is in assertinghis occasional danger--by no means a constant danger--of forming in hismind images of men that were more significant than it was possible forthe men themselves to be. John Pope was perhaps his worst instance. Anincompetent general, he was capable of things still less excusable. Justafter McClellan had so tragically failed in the Seven Days, when Lincolnwas at the front, Pope was busy with the Committee, assuring themvirtually that the war had been won in the West, and that onlyMcClellan's bungling had saved the Confederacy from speedy death. (7) Butsomehow Lincoln trusted him, and continued to trust him even after hehad proved his incompetency in the catastrophe at Manassas. 

During August, Pope marched gaily southward issuing orders thatwere shot through with bad rhetoric, mixing up army routine and suchirrelevant matters as "the first blush of dawn. "

Lincoln was confident of victory. And after victory would come the newpolicy, the dissipation of the European storm-cloud, the break-up of thevindictive coalition of Jacobins and Abolitionists, the new enthusiasmfor the war. But of all this, the incensed Abolitionists received nohint. The country rang with their denunciations of the President. Atlength, Greeley printed in The Tribune an open letter called "The Prayerof Twenty Millions. " It was an arraignment of what Greeley chose toregard as the pro-slavery policy of the Administration. This was onAugust twentieth. Lincoln, in high hope that a victory was at hand, seized the opportunity both to hint to the country that he was about tochange his policy, and to state unconditionally his reason for changing. He replied to Greeley through the newspapers:

"As to the policy I 'seem to be pursuing, ' as you say, I have meant toleave no one in doubt. 

"I would save the Union. I would save it the shortest way under theConstitution. The sooner the national authority can be restored, thenearer the Union will be 'the Union as it was' If there be thosewho would not save the Union unless they could at the same time saveSlavery, I do not agree with them. If there be those who would not savethe Union, unless they could at the same time destroy slavery, I do notagree with them. My paramount object in this struggle is to save theUnion, and it is not either to save or destroy slavery. If I could savethe Union without freeing any slave, I would do it; and if I could saveit by freeing all the slaves, I would do it; and if I could save it byfreeing some of the slaves and leaving others alone, I would also dothat. What I do about slavery and the colored race, I do because Ibelieve it will help to save the Union; and what I forbear, I forbearbecause I do not believe it would help to save the Union. I shall doless whenever I shall believe that what I am doing hurts the cause;and I shall do more whenever I believe that doing more will help thecause. "(8) The effect of this on the Abolitionists was only to increasetheir rage. The President was compared to Douglas with his indifferencewhether slavery was voted "up or down. "(9) Lincoln, now so firmlyhopeful, turned a deaf ear to these railing accusations. He was intentupon watching the army. It was probably at this time that he reached anunfortunate conclusion with regard to McClellan. The transfer of forcesfrom the James River to northern Virginia had proceeded slowly. It gaverise to a new controversy, a new crop of charges. McClellan was accusedof being dilatory on purpose, of aiming to cause the failure of Pope. Lincoln accepted, at last, the worst view of him. He told Hay that "itreally seemed that McClellan wanted Pope defeated. . . . The Presidentseemed to think him a little crazy. "(10)

But still the confidence in Pope, marching so blithely through "theblush of dawn, " stood fast. If ever an Administration was in a fool'sparadise, it was Lincoln's, in the last few days of August, whileJackson was stealthily carrying out his great flanking movement gettingbetween Pope and Washington. However, the Suspicious Stanton kept hiseyes on McClellan. He decided that troops were being held back fromPope; and he appealed to other members of the Cabinet to join with himin a formal demand upon the President for McClellan's dismissal fromthe army. While the plan was being discussed, came the appalling news ofPope's downfall. 

The meeting of the Cabinet, September second, was another revelation ofthe new independence of the President. Three full days had passed sincePope had telegraphed that the battle was lost and that he no longerhad control of his army. The Ministers, awaiting the arrival of thePresident, talked excitedly, speculating what would happen next. "Itwas stated, " says Welles in his diary, "that Pope was falling back, intending to retreat within the Washington entrenchments, Blair, whohas known him intimately, says he is a braggart and a liar, with somecourage, perhaps, but not much capacity. The general conviction is thathe is a failure here, and there is a belief . . . That he has notbeen seconded and sustained as he should have been by McClellan . . . "Stanton entered; terribly agitated. He had news that fell upon theCabinet like a bombshell. He said "in a suppressed voice, tremblingwith excitement, he was informed that McClellan had been ordered to takecommand of the forces in Washington. "

Never was there a more tense moment in the Cabinet room than whenLincoln entered that day. And all could see that he was in deepdistress. But he confirmed Stanton's information. That very morninghe had gone himself to McClellan's house and had asked him to resumecommand. Lincoln discussed McClellan with the Cabinet quite simply, admitting all his bad qualities, but finding two points in hisfavor--his power of organization, and his popularity with the men. (11)

He was still more frank with his Secretaries. "'He has acted badly inthis matter, ' Lincoln said to Hay, 'but we must use what tools we have. There is no man in the army who can man these fortifications and lickthese troops of ours into shape half as well as he. ' I spoke of thegeneral feeling against McClellan as evinced by the President's mail. Herejoined: 'Unquestionably, he has acted badly toward Pope; he wantedhim to fail. That is unpardonable, but he is too useful now tosacrifice. '"(12) At another time, he said: "'If he can't fight himself, he excels in making others ready to fight. '"(13)

McClellan justified Lincoln's confidence. In this case, Herndon's theoryof Lincoln's powers of judgment does not apply. Though probably unfairon the one point of McClellan's attitude to Pope, he knew his manotherwise. Lincoln had also discovered that Halleck, the veriestmartinet of a general, was of little value at a crisis. During the nexttwo months, McClellan, under the direct oversight of the President, wasthe organizer of victory. 

Toward the middle of September, when Lee and McClellan were graduallyconverging upon the fated line of Antietam Creek, Lincoln's new firmnesswas put to the test. The immediate effect of Manassas was another, astill more vehement outcry for an anti-slavery policy. A deputation ofChicago clergymen went to Washington for the purpose of urging himto make an anti-slavery pronouncement. The journey was a continuousovation. If at any time Lincoln was tempted to forget Seward's worldlywisdom, it was when these influential zealots demanded of him to do thevery thing he intended to do. But it was one of the characteristics ofthis final Lincoln that when once he had fully determined on a course ofaction, nothing could deflect him. With consummate coolness he gavethem no new light on his purpose. Instead, he seized the opportunityto "feel" the country. He played the role of advocate arguing the caseagainst an emancipation policy. (14) They met his argument with greatSpirit and resolution. Taking them as an index, there could be littlequestion that the country was ripe for the new policy. At the closeof the interview Lincoln allowed himself to jest. One of the clergymendramatically charged him to give heed to their message as to a directcommission from the Almighty. "Is it not odd, " said Lincoln, "that theonly channel he could send it was that roundabout route by the awfullywicked city of Chicago?"*

 * Reminiscences, 335. This retort is given by Schuyler Colfax. There are various reports of what Lincoln said. In another version, "I hope it will not be irreverent for me to say that if it is probable that God would reveal His will to others on a point so connected with my duty, it might be supposed He would reveal it directly to me. " Tarbell, II, 12. 

Lincoln's pertinacity, holding fast the program he had accepted, came toits reward. On the seventeenth occurred that furious carnage along theAntietam known as the bloodiest single day of the whole war. Militarymen have disagreed, calling it sometimes a victory, sometimes a drawnbattle. In Lincoln's political strategy the dispute is immaterial. Psychologically, it was a Northern victory. The retreat of Lee wasregarded by the North as the turn of the tide. Lincoln's opportunity hadarrived. 

Again, a unique event occurred in a Cabinet meeting. On thetwenty-second of September, with the cannon of Antietam still ringingin their imagination, the Ministers were asked by the President whetherthey had seen the new volume just published by Artemus Ward. As they hadnot, he produced it and read aloud with evident relish one of those bitsof nonsense which, in the age of Dickens, seemed funny enough. Mostof the Cabinet joined in the merriment--Stanton, of course, as always, excepted. Lincoln closed the book, pulled himself together, and becameserious. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, according to the diary of Secretary Chase, "Ihave, as you are aware, thought a great deal about the relation of thiswar to slavery; and you all remember that several weeks ago I read youan order I had prepared on this subject, which, on account of objectionsmade by some of you, was not issued. Ever since, my mind has been muchoccupied with this subject, and I have thought all along that the timefor acting on it might probably come. I think the time has come now. Iwish it was a better time. I wish that we were in a better condition. The action of the army against the Rebels has not been quite what Ishould have best liked. But they have been driven out of Maryland; andPennsylvania is no longer in danger of invasion. When the Rebel armywas at Frederick, I determined, as soon as it should be driven out ofMaryland, to issue a proclamation of emancipation, such as I thoughtmost likely to be useful. I said nothing to any one, but I made thepromise to myself, and (hesitating a little) to my Maker. The Rebel armyis now driven out and I am going to fulfill that promise. I have gotyou together to hear what I have written down. I do not wish your adviceabout the main matter, for that I have determined for myself. This, Isay without intending anything but respect for any one of you. ButI already know the views of each on this question. They have beenheretofore expressed, and I have considered them as thoroughly and ascarefully as I can. What I have written is that which my reflectionshave determined me to say. . . . I must do the best I can, and bear theresponsibility of taking the course which I feel I ought to take. "(15)The next day the Proclamation was published. 

This famous document (16) is as remarkable for the parts of it that arenow forgotten as for the rest. The remembered portion is a warning thaton the first of January, one hundred days subsequent to the date of theProclamation--"all persons held as slaves within any State or designatedpart of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion againstthe United States, shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free. " Theforgotten portions include four other declarations of executive policy. Lincoln promised that "the Executive will in due time recommend that allcitizens of the United States who have remained loyal thereto shall becompensated for all losses by acts of the United States, including theloss of slaves. " He announced that he would again urge upon Congress"the adoption of a practical measure tendering pecuniary aid" to all theloyal Slave States that would "voluntarily adopt immediate or gradualabolishment of slavery within their limits. " He would continue to advisethe colonization of free Africans abroad. There is still to be mentioneda detail of the Proclamation which, except for its historical settingin the general perspective of Lincoln's political strategy, would appearinexplicable. One might expect in the opening statement, where theauthor of the Proclamation boldly assumes dictatorial power, animmediate linking of that assumption with the matter in hand. But thisdoes not happen. The Proclamation begins with the following paragraph:

"I, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States of America, andCommander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy thereof, do hereby proclaim anddeclare that hereafter, as heretofore, the war will be prosecuted forthe object of practically restoring the constitutional relation betweenthe United States and each of the States and the people thereof in whichStates that relation is or may be suspended or disturbed. "

XXV. A WAR BEHIND THE SCENES

By the autumn of 1862, Lincoln had acquired the same political methodthat Seward had displayed in the spring of 1861. What a chasm separatesthe two Lincolns! The cautious, contradictory, almost timid statesman ofthe Sumter episode; the confident, unified, quietly masterful statesmanof the Emancipation Proclamation. Now, in action, he was capable ofstaking his whole future on the soundness of his own thinking, on hisown ability to forecast the inevitable. Without waiting for the resultsof the Proclamation to appear, but in full confidence that he had drivena wedge between the Jacobins proper and the mere Abolitionists, he threwdown the gage of battle on the issue of a constitutional dictatorship. Two days after issuing the Proclamation he virtually proclaimed himselfdictator. He did so by means of a proclamation which divested the wholeAmerican people of the privileges of the writ of habeas corpus. Theoccasion was the effort of State governments to establish conscriptionof their militia. The Proclamation delivered any one impeding thatattempt into the hands of the military authorities without trial. 

Here was Lincoln's final answer to Stevens; here, his audaciouschallenge to the Jacobins. And now appeared the wisdom of his politicalstrategy, holding back emancipation until Congress was out of the way. Had Congress been in session what a hubbub would have ensued! Chandler, Wade, Trumbull, Sumner, Stevens, all hurrying to join issue on thedictatorship; to get it before the country ahead of emancipation. Rather, one can not imagine Lincoln daring to play this second card, sosoon after the first, except with abundant time for the two issues todisentangle themselves in the public mind ere Congress met. And that waswhat happened. When the Houses met in December, the Jacobins foundtheir position revolutionized. The men who, in July at the head of theVindictive coalition, dominated Congress, were now a minority factionbiting their nails at the President amid the ruins of their coalition. 

There were three reasons for this collapse. First of all, theAbolitionists, for the moment, were a faction by themselves. Six weekshad sufficed to intoxicate them with their opportunity. The significanceof the Proclamation had had time to arise towering on their spiritualvision, one of the gates of the New Jerusalem. 

Limited as it was in application who could doubt that, with onecondition, it doomed slavery everywhere. The condition was a successfulprosecution of the war, the restoration of the Union. Consequently, atthat moment, nothing that made issue with the President, thatthreatened any limitation of his efficiency, had the slightest chance ofAbolitionist support. The one dread that alarmed the whole Abolitionistgroup was a possible change in the President's mood, a possiblerecantation on January first. In order to hold him to his word, theywere ready to humor him as one might cajole, or try to cajole, a monsterthat one was afraid of. No time, this, to talk to Abolitionists aboutstrictly constitutional issues, or about questions of party leadership. Away with all your "gabble" about such small things! The Jacobins sawthe moving hand--at least for this moment--in the crumbling wall of thepalace of their delusion. 

Many men who were not Abolitionists perceived, before Congress met, that Lincoln had made a great stroke internationally. The "Liberal partythroughout the world" gave a cry of delight, and rose instantly to hissupport. John Bright declared that the Emancipation Proclamation "madeit impossible for England to intervene for the South" and derided "thesilly proposition of the French Emperor looking toward intervention. "(1)Bright's closest friend in America was Sumner and Sumner was chairmanof the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations. He understood the valueof international sentiment, its working importance, as good provincialslike Chandler did not. Furthermore, he was always an Abolitionist firstand a Jacobin second--if at all. From this time forward, the Jacobinswere never able to count on him, not even when they rebuilt theVindictive Coalition a year and a half later. In December, 1862, how didthey dare--true blue politicians that they were--how did they dare raisea constitutional issue involving the right of the President to capture, in the way he had, international security?

The crowning irony in the new situation of the Jacobins was therevelation that they had played unwittingly into the hands of theDemocrats. Their short-sighted astuteness in tying up emancipation withthe war powers was matched by an equal astuteness equally short-sighted. The organization of the Little Men, when it refused to endorse Lincoln'sall-parties program, had found itself in the absurd position of a partywithout an issue. It contained, to be sure, a large proportion of theNortherners who were opposed to emancipation. But how could it make anissue upon emancipation, as long as the President, the object of itsantagonism, also refused to support emancipation? The sole argumentin the Cabinet against Lincoln's new policy was that it would give theDemocrats an issue. Shrewd Montgomery Blair prophesied that on thisissue they could carry the autumn elections for Congress. Lincoln hadreplied that he would take the risk. He presented them with the issue. They promptly accepted it But they did not stop there. They aimedto take over the whole of the position that had been vacated by thecollapse of the Vindictive Coalition. By an adroit bit of politicallegerdemain they would steal their enemies' thunder, reunite theemancipation issue with the issue of the war powers, reverse thesignificance of the conjunction, and, armed with this double club, theywould advance from a new and unexpected angle and win the leadership ofthe country by overthrowing the dictator. And this, they came very neardoing. On their double issue they rallied enough support to increasetheir number in Congress by thirty-three. Had not the moment been sotragic, nothing could have been more amusing than the helpless wrath ofthe Jacobins caught in their own trap, compelled to gnaw their tonguesin silence, while the Democrats, paraphrasing their own arguments, hurled defiant at Lincoln. 

Men of intellectual courage might have broken their party ranks, daringly applied Lincoln's own maxim "stand with any one who standsright, " and momentarily joined the Democrats in their battle againstthe two proclamations. But in American politics, with a few gloriousexceptions, courage of this sort has never been the order of the day. The Jacobins kept their party line; bowed their heads to the storm; andbided their time. In the Senate, an indiscreet resolution commendingthe Emancipation Proclamation was ordered to be printed, and laid on thetable. (2) In the House, party exigencies were more exacting. Despitethe Democratic successes, the Republicans still had a majority. When theDemocrats made the repudiation of the President a party issue, arguingon those very grounds that had aroused the eloquence of Stevens and therest--why, what's the Constitution between friends! Or between politicalenemies? The Democrats forced all the Republicans into one boat byintroducing a resolution "That the policy of emancipation as indicatedin that Proclamation is an assumption of powers dangerous to the rightsof citizens and to the perpetuity of a free people. " The resolution wasrejected. Among those who voted NO was Stevens. (3) Indeed, the star ofthe Jacobins was far down on the horizon. 

But the Jacobins were not the men to give up the game until they werecertainly in the last ditch. Though their issues had been slipped out oftheir hands; though for the moment at least, it was not good policyto fight the President on a principle; it might still be possible torecover their prestige on some other contention. The first of Januarywas approaching. The final proclamation of emancipation would bringto an end the temporary alliance of the Administration and theAbolitionists. Who could say what new pattern of affairs the politicalkaleidoscope might not soon reveal? Surely the Jacobin cue was to busythemselves, straightway, making trouble for the President. Principlesbeing unavailable, practices might do. And who was satisfied with theway the war was going? To rouse the party against the Administrationon the ground of inefficient practices, of unsatisfactory militaryprogress, might be the first step toward regaining their formerdominance. 

There was a feather in the wind that gave them hope. The ominousfirst paragraph of the Emancipation Proclamation was evidence thatthe President was still stubbornly for his own policy; that he had notsurrendered to the opposite view. But this was not their only strategichope. Lincoln's dealings with the army between September and Decembermight, especially if anything in his course proved to be mistaken, deliver him into their hands. 

Following Antietam, Lincoln had urged upon McClellan swift pursuitof Lee. His despatches were strikingly different from those of thepreceding spring. That half apologetic tone had disappeared. Though theydid not command, they gave advice freely. The tone was at least thatof an equal who, while not an authority in this particular matter, isentitled to express his views and to have them taken seriously. 

"You remember my speaking to you of what I called your overcautiousness?Are you not over-cautious when you assume that you can not do what theenemy is constantly doing? Should you not claim to be at least his equalin prowess and act upon that claim . . . One of the standard maxims ofwar, as you know, is to operate upon the enemy's communications asmuch as possible without exposing your own. You seem to act as if thisapplies against you, but can not apply in your favor. Change positionswith the enemy and think you not he would break your communications withRichmond within the next twenty-four hours. . . . 

"If he should move northward, I would follow him closely, holding hiscommunications. If he should prevent your seizing his communicationsand move toward Richmond; I would press closely to him, fight him if afavorable opportunity should present, and at least try to beat him toRichmond on the inside track. I say 'try'; if we never try we shallnever succeed. . . . We should not operate so as to merely drive himaway. . . . This letter is in no sense an order. "(4)

But once more the destiny that is in character intervened, andMcClellan's tragedy reached its climax. His dread of failure hypnotizedhis will. So cautious were his movements that Lee regained Virginia withhis army intact. Lincoln was angry. Military amateur though he was, hehad filled his spare time reading books on strategy, Von Clausewitzand the rest, and he had grasped the idea that war's aim is not to wintechnical victories, nor to take cities, but to destroy armies. He feltthat McClellan had thrown away an opportunity of first magnitude. Heremoved him from command. (5)

This was six weeks after the two proclamations. The country was ringingwith Abolition plaudits. The election had given the Democrats a newlease of life. The anti-Lincoln Republicans were silent while theirparty enemies with their stolen thunder rang the changes on thepresidential abuse of the war powers. It was a moment of crisis in partypolitics. Where did the President stand? What was the outlook for thosemen who in the words of Senator Wilson "would rather give a policy tothe President of the United States than take a policy from the Presidentof the United States. "

Lincoln's situation was a close parallel to the situation of July, 1861, when McDowell failed. Just as in choosing a successor to McDowell, herevealed a political attitude, now, he would again make a revelationchoosing a successor to McClellan. By passing over Fremont and byelevating a Democrat, he had spoken to the furious politicians in thelanguage they understood. Whatever appointment he now made would beinterpreted by those same politicians in the same way. In the atmosphereof that time, there was but one way for Lincoln to rank himself asa strict party man, to recant his earlier heresy of presidentialindependence, and say to the Jacobins, "I am with you. " He must appointa Republican to succeed McClellan. Let him do that and the CongressionalCabal would forgive him. But he did not do it. He swept politicalconsiderations aside and made a purely military appointment Burnside, onwhom he fixed, was the friend and admirer of McClellan and might fairlybe considered next to him in prestige. He was loved by his troops. Inthe eyes of the army, his elevation represented "a legitimate successionrather than the usurpation of a successful rival. "(6) He was modest. He did not want promotion. Nevertheless, Lincoln forced him to takeMcClellan's place against his will, in spite of his protest that he hadnot the ability to command so large an army. (7)

When Congress assembled and the Committee resumed its inquisition, Burnside was moving South on his fated march to Fredericksburg. TheCommittee watched him like hungry wolves. Woe to Burnside, woe toLincoln, if the General failed! Had the Little Men possessed any sortof vision they would have seized their opportunity to become thePresident's supporters. But they, like the Jacobins, were partisansfirst and patriots second. In the division among the Republicans theysaw, not a chance to turn the scale in the President's favor, buta chance to play politics on their own account. A picturesque Ohiopolitician known as "Sunset" Cox opened the ball of their fatuousnesswith an elaborate argument in Congress to the effect that the Presidentwas in honor bound to regard the recent elections as strictly analogousto an appeal to the country in England; that it was his duty to remodelhis policy to suit the Democrats. Between the Democrats and the JacobinsLincoln was indeed between the devil and the deep blue sea with no onecertainly on his side except the volatile Abolitionists whom he did nottrust and who did not trust him. A great victory might carry him over. But a great defeat--what might not be the consequence!

On the thirteenth of December, through Burnside's stubborn incompetence, thousands of American soldiers flung away their lives in a holocaust ofuseless valor at Fredericksburg. Promptly the Jacobins acted. They setup a shriek: the incompetent President, the all-parties dreamer, theman who persists in coquetting with the Democrats, is blundering intodestruction! Burnside received the dreaded summons from the Committee. So staggering was the shock of horror that even moderate Republicanswere swept away in a new whirlpool of doubt. 

But even thus it was scarcely wise, the Abolitionists being stillfearful over the emancipation policy, to attack the President direct. Nevertheless, the resourceful Jacobins found a way to begin their newcampaign. Seward, the symbol of moderation, the unforgivable enemy ofthe Jacobins, had recently earned anew the hatred of the Abolitionists. Letters of his to Charles Francis Adams had appeared in print. Some oftheir expressions had roused a storm. For example: "extreme advocates ofAfrican slavery and its most vehement exponents are acting in concerttogether to precipitate a servile war. "(8) To be sure, the date ofthis letter was long since, before he and Lincoln had changed ground onemancipation, but that did not matter. He had spoken evil of the cause;he should suffer. All along, the large number that were incapable ofappreciating his lack of malice had wished him out of the Cabinet. AsLincoln put it: "While they seemed to believe in my honesty, they alsoappeared to think that when I had in me any good purpose or intention, Seward contrived to suck it out of me unperceived. "(9)

The Jacobins were skilful politicians. A caucus of RepublicanSenators was stampeded by the cry that Seward was the master of theAdministration, the chief explanation of failure. It was Seward who hadbrought them to the verge of despair. A committee was named to demandthe reorganization of the Cabinet Thereupon, Seward, informed of thisaction, resigned. The Committee of the Senators called upon Lincoln. Helistened; did not commit himself; asked them to call again; and turnedinto his own thoughts for a mode of saving the day. 

During twenty months, since their clash in April, 1861, Seward andLincoln had become friends; not merely official associates, but genuinecomrades. Seward's earlier condescension had wholly disappeared. Perhapshis new respect for Lincoln grew out of the President's silence afterSumter. A few words revealing the strange meddling of the Secretaryof State would have turned upon Seward the full fury of suspicion thatdestroyed McClellan. But Lincoln never spoke those words. Whatever blamethere was for the failure of the Sumter expedition, he quietly acceptedas his own. Seward, whatever his faults, was too large a nature, toogenuinely a lover of courage, of the nonvindictive temper, not tobe struck with admiration. Watching with keen eyes the unfolding ofLincoln, Seward advanced from admiration to regard. After a while hecould write, "The President is the best of us. " He warmed to him;he gave out the best of himself. Lincoln responded. While the othersecretaries were useful, Seward became necessary. Lincoln, in these darkdays, found comfort in his society. (10) Lincoln was not going to allowSeward to be driven out of the Cabinet. But how could he prevent it?He could not say. He was in a quandary. For the moment, the Republicanleaders were so nearly of one mind in their antagonism to Seward, thatit demanded the greatest courage to oppose them. But Lincoln does notappear to have given a thought to surrender. What puzzled him was themode of resistance. 

Now that he was wholly himself, having confidence in whatever mode ofprocedure his own thought approved, he had begun using methods that thepoliticians found disconcerting. The second conference with the Senatorswas an instance. Returning in the same mood in which they had lefthim, with no suspicion of a surprise in store, the Senators to theiramazement were confronted by the Cabinet--or most of it, Seward beingabsent. (11) The Senators were put out. This simple maneuver by thePresident was the beginning of their discomfiture. It changed theirrole from the ambassadors of an ultimatum to the participants in aconference. But even thus, they might have succeeded in dominating theevent, though it is hardly conceivable that they could have carriedtheir point; they might have driven Lincoln into a corner; had itnot been for the make-up of one man. Again, the destiny that is incharacter! Lincoln was delivered from a quandary by the course which theSecretary of the Treasury could not keep himself from pursuing. 

Chase, previous to this hour, may truly be called an imposing figure. As a leader of the extreme Republicans, he had earned much fame. Lincolnhad given him a free hand in the Treasury and all the financial measuresof the government were his. Hitherto, Vindictives of all sorts had lovedhim. He was a critic of the President's mildness, and a severe critic ofSeward. But Chase was not candid. Though on the surface he scrupulouslyavoided any hint of cynicism, any point of resemblance to Seward, he wasin fact far more devious, much more capable of self-deception. He hadlittle of Seward's courage, and none of his aplomb. His condemnation ofSeward had been confided privately to Vindictive brethren. 

When the Cabinet and the Senators met, Chase was placed in a situationof which he had an instinctive horror. His caution, his secretiveness, his adroit confidences, his skilful silences, had created in these twogroups of men, two impressions of his character. The Cabinet knew him asthe faithful, plausible Minister who found the money for the President. The Senators, or some of them, knew him as the discontented Minister whowas their secret ally. For the two groups to compare notes, to check uptheir impressions, meant that Chase was going to be found out. And itwas the central characteristic of Chase that he had a horror of beingfound out. 

The only definite result of the conference was Chase's realization whenthe Senators departed that mischance was his portion. In the presence ofthe Cabinet he had not the face to stick to his guns. He feebly defendedSeward. The Senators opened their eyes and stared. The ally they hadcounted on had failed them. Chase bit his lips and was miserable. 

The night that followed was one of deep anxiety for Lincoln. He wasstill unable to see his way out. But all the while the predestination inChase's character was preparing the way of escape. Chase was desperatelytrying to discover how to save his face. An element in him thatapproached the melodramatic at last pointed the way. He would resign. What an admirable mode of recapturing the confidence of his disappointedfriends, carrying out their aim to disrupt the Cabinet! But he couldnot do a bold thing like this in Seward's way--at a stroke, withouthesitation. When he called on Lincoln the next day with the resignationin his hand, he wavered. It happened that Welles was in the room. 

"Chase said he had been painfully affected, " is Welles' account, "bythe meeting last evening, which was a surprise, and after some not veryexplicit remarks as to how he was affected, informed the President hehad prepared his resignation of the office of Secretary of the Treasury. 'Where is it, ' said the President, quickly, his eye lighting up in amoment. 'I brought it with me, ' said Chase, taking the paper from hispocket. 'I wrote it this morning. ' 'Let me have it, ' said the President, reaching his long arm and fingers toward Chase, who held on seeminglyreluctant to part with the letter which was sealed and which heapparently hesitated to surrender. Something further he wished tosay, but the President was eager and did not perceive it, but took andhastily opened the letter. 

"'This, ' said he, looking towards me with a triumphal laugh, 'cuts theGordian knot. ' An air of satisfaction spread over his countenance suchas I had not seen for some time. 'I can dispose of this subject nowwithout difficulty, ' he added, as he turned in his chair; 'I see my wayclear. '"(12) In Lincoln's distress during this episode, there was muchbesides his anxiety for the fate of a trusted minister. He felt he mustnot permit himself to be driven into the arms of the Vindictives bydisgracing Seward. Seward had a following which Lincoln needed. But toproclaim to the world his confidence in Seward without at the same timeoffsetting it by some display of confidence, equally significant in theenemies of Seward, this would have amounted to committing himself toSeward's following alone. And that would not do. Should either factionappear to dominate him, Lincoln felt that "the whole government mustcave in. It could not stand, could not hold water; the bottom would beout. "(13)

The incredible stroke of luck, the sheer good fortune that Chase wasChase and nobody else, --vain, devious, stagey and hypersensitive, --wassalvation. Lincoln promptly rejected both resignations and called uponboth Ministers to resume their portfolios. They did so. The incident wasclosed. Neither faction could say that Lincoln had favored the other. He had saved himself, or rather, Chase's character had saved him, by themargin of a hair. 

For the moment, a rebuilding of the Vindictive Coalition was impossible. Nevertheless, the Jacobins, again balked of their prey, had it in theirpower, through the terrible Committee, to do immense mischief. Thehistory of the war contains no other instance of party malice quiteso fruitless and therefore so inexcusable as their next move. Afterseverely interrogating Burnside, they published an exoneration of hismotives and revealed the fact that Lincoln had forced him into commandagainst his will. The implication was plain. 

January came in. The Emancipation Proclamation was confirmed. Thejubilation of the Abolitionists became, almost at once, a propaganda foranother issue upon slavery. New troubles were gathering close about thePresident The overwhelming benefit which had been anticipated fromthe new policy had not clearly arrived. Even army enlistments werenot satisfactory. Conscription loomed on the horizon as an eventualnecessity. A bank of returning cloud was covering the political horizon, enshrouding the White House in another depth of gloom. 

However, out of all this gathering darkness, one clear light solacedLincoln's gaze. One of his chief purposes had been attained. In contrastto the doubtful and factional response to his policy at home, theresponse abroad was sweeping and unconditional. He had made himself thehero of the "Liberal party throughout the world. " Among the few cheerywords that reached him in January, 1863, were New Year greetings oftrust and sympathy sent by English working men, who, because of theblockade, were on the verge of starvation. It was in response to one ofthese letters from the working men of Manchester that Lincoln wrote:

"I have understood well that the duty of self-preservation rests solelywith the American people; but I have at the same time been aware thatthe favor or disfavor of foreign nations might have a material influencein enlarging or prolonging the struggle with disloyal men in whichthe country is engaged. A fair examination of history has served toauthorize a belief that the past actions and influences of the UnitedStates were generally regarded as having been beneficial towardmankind. I have therefore reckoned upon the forbearance of nations. Circumstances--to some of which you kindly allude--induce me especiallyto expect that if justice and good faith should be practised by theUnited States they would encounter no hostile influence on the partof Great Britain. It is now a pleasant duty to acknowledge thedemonstration you have given of your desire that a spirit of amity andpeace toward this country may prevail in the councils of your Queen, whois respected and esteemed in your own country only more than she is, bythe kindred nation which has its home on this side of the Atlantic. 

"I know and deeply deplore the sufferings which the working men atManchester, and in all Europe, are called on to endure in this crisis. It has been often and studiously represented that the attempt tooverthrow this government which was built upon the foundation of humanrights, and to substitute for it one which should rest exclusively onthe basis of human slavery, was likely to obtain the favor of Europe. Through the action of our disloyal citizens, the working men of Europehave been subjected to severe trials for the purpose of forcing theirsanction to that attempt. Under the circumstances, I can not but regardyour decisive utterances upon the question as an instance of sublimeChristian heroism which has not been surpassed in any age or in anycountry. It is indeed an energetic and reinspiring assurance of theinherent power of the truth, and of the ultimate and universal triumphof justice, humanity and freedom. I do not doubt that the sentiments youhave expressed will be sustained by your great nation; and on theother hand, I have no hesitation in assuring you that they will exciteadmiration, esteem, and the most reciprocal feelings of friendship amongthe American people. I hail this interchange of sentiment, therefore, asan augury that whatever else may happen, whatever misfortune may befallyour country or my own, the peace and friendship which now existbetween the two nations, will be, as it shall be my desire to make them, perpetual. "(14)

XXVI. THE DICTATOR, THE MARPLOT AND THE LITTLE MEN

While the Jacobins were endeavoring to reorganize the Republicanantagonism to the President, Lincoln was taking thought how he couldoffset still more effectually their influence. In taking up theemancipation policy he had not abandoned his other policy of anall-parties Administration, or of something similar to that. By thistime it was plain that a complete union of parties was impossible. Inthe autumn of 1862, a movement of liberal Democrats in Michigan for thepurpose of a working agreement with the Republicans was frustrated bythe flinty opposition of Chandler. (1) However, it still seemed possibleto combine portions of parties in an Administration group that shouldforswear the savagery of the extreme factions and maintain the war in amerciful temper. The creation of such a group was Lincoln's aim at theclose of the year. 

The Republicans were not in doubt what he was driving at. Smarting overtheir losses in the election, there was angry talk that Lincoln andSeward had "slaughtered the Republican party. "(2) Even as sane a man asJohn Sherman, writing to his brother on the causes of the apparent turnof the tide could say "the first is that the Republican organization wasvoluntarily abandoned by the President and his leading followers, anda no-party union was formed to run against an old, well-drilled partyorganization. "(3) When Julian returned to Washington in December, hefound that the menace to the Republican machine was "generally admittedand (his) earnest opposition to it fully justified in the opinion ofthe Republican members of Congress. "(4) How fully they perceived theirdanger had been shown in their attempt to drive Lincoln into a corner onthe issue of a new Cabinet. 

Even before that, Lincoln had decided on his next move. As in theemancipation policy he had driven a wedge between the factions of theRepublicans, so now he would drive a wedge into the organization ofthe Democrats. It had two parts which had little to hold them togetherexcept their rooted partisan habit. (5) One branch, soon to receive thelabel "Copperhead, " accepted the secession principle and sympathizedwith the Confederacy. The other, while rejecting secession andsupporting the war, denounced the emancipation policy as usurpedauthority, and felt personal hostility to Lincoln. It was the latterfaction that Lincoln still hoped to win over. Its most important memberwas Horatio Seymour, who in the autumn of 1862 was elected governor ofNew York. Lincoln decided to operate on him by one of those astoundingmoves which to the selfless man seemed natural enough, by which theordinary politician was always hopelessly mystified. He called inThurlow Weed and authorized him to make this proposal: if Seymour wouldbring his following into a composite Union party with no platformbut the vigorous prosecution of the war, Lincoln would pledge all hisinfluence to securing for Seymour the presidential nomination in 1864. Weed delivered his message. Seymour was noncommittal and Lincoln had towait for his answer until the new Governor should show his hand byhis official acts. Meanwhile a new crisis had developed in the army. Burnside's character appears to have been shattered by his defeat. Previous to Fredericksburg, he had seemed to be a generous, high-mindedman. From Fredericksburg onward, he became more and more an impossible. A reflection of McClellan in his earlier stage, he was somehowtransformed eventually into a reflection of vindictivism. His latercharacter began to appear in his first conference with the Committeesubsequent to his disaster. They visited him on the field and "hisconversation disarmed all criticism. " This was because he struck theirown note to perfection. "Our soldiers, " he said, "were not sufficientlyfired by resentment, and he exhorted me (Julian) if I could, to breatheinto our people at home the same spirit toward our enemies whichinspired them toward us. "(6) What a transformation in McClellan'sdisciple!

But the country was not won over so easily as the Committee. There wasloud and general disapproval and of course, the habitual question, "Whonext?" The publication by the Committee of its insinuation that oncemore the stubborn President was the real culprit did not stem the tide. Burnside himself made his case steadily worse. His judgment, such asit was, had collapsed. He seemed to be stubbornly bent on a virtualrepetition of his previous folly. Lincoln felt it necessary to commandhim to make no forward move without consulting the President. (7)

Burnside's subordinates freely criticized their commander. GeneralHooker was the most outspoken. It was known that a movement wasafoot--an intrigue, if you will-to disgrace Burnside and elevate Hooker. Chafing under criticism and restraint, Burnside completely lost hissense of propriety. On the twenty-fourth of January, 1863, when HenryW. Raymond, the powerful editor of the New York Times, was on a visit tothe camp, Burnside took him into his tent and read him an order removingHooker because of his unfitness "to hold a command in a cause where somuch moderation, forbearance, and unselfish patriotism were required. "Raymond, aghast, inquired what he would do if Hooker resisted, if heraised his troops in mutiny? "He said he would Swing him before sundownif he attempted such a thing. "

Raymond, though more than half in sympathy with Burnside, felt that thesituation was startling. He hurried off to Washington. "I immediately, "he writes, "called upon Secretary Chase and told him the whole story. He was greatly surprised to hear such reports of Hooker, and said hehad looked upon him as the man best fitted to command the army of thePotomac. But no man capable of so much and such unprincipled ambitionwas fit for so great a trust, and he gave up all thought of himhenceforth. He wished me to go with him to his house and accompany himand his daughter to the President's levee. I did so and found a greatcrowd surrounding President Lincoln. I managed, however, to tell himin brief terms that I had been with the army and that many things wereoccurring there which he ought to know. I told him of the obstaclesthrown in Burnside's way by his subordinates and especially GeneralHooker's habitual conversation. He put his hand on my shoulder and saidin my ear as if desirous of not being overheard, 'That is all true;Hooker talks badly; but the trouble is, he is stronger with the countrytoday than any other man. ' I ventured to ask how long he would retainthat strength if his real conduct and character should be understood. 'The country, ' said he, 'would not believe it; they would say it was alla lie. '"(8)

Whether Chase did what he said he would do and ceased to be Hooker'sadvocate, may be questioned. Tradition preserves a deal between theSecretary and the General--the Secretary to urge his advancement, theGeneral, if he reached his goal, to content himself with military honorsand to assist the Secretary in succeeding to the Presidency. Hookerwas a public favorite. The dashing, handsome figure of "Fighting Joe"captivated the popular imagination. The terrible Committee were hisfriends. Military men thought him full of promise. On the whole, Lincoln, who saw the wisdom of following up his clash over the Cabinetby a concession to the Jacobins, was willing to take his chances withHooker. 

His intimate advisers were not of the same mind. They knew that therewas much talk on the theme of a possible dictator-not the constitutionaldictator of Lincoln and Stevens, but the old-fashioned dictator ofhistorical melodrama. Hooker was reported to have encouraged such talk. All this greatly alarmed one of Lincoln's most devoted henchmen--Lamon, Marshal of the District of Columbia, who regarded himself as personallyresponsible for Lincoln's safety. "In conversation with Mr. Lincoln, "says Lamon, "one night about the time General Burnside was relieved, Iwas urging upon him the necessity of looking well to the fact that therewas a scheme on foot to depose him, and to appoint a military dictatorin his stead. He laughed and said, 'I think, for a man of accreditedcourage, you are the most panicky person I ever knew; you can see moredangers to me than all the other friends I have. You are all the timeexercised about somebody taking my life; murdering me; and now youhave discovered a new danger; now you think the people of this greatgovernment are likely to turn me out of office. I do not fear this fromthe people any more than I fear assassination from an individual. Now toshow my appreciation of what my French friends would call a coup d'etat, let me read you a letter I have written to General Hooker whom I havejust appointed to the command of the army of the Potomac. "(9)

Few letters of Lincoln's are better known, few reveal more exactly thetone of his final period, than the remarkable communication he addressedto Hooker two days after that whispered talk with Raymond at the WhiteHouse levee:

"General, I have placed you at the head of the army of the Potomac. Ofcourse I have done this upon what appear to me to be sufficient reasons, and yet I think it best for you to know that there are some things inregard to which I am not quite satisfied with you. I believe you to be abrave and skilful soldier, which of course I like. I also believe you donot mix politics with your profession, in which you are right. You haveconfidence in yourself, which is a valuable, if not an indispensablequality. You are ambitious, which within reasonable bounds, does goodrather than harm; but I think that during General Burnside's commandof the army you have taken counsel of your ambition and thwarted him asmuch as you could, in which you did a great wrong to the country and toa most meritorious and honorable brother officer. I have heard in such away as to believe it, of your recently Saying that both the army andthe government needed a dictator. Of course it was not for this, but inspite of it, that I have given you the command. Only those generalswho gain successes can set up dictators. What I now ask you is militarysuccess, and I will risk the dictatorship. The government will supportyou to the utmost of its ability, which is neither more nor less thanit has done and will do for all commanders. I much fear that the spiritwhich you have aided to infuse into the army, of criticizing theircommander and withholding confidence from him, will now turn upon you. I shall assist you as far as I can to put it down. Neither you norNapoleon, if he were alive again, could get any good out of an armywhile such a Spirit prevails in it; and now beware of rashness. Bewareof rashness, but with energy and sleepless vigilance go forward and giveus victories. "(10)

The appointment of Hooker had the effect of quieting the Committee forthe time. Lincoln turned again to his political scheme, but not untilhe had made another military appointment from which at the moment noone could have guessed that trouble would ever come. He gave toBurnside what might be called the sinecure position of Commander of theDepartment of the Ohio with headquarters at Cincinnati. (11)

During the early part of 1863 Lincoln's political scheme received aserious blow. Seymour ranked himself as an irreconcilable enemy of theAdministration. The anti-Lincoln Republicans struck at the President inroundabout ways. Heralding a new attack, the best man on the Committee, Julian, ironically urged his associates in Congress to "rescue" thePresident from his false friends--those mere Unionists who were luringhim away from the party that had elected him, enticing him into a vaguenew party that should include "Democrats. " It was said that there wereonly two Lincoln men in the House. (12) Greeley was coquettingwith Rosecrans, trying to induce him to come forward as Republicanpresidential "timber. " The Committee in April published an elaboratereport which portrayed the army of the Potomac as an army of heroestragically afflicted in the past by the incompetence of theircommanders. The Democrats continued their abuse of the dictator. 

It was a moment of strained pause, everybody waiting upon circumstance. And in Washington, every eye was turned Southward. How soon would theyglimpse the first messenger from that glorious victory which "FightingJoe" had promised them. "The enemy is in my power, " said he, "and GodAlmighty can not deprive me of them. "(13)

Something of the difference between Hooker and Lincoln, between all theVindictives and Lincoln, may be felt by turning from these ribald wordsto that Fast Day Proclamation which this strange statesman issued to hispeople, that anxious spring, --that moment of trance as it were--when allthings seemed to tremble toward the last judgment:

"And whereas, it is the duty of nations as well as of men to own theirdependence upon the overruling power of God; to confess their sins andtransgressions in humble sorrow, yet with assured hope that genuinerepentance will lead to mercy and pardon; and to recognize the sublimetruth announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, thatthose nations only are blessed whose God is the Lord:

"And insomuch as we know that by His divine law nations, likeindividuals, are subjected to punishments and chastisements in thisworld, may we not justly fear that the awful calamity of civil war whichnow desolates the land may be but a punishment inflicted upon us for ourpresumptuous sins, to the needful end of our national reformation as awhole people. We have been the recipients of the choicest bountiesof Heaven. We have been preserved, these many years, in peace andprosperity. We have grown in numbers, wealth and power as no othernation has ever grown; but we have forgotten God. We have forgotten thegracious hand which preserved us in peace, and multiplied and enrichedand strengthened us; and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulnessof our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superiorwisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, wehave become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming andpreserving grace, too proud to pray to God that made us:

"It behooves us then to humble ourselves before the offended Power, toconfess our national sins, and to pray for clemency and forgiveness. 

"All this being done in sincerity and truth, let us then rest humbly inthe hope authorized by the divine teachings, that the united cry of thenation will be heard on high, and answered with blessings no less thanthe pardon of our national sins and the restoration of our now dividedand suffering country to its former happy condition of unity andpeace. "(14)

Alas, for such men as Hooker! What seemed to him in his vainglory beyondthe reach of Omnipotence, was accomplished by Lee and Jackson anda Confederate army at Chancellorsville. Profound gloom fell uponWashington. Welles heard the terrible news from Sumner who came into hisroom "and raising both hands exclaimed, 'Lost, lost, all is lost!'"(15)

The aftermath of Manassas was repeated. In the case of Pope, no efforthad been spared to save the friend of the Committee, to find some oneelse on whom to load his incompetence. The course was now repeated. Again, the Jacobins raised the cry, "We are betrayed!" Again, the stirto injure the President. Very strange are the ironies of history! Atthis critical moment, Lincoln's amiable mistake in sending Burnside toCincinnati demanded expiation. Along with the definite news of Hooker'soverthrow, came the news that Burnside had seized the Copperhead leader, Vallandigham, and had cast him into prison; that a hubbub had ensued;that, as the saying goes, the woods were burning in Ohio. 

Vallandigham's offense was a public speech of which no accurate reportsurvives. However, the fragments recorded by "plain clothes" menin Burnside's employ, when set in the perspective of Vallandigham'sthinking as displayed in Congress, make its tenor plain enough. It wasan out-and-out Copperhead harangue. If he was to be treated ashundreds of others had been, the case against him was plain. But theAdministration's policy toward agitators had gradually changed. Therewas not the same fear of them that had existed two years before. Now thetendency of the Administration was to ignore them. 

The Cabinet regretted what Burnside had done. Nevertheless, theMinisters felt that it would not do to repudiate him. Lincoln tookthat view. He wrote to Burnside deploring his action and sustaining hisauthority. (16) And then, as a sort of grim practical joke, he commutedVallandigham's sentence from imprisonment to banishment. The agitatorwas sent across the lines into the Confederacy. 

Burnside had effectually played the marplot. Very little chance now ofan understanding between Lincoln and either wing of the Democrats. Theopportunity to make capital out of the war powers was quite too good tobe lost! Vallandigham was nominated for governor by the Ohio Democrats. In all parts of the country Democratic committees resolved in furiousprotest against the dictator. And yet, on the whole, perhaps, theincident played into Lincoln's hands. At least, it silenced theJacobins. With the Democrats ringing the changes on the former doctrineof the supple politicians, how certain that their only course for themoment was to lie low. A time came, to be sure, when they thought itsafe to resume their own creed; but that was not yet. 

The hubbub over Vallandigham called forth two letters addressed toprotesting committees, that have their place among Lincoln's mostimportant statements of political science. His argument is based on theproposition which Browning developed a year before. The core of it is:

"You ask in substance whether I really claim that I may override allguaranteed rights of individuals on the plea of conserving the publicsafety, whenever I may choose to say the public safety requires it. This question, divested of the phraseology calculated to represent meas struggling for an arbitrary personal prerogative, is either simply aquestion who shall decide, or an affirmation that no one shall decide, what the public safety does require in cases of rebellion or invasion. 

"The Constitution contemplates the question as likely to occur fordecision, but it does not expressly declare who is to decide it. Bynecessary implication, when rebellion or invasion comes, the decisionis to be made from time to time; and I think the man whom, for the time, the people have, under the Constitution, made the Commander-in-chiefof their army and navy, is the man who holds the power and bears theresponsibility of making it. If he uses the power justly, the samepeople will probably justify him; if he abuses it, he is in their handsto be dealt with by all the modes they have reserved to themselves inthe Constitution. "(17)

Browning's argument over again-the President can be brought to book bya plebiscite, while Congress can not. But Lincoln did not rest, asBrowning did, on mere argument. The old-time jury lawyer revived. He wasdoing more than arguing a theorem of political science. He was on trialbefore the people, the great mass, which he understood so well. He mustreach their imaginations and touch their hearts. 

"Mr. Vallandigham avows his hostility to the war on the part of theUnion, and his arrest was made because he was laboring with some effect, to prevent the raising of troops, to encourage desertions from thearmy, and to leave the rebellion without an adequate military force tosup-press it. He was not arrested because he was damaging the politicalprospects of the Administration or the personal interests of theCommanding General, but because he was damaging the army, upon theexistence and vigor of which the life of the nation depends. He waswarring upon the military, and this gave the military constitutionaljurisdiction to lay hands upon him. 

"I understand the meeting whose resolutions I am considering, to be infavor of suppressing the rebellion by military force-by armies. Longexperience has shown that armies can not be maintained unless desertionshall be punished by the severe penalty of death. The case requires, andthe Law and the Constitution sanction this punishment. Must I shoot asimple-minded soldier boy who deserts while I must not touch a hair of awily agitator who induces him to desert?"(18)

Again, the ironical situation of the previous December; the wrathfulJacobins, the most dangerous because the most sincere enemies of thepresidential dictatorship, silent, trapped, biding their time. But thesituation had for them a distinct consolation. A hundred to one it hadkilled the hope of a Lincoln-Democratic alliance. 

However, the President would not give up the Democrats without one lastattempt to get round the Little Men. Again, he could think of no modeof negotiation except the one he had vainly attempted with Seymour. As earnest of his own good faith, he would once more renounce his ownprospect of a second term. But since Seymour had failed him, who wasthere that could serve his purpose? The popularity of McClellan amongthose Democrats who were not Copperheads had grown with his misfortunes. There had been a wide demand for his restoration after Fredericksburg, and again after Chancellorsville. Lincoln justified his reputation forpolitical insight by concluding that McClellan, among the Democrats, wasthe coming man. Again Weed was called in. Again he became an ambassadorof renunciation. Apparently he carried a message to the effect thatif McClellan would join forces with the Administration, Lincoln wouldsupport him for president a year later. But McClellan was too inveteratea partisan. Perhaps he thought that the future was his anyway. (19)

And so Lincoln's persistent attempt to win over the Democrats came toan end. The final sealing of their antagonism was effected at a greatDemocratic rally in New York on the Fourth of July. The day previous, a manifesto had been circulated through the city beginning, "Freemen, awake! In everything, and in most stupendous proportion, is thisAdministration abominable!"(20) Seymour reaffirmed his position ofout-and-out partisan hostility to the Administration. Vallandigham'scolleague, Pendleton of Ohio, formulated the Democratic doctrine: thatthe Constitution was being violated by the President's assumption ofwar powers. His cry was, "The Constitution as it is and the Union asit was. " He thundered that "Congress can not, and no one else shall, interfere with free speech. " The question was not whether we were tohave peace or war, but whether or not we were to have free government;"if it be necessary to violate the Constitution in order to carry on thewar, the war ought instantly to be stopped. "(21)

Lincoln's political program had ended apparently in a wreck. But Fortunehad not entirely deserted him. Hooker in a fit of irritation had offeredhis resignation. Lincoln had accepted it. Under a new commander, thearmy of the Potomac had moved against Lee. The orators at the Fourth ofJuly meeting had read in the papers that same day Lincoln's announcementof the victory at Gettysburg. (22) Almost coincident with thatannouncement was the surrender of Vicksburg. Difficult as was thepolitical problem ahead of him, the problem of finding some otherplan for unifying his support without participating in a VindictiveCoalition, Lincoln's mood was cheerful. On the seventh of July he wasserenaded. Serenades for the President were a feature of war-time inWashington, and Lincoln utilized the occasions to talk informally tothe country. His remarks on the seventh were not distinctive, exceptfor their tone, quietly, joyfully confident. His serene mood displayeditself a week later in a note to Grant which is oddly characteristic. Who else would have had the impulse to make this quaint littleconfession? But what, for a general who could read between the lines, could have been more delightful?(23)

"My dear General: I do not remember that you and I ever met personally. I write this now as a grateful acknowledgment for the almost inestimableservice you have done the country. I wish to say a word further. Whenyou first reached the vicinity of Vicksburg, I thought you should dowhat you finally did-march the troops across the neck, run the batterieswith the transports, and thus go below; and I never had any faithexcept a general hope that you knew better than I, that the Yazoo Passexpedition and the like could succeed. When you got below and took PortGibson, Grand Gulf and the vicinity, I thought you should go down theriver and join General Banks, and when you turned Northward, east of theBig Black, I feared it was a mistake. I now wish to make the personalacknowledgment that you were right and I was wrong. 

"Very truly, "A. LINCOLN. "

XXVII. THE TRIBUNE OF THE PEOPLE

Between March and December, 1863, Congress was not in session. Itsmembers were busy "taking the sense of the country" as they would havesaid: "putting their ears to the ground, " as other people would say. A startling tale the ground told them. It was nothing less than thatLincoln was the popular hero; that the people believed in him; that thepoliticians would do well to shape their ways accordingly. When theyreassembled, they were in a sullen, disappointed frame of mind. Theywould have liked to ignore the ground's mandate; but being politicians, they dared not. 

What an ironical turn of events! Lincoln's well-laid plan for acoalition of Moderates and Democrats had come to nothing. Logically, he ought now to be at the mercy of the Republican leaders. But instead, those leaders were beginning to be afraid of him, were perceiving thathe had power whereof they had not dreamed. Like Saul the son of Kish, who had set out to find his father's asses, he had found instead akingdom. How had he done it?

On a grand scale, it was the same sort of victory that had made hima power, so long before, on the little stage at Springfield. It waspersonal politics. His character had saved him. A multitude who sawnothing in the fine drawn constitutional issue of the war powers, who sensed the war in the most simple and elementary way, had formed, somehow, a compelling and stimulating idea of the President. They weresatisfied that "Old Abe, " or "Father Abraham, " was the man for them. When, after one of his numerous calls for fresh troops, their heartswent out to him, a new song sprang to life, a ringing, vigorous, and yeta touching song with the refrain, "We're coming, Father Abraham, threehundred thousand more. "

But how has he done it, asked the bewildered politicians, one ofanother. How had he created this personal confidence? They, Wade, Chandler, Stevens, Davis, could not do it; why could he?

Well, for one thing, he was a grand reality. They, relatively, wereshadows. The wind of destiny for him was the convictions arising out ofhis own soul; for them it was vox populi. The genuineness of Lincoln, his spiritual reality, had been perceived early by a class of menwhom your true politician seldom understands. The Intellectuals--"themliterary fellers, " in the famous words of an American Senator--werequick to see that the President was an extraordinary man; they were notlong in concluding that he was a genius. The subtlest intellect of thetime, Hawthorne, all of whose prejudices were enlisted against him, saidin the Atlantic of July, 1863: "He is evidently a man of keen faculties, and what is still more to the purpose, of powerful character. As to hisintegrity, the people have that intuition of it which is never deceivedhe has a flexible mind capable of much expansion. " And this whenTrumbull chafed in spirit because the President was too "weak" for hispart and Wade railed at him as a despot. As far back as 1860, Lowell, destined to become one of his ablest defenders, had said that Lincolnhad "proved both his ability and his integrity; he . . . Had experienceenough in public affairs to make him a statesman, and not enough to makehim a politician. " To be sure, there were some Intellectuals who couldnot see straight nor think clear. The world would have more confidencein the caliber of Bryant had he been able to rank himself in the Lincolnfollowing. But the greater part of the best intelligence of the Northcould have subscribed to Motley's words, "My respect for the characterof the President increases every day. "(1) The impression he made on menof original mind is shadowed in the words of Walt Whitman, who saw himoften in the streets of Washington: "None of the artists or pictureshave caught the subtle and indirect expression of this man's face. One of the great portrait painters of two or three centuries ago isneeded. "(2)

Lincoln's popular strength lay in a combination of the Intellectuals andthe plain people against the politicians. He reached the masses in threeways: through his general receptions which any one might attend; throughthe open-door policy of his office, to which all the world was permittedaccess; through his visits to the army. Many thousand men and women, inone or another of these ways, met the President face to face, often inthe high susceptibility of intense woe, and carried away an impressionwhich was immediately circulated among all their acquaintances. 

It would be impossible to exaggerate the grotesque miscellany of thestream of people flowing ever in and out of the President's open doors. Patriots eager to serve their country but who could find no place inthe conventional requirements of the War Office; sharpers who wanted toinveigle him into the traps of profiteers; widows with all their sons inservice, pleading for one to be exempted; other parents struggling withthe red tape that kept them from sons in hospitals; luxurious fraudsprating of their loyalty for the sake of property exemptions; inventorswith every imaginable strange device; politicians seeking to cajolehim; politicians bluntly threatening him; cashiered officers demandingjustice; men with grievances of a myriad sorts; nameless statesmen whosought to teach him his duty; clergymen in large numbers, generallywith the same purpose; deputations from churches, societies, politicalorganizations, commissions, trades unions, with every sort of messagefrom flattery to denunciation; and best of all, simple, confiding peoplewho wanted only to say, "We trust you--God bless you!"

There was a method in this madness of accessibility. Its deepestinspiration, to be sure, was kindness. In reply to a protest that hewould wear himself out listening to thousands of requests most of whichcould not be granted, he replied with one of those smiles in which therewas so much sadness, "They don't want much; they get but little, and Imust see them. "(3)

But there was another inspiration. His open doors enabled him to studythe American people, every phase of it, good and bad. "Men moving onlyin an official circle, " said he, "are apt to become merely official--notto say arbitrary--in their ideas, and are apter and apter with eachpassing day to forget that they only hold power in a representativecapacity. . . . Many of the matters brought to my notice are utterlyfrivolous, but others are of more or less importance, and all serveto renew in me a clearer and more vivid image of that great popularassemblage out of which I sprung, and to which at the end of two years Imust return. . . . I call these receptions my public opinion baths; forI have but little time to read the papers, and gather public opinionthat way; and though they may not be pleasant in all their particulars, the effect as a whole, is renovating and invigorating to my perceptionsof responsibility and duty. "(4)

He did not allow his patience to be abused with evil intent. He read hissuppliants swiftly. The profiteer, the shirk, the fraud of any sort, was instantly unmasked. "I'll have nothing to do with this business, " heburst out after listening to a gentlemanly profiteer; "nor with any manwho comes to me with such degrading propositions. What! Do you take thePresident of the United States to be a commission broker? You have cometo the wrong place, and for you and for every one who comes for the samepurpose, there is the door. "(5)

Lincoln enjoyed this indiscriminate mixing with people. It was his chiefescape from care. He saw no reason why his friends should Commiseratehim because of the endless handshaking. That was a small matter comparedwith the interest he took in the ever various stream of human types. Sometimes, indeed, he would lapse into a brown study in the midst ofa reception. Then he "would shake hands with thousands of people, seemingly unconscious of what he was doing, murmuring monotonoussalutations as they went by, his eye dim, his thoughts far withdrawn. . . . Suddenly, he would see some familiar face--his memory for faces wasvery good-and his eye would brighten and his whole form grow attentive;he would greet the visitor with a hearty grasp and a ringing wordand dismiss him with a cheery laugh that filled the Blue Room withinfectious good nature. "(6) Carpenter, the portrait painter, who for atime saw him daily, says that "his laugh stood by itself. The neigh of awild horse on his native prairie is not more undisguised and hearty. " Anintimate friend called it his "life preserver. "(7)

Lincoln's sense of humor delighted in any detail of an event whichsuggested comedy. His genial awkwardness amused himself quite as muchas it amused the world. At his third public reception he wore a pairof white kid gloves that were too small. An old friend approached. ThePresident shook hands so heartily that his glove burst with a poppingsound. Holding up his hand, Lincoln gazed at the ruined glove with adroll air while the arrested procession came to a standstill. "Well, myold friend, " said he, "this is a general bustification; you and I werenever intended to wear these things. If they were stronger they might doto keep out the cold, but they are a failure to shake hands with betweenold friends like us. Stand aside, Captain, and I'll see you shortly. "(8)

His complete freedom from pose, and from the sense of place, wasglimpsed by innumerable visitors. He would never allow a friend toaddress him by a title. "Call me Lincoln, " he would say; "Mr. Presidentis entirely too formal for us. "(9)

In a mere politician, all this might have been questioned. But Hawthornewas right as to the people's intuition of Lincoln's honesty. He hatedthe parade of eminence. Jefferson was his patron saint, and "simplicity"was part of his creed. Nothing could induce him to surround himself withpomp, or even--as his friends thought--with mere security. Rumors ofplots against his life were heard almost from the beginning. His friendsbegged long and hard before he consented to permit a cavalry guard atthe gates of the White House. Very soon he countermanded his consent. "It would never do, " said he, "for a president to have guards with drawnsabers at his door, as if he fancied he were, or were trying to be, orwere assuming to be, an emperor. "(10)

A military officer, alarmed for his safety, begged him to consider"the fact that any assassin or maniac seeking his life, could enterhis presence without the interference of a single armed man to holdhim back. The entrance doors, and all doors on the official side ofthe building, were open at all hours of the day and very late into theevening; and I have many times entered the mansion and walked up to therooms of the two private secretaries as late as nine or ten o'clock atnight, without Seeing, or being challenged by a single soul. " But theofficer pleaded in vain. Lincoln laughingly paraphrased Charles II, "Nowas to political assassination, do you think the Richmond people wouldlike to have Hannibal Hamlin here any more than myself? . . . As tothe crazy folks, Major, why I must only take my chances-the mostcrazy people at present, I fear, being some of my own too zealousadherents. "(11) With Carpenter, to whom he seems to have taken a liking, he would ramble the streets of Washington, late at night, "withoutescort or even the company of a servant. "(12) Though Halleck talked himinto accepting an escort when driving to and fro between Washington andhis summer residence at the Soldiers' Home, he would frequently give itthe slip and make the journey on horseback alone. In August of 1862 onone of these solitary rides, his life was attempted. It was about elevenat night; he was "jogging along at a slow gait immersed in deep thought"when some one fired at him with a rifle from near at hand. The ballmissed its aim and the President's horse, as Lincoln confided to hisfamiliars, "gave proof of decided dissatisfaction at the racket, and with one reckless bound, he unceremoniously separated me from myeight-dollar plug hat . . . At break-neck speed we reached a haven ofsafety. Meanwhile, I was left in doubt whether death was more desirablefrom being thrown from a runaway Federal horse, or as the tragic resultof a rifle ball fired by a disloyal bushwhacker in the middle of thenight"(13)

While carrying his life in his hands in this oddly reckless way, hebelied himself, as events were to show, by telling his friends that hefancied himself "a great coward physically, " that he felt sure he wouldmake a poor soldier. But he was sufficiently just to himself to add, "Moral cowardice is something which I think I never had. "(14)

Lincoln's humor found expression in other ways besides telling storiesand laughing at himself. He seized every opportunity to convert apetition into a joke, when this could be done without causing pain. Oneday, there entered a great man with a long list of favors which he hopedto have granted. Among these was "the case of Betsy Ann Dougherty, agood woman, " said the great man. "She lived in my county and did mywashing for a long time. Her husband went off and joined the Rebel armyand I wish you would give her a protection paper. " The pompous gravityof the way the case was presented struck Lincoln as very funny. Hisvisitor had no humor. He failed to see jokes while Lincoln quizzed himas to who and what was Betsy Ann. At length the President wrote a lineon a card and handed it to the great man. "Tell Betsy Ann to put astring in this card and hang it round her neck, " said he. "When theofficers (who may have doubted her affiliations) see this they will keeptheir hands off your Betsy Ann. " On the card was written, "Let Betsy AnnDougherty alone as long as she behaves herself. A. Lincoln. "(15)

This eagerness for a joke now and then gave offense. On one occasion, a noted Congressman called on the President shortly after a disaster. Lincoln began to tell a story. The Congressman jumped up. "Mr. President, I did not come here this morning to hear stories. It is tooserious a time. " Lincoln's face changed. "Ashley, " said he, "sit down! Irespect you as an earnest, sincere man. You can not be more anxious thanI have been constantly since the beginning of the war; and I say to younow, that were it not for this occasional vent, I should die. "(16) Againhe said, "When the Peninsula Campaign terminated suddenly at Harrison'sLanding, I was as near inconsolable as I could be and live. "(17)

Lincoln's imaginative power, the ineradicable artist in him, madeof things unseen true realities to his sensibility. Reports of armysuffering bowed his spirit. "This was especially' the case when thenoble victims were of his own acquaintance, or of the narrower circle ofhis familiar friends; and then he seemed for the moment possessed of asense of personal responsibility for their individual fate which was atonce most unreasonable and most pitiful. " On hearing that two sons of anold friend were desperately wounded and would probably die, he broke outwith: "Here, now, are these dear brave boys killed in this cursed war. My God! My God! It is too bad! They worked hard to earn money toeducate themselves and this is the end! I loved them as if they were myown. "(18) He was one of the few who have ever written a beautiful letterof condolence. Several of his letters attempting this all but impossibletask, come as near their mark as such things can. One has become aclassic:

"I have been shown, " he wrote to Mrs. Bixby, "in the files of the WarDepartment a statement of the Adjutant-General of Massachusetts thatyou are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the fieldof battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine whichshould attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I can not refrain from tendering to you the consolation that may befound in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that ourheavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leaveyou only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemnpride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon thealtar of freedom. "(19)

All these innumerable instances of his sympathy passed from mouth tomouth; became part of a floating propaganda that was organizing thepeople in his support. To these were added many anecdotes of his mercy. The American people had not learned that war is a rigorous thing. Discipline in the army was often hard to maintain. Impulsive young menwho tired of army life, or who quarreled with their officers, sometimeswalked away. There were many condemnations either for mutiny ordesertion. In the stream of suppliants pouring daily through thePresident's office, many were parents imploring mercy for rash sons. Asevery death-warrant had to be signed by the President, his generalswere frequently enraged by his refusal to carry out their decisions. "General, " said he to an angry commander who charged him with destroyingdiscipline, "there are too many weeping widows in the United Statesnow. -For God's sake don't ask me to add to the number; for I tell youplainly I won't do it. "(20)

Here again, kindness was blended with statecraft, mercy with shrewdness. The generals could not grasp the political side of war. Lincoln triedto make them see it. When they could not, he quietly in the last resortcounteracted their influence. When some of them talked of Europeanexperience, he shook his head; it would not do; they must work withthe tools they had; first of all with an untrained people, intenselysensitive to the value of human life, impulsive, quick to forgetoffenses, ultra-considerate of youth and its rashness. Whatever else thePresident did, he must not allow the country to think of the army as anogre devouring its sons because of technicalities. The General saw onlythe discipline, the morale, of the soldiers; the President saw thefar more difficult, the more roundabout matter, the discipline and themorale of the citizens. The one believed that he could compel; the otherwith his finger on the nation's pulse, knew that he had to persuade. 

However, this flowing army of the propaganda did not always engage himon the tragic note. One day a large fleshy man, of a stern buthomely countenance and a solemn and dignified carriage, immaculatedress--"swallow-tailed coat, ruffled shirt of faultless fabric, whitecravat and orange-colored gloves"--entered with the throng. Looking athim Lincoln was somewhat appalled. He expected some formidable demand. To his relief, the imposing stranger delivered a brief harangue on thePresident's policy, closing with, "I have watched you narrowly eversince your inauguration. . . . As one of your constituents, I now sayto you, do in future as you damn please, and I will support you. " "Sitdown, my friend, " said Lincoln, "sit down. I am delighted to see you. Lunch with us today. Yes, you must stay and lunch with us, my friend, for I have not seen enough of you yet. "(21) There were many of theseinformal ambassadors of the people assuring the President of popularsupport. And this florid gentleman was not the only one who lunched withthe President on first acquaintance. 

This casual way of inviting strangers to lunch with him was typical ofhis mode of life, which was exceedingly simple. He slept lightly androse early. In summer when he used the Soldiers' Home as a residence, hewas at his desk in the White House at eight o'clock in the morning. Hisbreakfast was an egg and a cup of coffee; luncheon was rarely morethan a glass of milk and a biscuit with a plate of fruit in season;his dinner at six o'clock, was always a light meal. Though he had notcontinued a total abstainer, as in the early days at Springfield, hevery seldom drank wine. He never used tobacco. So careless was he withregard to food that when Mrs. Lincoln was away from home, therewas little regularity in his meals. He described his habits on suchoccasions as "browsing around. "(22)

Even when Mrs. Lincoln was in command at the White House, he was notinvariably dutiful. An amusing instance was observed by some highofficials. The luncheon hour arrived in the midst of an importantconference. Presently, a servant appeared reminding Mr. Lincoln of thehour, but he took no notice. Another summons, and again no notice. After a short interval, the door of the office flew open and the titular"First Lady" flounced into the room, a ruffled, angry little figure, her eyes flashing. With deliberate quiet, as if in a dream, Lincoln roseslowly, took her calmly, firmly by the shoulders, lifted her, carriedher through the doorway, set her down, closed the door, and went on withthe conference as if unconscious of an interruption. (23) Mrs. Lincolndid not return. The remainder of the incident is unknown. 

The burden of many anecdotes that were included in the propaganda washis kindness to children. It began with his own. His little rascal"Tad, " after Willie's death, was the apple of his eye. The boy romped inand out of his office. Many a time he was perched on his father's kneewhile great affairs of state were under discussion. (24) Lincoln couldpersuade any child from the arms of its mother, nurse, or play fellow, there being a "peculiar fascination in his voice and manner which thelittle one could not resist. "(25)

All impressionable, imaginative young people, brought into closeassociation with him, appear to have felt his spell. His privatesecretaries were his sworn henchmen. Hay's diary rings withadmiration--the keen, discriminating, significant admiration of your realobserver. Hay refers to him by pet name-"The Ancient, " "The Old Man, ""The Tycoon. " Lincoln's entire relation with these gifted youngstersmay be typified by one of Hay's quaintest anecdotes. Lincoln had gone tobed, as so often he did, with a book. "A little after midnight as I waswriting, the President came into the office laughing, with a volume ofHood's Works in his hand, to show Nicolay and me the little caricature, 'An Unfortunate Being'; seemingly utterly unconscious that he, with hisshort shirt hanging about his long legs, and setting out behind likethe tail feathers of an enormous ostrich, was infinitely funnier thananything in the book he was laughing at. What a man it is! occupied allday with matters of vast moment, deeply anxious about the fate of thegreatest army of the world, with his own plans and future hanging on theevents of the passing hour, he yet has such a wealth of simple bonhomieand good fellowship that he gets out of bed and perambulates the housein his shirt to find us that we may share with him the fun of poorHood's queer little conceits. "(26)

In midsummer, 1863, "The Tycoon is in fine whack. I have rarely seenhim more serene and busy. He is managing this war, the draft, foreignrelations, and planning a reconstruction of the Union, all at once. Inever knew with what a tyrannous authority he rules the Cabinet, untilnow. The most important things he decides and there is no cavil. I amgrowing more convinced that the good of the country demands that heshould be kept where he is till this thing is over. There is no man inthe country so wise, so gentle, and so firm. "(27)

And again, "You may talk as you please of the Abolition Cabal directingaffairs from Washington; some well-meaning newspapers advise thePresident to keep his fingers out of the military pie, and all that sortof thing. The truth is, if he did, the pie would be a sorry mess. Theold man sits here and wields, like a backwoods Jupiter, the bolts ofwar and the machinery of government with a hand especially steady andequally firm. . I do not know whether the nation is worthy of him foranother term. I know the people want him. There is no mistaking thatfact. But the politicians are strong yet, and he is not their 'kind of acat. ' I hope God won't see fit to scourge us for our sins by any of thetwo or three most prominent candidates on the ground. "(28) This was theconclusion growing everywhere among the bulk of the people. There is onemore cause of it to be reckoned with. Lincoln had not ceased to be theliterary statesman. In fact, he was that more effectively than ever. Hisgenius for fable-making took a new turn. Many a visitor who came to findfault, went home to disseminate the apt fable with which the Presidenthad silenced his objections and captured his agreement. His skill innarration also served him well. Carpenter repeats a story about AndrewJohnson and his crude but stern religion which in mere print is notremarkable. "I have elsewhere insinuated, " comments Carpenter, "that Mr. Lincoln was capable of much dramatic power. . . . It was shown in hiskeen appreciation of Shakespeare, and unrivaled faculty of Storytelling. The incident just related, for example, was given with a thrillingeffect which mentally placed Johnson, for the time being, alongsideLuther and Cromwell. Profanity or irreverence was lost sight of in afervid utterance of a highly wrought and great-souled determination, united with a rare exhibition of pathos and self-abnegation. "(29)

In formal literature, he had done great things upon a far higher levelthan any of his writings previous to that sudden change in his stylein 1860. For one, there was the Fast Day Proclamation. There was also adescription of his country, of the heritage of the nation, in the thirdmessage. Its aim was to give imaginative reality to the national idea;just as the second message had aimed to give argumentative reality. 

"There is no line, straight or crooked, suitable for a national boundaryupon which to divide. Trace through from east to west, upon the linebetween the free and the slave Country and we shall find a littlemore than one-third of its length are rivers, easy to be crossed, andpopulated, or soon to be populated, thickly upon both sides; whilenearly all its remaining length are merely surveyors' lines, overwhich people may walk back and forth without any consciousness of theirpresence. No part of this line can be made any more difficult to pass bywriting it down on paper or parchment as a national boundary. 

"But there is another difficulty. The great interior region, boundedeast by the Alleghanies, north by the British dominions, west by theRocky Mountains, and south by the line along which the culture ofcorn and cotton meets, and which includes part of Virginia, partof Tennessee, all of Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Iowa, Minnesota, and the Territories ofDakota, Nebraska, and part of Colorado, already has above ten millionsof people, and will have fifty millions within fifty years, if notprevented by any political folly or mistake. It contains more thanone-third of the Country owned by the United States--certainly more thanone million square miles. Once half as populous as Massachusetts alreadyis, it would have more than seventy-five millions of people. A glance atthe map shows that, territorially speaking, it is the great body ofthe republic. The other parts are but marginal borders to it, themagnificent region sloping west from the Rocky Mountains to the Pacificbeing the deepest and also the richest in undeveloped resources. In theproduction of provisions, grains, grasses, and all which proceed fromthem, this great interior region is naturally one of the most importantin the world. Ascertain from the statistics the small proportion of theregion which has, as yet, been brought into cultivation, and also thelarge and rapidly increasing amount of its products and we shall beoverwhelmed with the magnitude of the prospect presented; and yet, this region has no seacoast, touches no ocean anywhere. As part of onenation, its people now find, and may forever find, their way to Europeby New York, to South America and Africa by New Orleans, and to Asiaby San Francisco. But separate our common country into two nations asdesigned by the present rebellion, and every man of this great interiorregion is thereby cut off from some one or more of these outlets-not, perhaps, by a physical barrier, but by embarrassing and onerous traderegulations. 

"And this is true wherever a dividing or boundary line may be fixed. Place it between the now free and slave country, or place it south ofKentucky or north of Ohio, and still the truth remains that none southof it can trade to any port or place north of it, and none north of itcan trade to any port or place south of it, except upon terms dictatedby a government foreign to them. These outlets east, west, and south, are indispensable to the well-being of the people inhabiting and toinhabit, this vast interior region. Which of the three may be the bestis no proper question. All are better than either; and all of rightbelong to that people and to their Successors forever. True tothemselves, they will not ask where a line of separation shall be, butwill vow rather that there shall be no such line. Nor are the marginalregions less interested in these communications to and through them tothe great outside world. They, too, and each of them, must have accessto this Egypt of the West without paying toll at the crossing of anynational boundary. 

"Our national strife springs not from our permanent part, not from theland we inhabit, not from our national homestead. There is no possiblesevering of this but would multiply, and not mitigate, evils amongus. In all its adaptations and aptitudes it demands union and abhorsseparation. In fact, it would ere long, force reunion, however much ofblood and treasure the separation might have cost. "(30)

A third time he made a great literary stroke, gave utterance, in yetanother form, to his faith that the national idea was the one constantissue for which he had asked his countrymen, and would continue to askthem, to die. It was at Gettysburg, November 19, 1863, in consecrationof a military burying-ground, that he delivered, perhaps, his greatestutterance:

"But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate--we can not consecrate--wecan not hallow--this ground. The brave men, living and dead, whostruggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add ordetract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they whofought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to behere dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from thesehonored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which theygave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolvethat these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation under God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, for the people, by the people, shall not perish from the earth. "(31)

XXVIII. APPARENT ASCENDENCY

Toward the end of 1863, Lowell prepared an essay on "The President'sPolicy. " It might almost be regarded as a manifesto of theIntellectuals. That there was now a prospect of winning the war"was mainly due to the good sense, the good humor, the sagacity, thelarge-mindedness, and the unselfish honesty of the unknown man whoma blind fortune, as it seemed, had lifted from the crowd to the mostdangerous and difficult eminence of modern times. " When the essayappeared in print, Lincoln was greatly pleased. He wrote to the editorsof the North American Review, "I am not the most impartial judge; yetwith due allowance for this, I venture to hope that the article entitled'The President's Policy' will be of value to the country. I fear Iam not quite worthy of all which is therein so kindly said of mepersonally. "(1)

This very able defense of his previous course appeared as he wasannouncing to the country his final course. He was now satisfied thatwinning the war was but a question of time. What would come afterwar was now in his mind the overshadowing matter. He knew thatthe vindictive temper had lost nothing of its violence. Chandler'ssavagery--his belief that the Southerners had forfeited the right tolife, liberty and the pursuit of happiness--was still the Vindictivecreed. 'Vae victi'! When war ended, they meant to set their feet on theneck of the vanquished foe. Furthermore, Lincoln was not deceived asto why they were lying low at this particular minute. Ears had beenflattened to the ground and they were heeding what the ground had said. The President was too popular for them to risk attacking him without anobvious issue. Their former issue had been securely appropriated bythe Democrats. Where could they find another? With consummate boldnessLincoln presented them an issue. It was reconstruction. When Congressmet, he communicated the text of a "Proclamation of Amnesty andReconstruction. "(2) This great document on which all his concludingpolicy was based, offered "a full pardon" with "restoration of allrights of property, except as to slaves, or in property cases, whererights of third persons shall have intervened" upon subscribing toan oath of allegiance which required only a full acceptance of theauthority of the United States. This amnesty was to be extended to allpersons except a few groups, such as officers above the rank of coloneland former officials of the United States. The Proclamation alsoprovided that whenever, in any Seceded State, the new oath should betaken by ten per cent. Of all those who were qualified to vote under thelaws of 1860, these ten per cent. Should be empowered to set up a newState government. 

From the Vindictive point of view, here was a startling announcement. Lincoln had declared for a degree of magnanimity that was as a red ragto a bull. He had also carried to its ultimate his assumption of warpowers. No request was made for congressional cooperation. The messagewhich the Proclamation accompanied was informative only. 

By this time, the Vindictive Coalition of 1861 was gradually comingtogether again. Or, more truly, perhaps, various of its elements werefusing into a sort of descendant of the old coalition. The leadersof the new Vindictive group were much the same as the leaders of theearlier group. There was one conspicuous addition. During the next sixmonths, Henry Winter Davis held for a time the questionable distinctionof being Lincoln's most inveterate enemy. He was a member of the House. In the House many young and headstrong politicians rallied about him. The Democrats at times craftily followed his lead. Despite the older andmore astute Vindictives of the Senate, Chandler, Wade and the rest whoknew that their time had not come, Davis, with his ardent followers, took up the President's challenge. Davis brought in a bill designed tocomplete the reorganization of the old Vindictive Coalition. It appealedto the enemies of presidential prerogative, to all those who wantedthe road to reconstruction made as hard as possible, and to theAbolitionists. This bill, in so many words, transferred the whole matterof reconstruction from the President to Congress; it required a majority(instead of one-tenth) of all the male citizens of a Seceded State as thebasis of a new government; it exacted of this majority a pledge neverto pay any State debt contracted during the Confederacy, and also theperpetual prohibition of slavery in their State constitution. 

Davis got his bill through the House, but his allies in the Senate laidit aside. They understood the country too well not to see that theymust wait for something to happen. If the President made any mistake, if anything went wrong with the army--they remembered the spring of 1862, McClellan's failure, and how Chandler followed it up. And at this momentno man was chafing more angrily because of what the ground was saying, no man was watching the President more keenly, than Chandler. Historyis said to repeat itself, and all things are supposed to come to him whowaits. While Davis's bill was before the House, Lincoln accepted battlewith the Vindictives in a way that was entirely unostentatious, but thatburned his bridges. He pressed forward the organization of a new Stategovernment in Louisiana under Federal auspices. He wrote to MichaelHahn, the newly chosen governor of this somewhat fictitious State: "Icongratulate you on having fixed your name in history as the first FreeState governor of Louisiana. "(3)

Meanwhile, the hotheads of the House again followed Davis's lead andflung defiance in Lincoln's face. Napoleon, who had all along coquettedalarmingly with the Confederates, had also pushed ahead with hisinsolent conquest of Mexico. Lincoln and Seward, determined to havebut one war on their hands at a time, had skilfully evaded committingthemselves. The United States had neither protested against the actionof Napoleon, nor in any way admitted its propriety. Other men besidesthe Vindictives were biding their time. But here the hotheads thoughtthey saw an opportunity. Davis brought in a resolution which amounted toa censure of the Administration for not demanding the retirement ofthe French from Mexico. This was one of those times when theDemocrats played politics and followed Davis. The motion was carriedunanimously. (4) It was so much of a sensation that the 'AmericanMinister at Paris, calling on the Imperial Minister of Foreign Affairs, was met by the curt question, "Do you bring peace or war?"

But it was not in the power of the House to draw Lincoln's fire untilhe chose to be drawn. He ignored its action. The Imperial Government wasinformed that the acts of the House of Representatives were not theacts of the President, and that in relation to France, if the Presidentshould change his policy, the imperial Government would be duly informed. (5)

It was Lincoln's fate to see his policy once again at the mercy of hisCommanding General. That was his situation in the spring of 1862 wheneverything hung on McClellan who failed him; again in the autumn ofthe year when McClellan so narrowly saved him. The spring of 1864paralleled, in this respect, that other spring two years earlier. To besure, Lincoln's position was now much stronger; he had a great personalfollowing on which he relied. But just how strong it was he did notknow. He was taking a great risk forcing a policy high-handed indefiance of Congress, where all his bitterest enemies were entrenched, glowering. If his General failed him now--

The man on whom this huge responsibility rested was Grant. Lincoln hadsummoned him from the West and placed him at the head of all thearmies of the Republic. As to Halleck who had long since proved himselfperfectly useless, he was allowed to lapse into obscurity. 

Grant has preserved in his Memoirs his first confidential talk withLincoln: "He told me he did not want to know what I proposed to do. Buthe submitted a plan of campaign of his own that he wanted me to hear andthen do as I pleased about. He brought out a map of Virginia on whichhe had evidently marked every position occupied by the Federal andConfederate armies up to that time. He pointed out on the map twostreams which empty into the Potomac, and suggested that an army mightbe moved on boats and landed between the mouths of those streams. Wewould then have the Potomac to bring our supplies, and the tributarieswould protect our flanks while we moved out. I listened respectfully, but did not suggest that the same streams would protect Lee's flankswhile he was shutting us up. "(6)

Grant set out for the front in Virginia. Lincoln's parting words werethis note: "Not expecting to see you again before the spring campaignopens, I wish to express in this way my entire satisfaction withwhat you have done up to this time, so far as I understand it. Theparticulars of your plans I neither know nor seek to know. You arevigilant and self-reliant; and, pleased with this, I wish not to obtrudeany constraints or restraints upon you. While I am very anxious that anygreat disaster or capture of our men in great numbers shall be avoided, I know these points are less likely to escape your attention than theywould be mine. If there is anything wanting which is within my powerto give, do not fail to let me know it. And now, with a brave army and ajust cause, may God sustain you. "(7)

XXIX. CATASTROPHE

If the politicians needed a definite warning, in addition to what theground was saying, it was given by an incident that centered upon Chase. A few bold men whose sense of the crowd was not so acute as it mighthave been, attempted to work up a Chase boom. At the instance of SenatorPomeroy, a secret paper known to-day as the Pomeroy Circular, wasstarted on its travels. The Circular aimed to make Chase the Vindictivecandidate. Like all the other anti-Lincoln moves of the early partof 1864, it was premature. The shrewd old Senators who were silentlymarshaling the Vindictive forces, let it alone. 

Chase's ambition was fully understood at the White House. During theprevious year, his irritable self-consciousness had led to quarrelswith the President, generally over patronage, and more than once he hadoffered his resignation. On one occasion, Lincoln went to his house andbegged him to reconsider. Alone among the Cabinet, Chase had failedto take the measure of Lincoln and still considered him a second-rateperson, much his inferior. He rated very high the services to hiscountry of the Secretary of the Treasury whom he considered the logicalsuccessor to the Presidency. 

Lincoln refused to see what Chase was after. "I have determined, " hetold Hay, "to shut my eyes as far as possible to everything of the sort. Mr. Chase makes a good secretary and I shall keep him where he is. "(1)In lighter vein, he said that Chase's presidential ambition was like a"chin fly" pestering a horse; it led to his putting all the energy hehad into his work. (2)

When a copy of the Circular found its way to the White House, Lincolnrefused to read it. (3) Soon afterward it fell into the hands of anunsympathetic or indiscreet editor and was printed. There was a hubbub. Chase offered to resign. Lincoln wrote to him in reply:

"My knowledge of Mr. Pomeroy's letter having been made public came tome only the day you wrote but I had, in Spite of myself, known of itsexistence several days before. I have not yet read it, and I thinkI shall not. I was not shocked or surprised by the appearance of theletter because I had had knowledge of Mr. Pomeroy's committee, and ofsecret issues which I supposed came from it, and of secret agents whoI supposed were sent out by it, for several weeks. I have known just aslittle of these things as my friends have allowed me to know. They bringthe documents to me, but I do not read them; they tell me what theythink fit to tell me, but I do not inquire for more. I fully concurwith you that neither of us can be justly held responsible for what ourrespective friends may do without our instigation or countenance; and Iassure you, as you have assured me, that no assault has been made uponyou by my instigation or with my countenance. Whether you shall remainat the head of the Treasury Department is a question which I will notallow myself to consider from any standpoint other than my judgment ofthe public service, and in that view, I do not perceive occasion fora change. "(4) But this was not the end of the incident. The countrypromptly repudiated Chase. His own state led the way. A caucus ofUnion members of the Ohio Legislature resolved that the people andthe soldiers of Ohio demanded the reelection of Lincoln. In a host ofsimilar resolutions, Legislative caucuses, political conventions, dubs, societies, prominent individuals not in the political machine, allringingly declared for Lincoln, the one proper candidate of the "Unionparty"-as the movement was labeled in a last and relatively successfulattempt to break party lines. 

As the date of the "Union Convention" approached, Lincoln put asidean opportunity to gratify the Vindictives. Following the EmancipationProclamation, the recruiting offices had been opened to negroes. Thereupon the Confederate government threatened to treat black soldiersas brigands, and to refuse to their white officers the protection ofthe laws of war. A cry went up in the North for reprisal. It was notthe first time the cry had been raised. In 1862 Lincoln's spokesman inCongress, Browning, had withstood a proposal for the trial of GeneralBuckner by the civil authorities of Kentucky. Browning opposed such acourse on the ground that it would lead to a policy of retaliation, andmake of the war a gratification of revenge. (5) The Confederatethreat gave a new turn to the discussion. Frederick Douglas, the mostinfluential negro of the time, obtained an audience with Lincoln andbegged for reprisals. Lincoln would not consent. So effective was hisargument that even the ardent negro, convinced that his race was aboutto suffer persecution, was satisfied. 

"I shall never forget, " Douglas wrote, "the benignant expression ofhis face, the tearful look of his eye, the quiver in his voice, when hedeprecated a resort to retaliatory measures. 'Once begun, ' said he, 'Ido not know where such a measure would stop. ' He said he could not takemen out and kill them in cold blood for what was done by others. If hecould get hold of the persons who were guilty of killing the coloredprisoners in cold blood, the case would be different, but he could notkill the innocent for the guilty. "(6)

In April, 1864, the North was swept by a wild rumor of deliberatemassacre of prisoners at Fort Pillow. Here was an opportunity forLincoln to ingratiate himself with the Vindictives. The President wasto make a speech at a fair held in Baltimore, for the benefit of theSanitary Commission. The audience was keen to hear him denounce thereputed massacre, and eager to applaud a promise of reprisal. Instead, he deprecated hasty judgment; insisting that the rumor had not beenverified; that nothing should be done on the strength of mere report. 

"It is a mistake to suppose the government is indifferent in thismatter, or is not doing the best it can in regard to it. We do notto-day know that a colored soldier or white officer commanding coloredsoldiers has been massacred by the Rebels when made a prisoner. We fearit--believe it, I may say-but we do not know it To take the life of oneof their prisoners on the assumption that they murder ours, when it isshort of certainty that they do murder ours, might be too serious, toocruel a mistake. "(7)

What a tame, spiritless position in the eyes of the Vindictives! Adifferent opportunity to lay hold of public opinion he made the most of. And yet, here also, he spoke in that carefully guarded way, making surehe was not understood to say more than he meant, which most politicianswould have pronounced over-scrupulous. A deputation of working men fromNew York were received at the White House. "The honorary membershipin your association, " said he, "as generously tendered, is gratefullyaccepted. . . . You comprehend, as your address shows, that the existingrebellion means more, and tends to more, than the perpetuation ofAfrican slavery-that it is, in fact, a war upon the rights of allworking people. "

After reviewing his own argument on this subject in the second message, he concluded:

"The views then expressed now remain unchanged, nor have I much to add. None are so deeply interested to resist the present rebellion as theworking people. Let them beware of prejudices, working division andhostility among themselves. The most notable feature of a disturbancein your city last summer was the hanging of some working people byother working people. It should never be so. The strongest bond ofhuman sympathy outside of the family relation, should be one uniting allworking people, of all nations, and tongues, and kindreds. Nor shouldthis lead to a war upon property, or the owners of property. Propertyis the fruit of labor; property is desirable; is a positive good in theworld. That some should be rich shows that others may become rich, andhence is just encouragement to industry and enterprise. Let not him whois houseless pull down the house of another, but let him work diligentlyand build one for himself, thus by example assuming that his own shallbe safe from violence when built. "(8)

Lincoln was never more anxious than in this fateful spring when so manyissues were hanging in the balance. Nevertheless, in all his relationswith the world, his firm serenity was not broken. Though subject todepression so deep that his associates could not penetrate it, he keptit sternly to himself. (9) He showed the world a lighter, more gracefulaspect than ever before. 'A precious record of his later mood is theaccount of him set down by Frank B. Carpenter, the portrait painter, aman of note in his day, who was an inmate of the White House during thefirst half of 1864. Carpenter was painting a picture of the "Signing ofthe Emancipation Proclamation. " He saw Lincoln informally at all sortsof odd times, under all sorts of conditions. "All familiar with him, "says Carpenter, "will remember the weary air which became habitualduring his last years. This was more of the mind than of the body, andno rest and recreation which he allowed himself could relieve it. Ashe sometimes expressed it, 'no remedy seemed ever to reach the tiredspot. "(10)

A great shadow was darkening over him. He was more than ever convincedthat he had not long to live. None the less, his poise became moreconspicuous, his command over himself and others more distinguished, as the months raced past. In truth he had worked through a slow butprofound transformation. The Lincoln of 1864 was so far removed from theLincoln of Pigeon Creek-but logically, naturally removed, through theabsorption of the outer man by the inner--that inevitably one thinks ofShakespeare's change "into something rich and strange. "

Along with the weakness, the contradictions of his earlier self, therehad also fallen away from him the mere grossness that had belonged tohim as a peasant. Carpenter is unconditional that in six months of closeintimacy, seeing him in company with all sorts of people, he never heardfrom Lincoln an offensive story. He quotes Seward and Lincoln's familyphysician to the same effect. (11)

The painter, like many others, was impressed by the tragic cast of hisexpression, despite the surface mirth. 

"His complexion, at this time, was inclined to sallowness his eyes werebluish gray in color--always in deep shadow, however, from the upperlids which were unusually heavy (reminding me in this respect ofStuart's portrait of Washington) and the expression was remarkablypensive and tender, often inexpressibly sad, as if the reservoir oftears lay very near the surface--a fact proved not only by the responsewhich accounts of suffering and sorrow invariably drew forth, butby circumstances which would ordinarily affect few men in hisposition. "(12) As a result of the great strain to which he was subjected"his demeanor and disposition changed-so gradually that it would beimpossible to say when the change began. . . . He continued always thesame kindly, genial, and cordial spirit he had been at first; but theboisterous laughter became less frequent, year by year; the eye grewveiled by constant meditation on momentous subjects; the air of reserveand detachment from his surroundings increased. He aged with greatrapidity. "(13)

Every Saturday afternoon the Marine Band gave an open-air concert inthe grounds of the White House. One afternoon Lincoln appeared upon theportico. There was instant applause and cries for a speech. "Bowing histhanks and excusing himself, he stepped back into the retirement of thecircular parlor, remarking (to Carpenter) with a disappointed air, ashe reclined on a sofa, 'I wish they would let me sit there quietlyand enjoy the music. ' His kindness to others was unfailing. It wasthis harassed statesman who came into the studio one day and found(Carpenter's) little boy of two summers playing on the floor. A memberof the Cabinet was with him; but laying aside all restraint, he tookthe little fellow in his arms and they were soon on the best of terms. "While his younger son "Tad" was with his mother on a journey, Lincolntelegraphed: "Tell Tad, father and the goats are well, especiallythe goats. "(14) He found time one bright morning in May to review theSunday-school children of Washington who filed past "cheering as iftheir very lives depended upon it, " while Lincoln stood at a window"enjoying the scene. . . Making pleasant remarks about a face that now andthen struck him. "(15) Carpenter told him that no other president exceptWashington had placed himself so securely in the hearts of the people. "Homely, honest, ungainly Lincoln, " said Asa Gray, in a letter toDarwin, "is the representative man of the country. "

However, two groups of men in his own party were sullenly opposed tohim--the relentless Vindictives and certain irresponsible free lanceswho named themselves the "Radical Democracy. " In the latter group, Fremont was the hero; Wendell Phillips, the greatest advocate. Theywere extremists in all things; many of them Agnostics. Furious againstLincoln, but unwilling to go along with the waiting policy of theVindictives, these visionaries held a convention at Cleveland; voteddown a resolution that recognized God as an ally; and nominated Fremontfor the Presidency. A witty comment on the movement--one that greatlyamused Lincoln--was the citation of a verse in first Samuel: "And everyone that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every onethat was discontented, gathered themselves unto him; and he became acaptain over them; and there were with him about four hundred men. "

If anything was needed to keep the dissatisfied Senators in the partyranks, it was this rash "bolt. " Though Fremont had been their man inthe past, he had thrown the fat in the fire by setting up an independentticket. Silently, the wise opportunists of the Senate and all theirhenchmen, stood aside at the "Union convention"--which they called theRepublican Convention--June seventh, and took their medicine. 

There was no doubt of the tempest of enthusiasm among the majority ofthe delegates. It was a Lincoln ovation. 

In responding the next day to a committee of congratulation, Lincolnsaid: "I am not insensible at all to the personal compliment there isin this, and yet I do not allow myself to believe that any but a smallportion of it is to be appropriated as a personal compliment. . . . I donot allow myself to suppose that either the Convention or the (NationalUnion) League have concluded to decide that I am the greatest or bestman in America, but rather they have concluded that it is best not toswap horses while crossing the river, and have further concluded that Iam not so poor a horse that they might not make a botch of it trying toswap. "(16)

Carpenter records another sort of congratulation a few days laterthat brought out the graceful side of this man whom most people stillsupposed to be hopelessly awkward. It happened on a Saturday. Carpenterhad invited friends to sit in his painting room and oversee the crowdwhile listening to the music. "Towards the close of the concert, thedoor suddenly opened, and the President came in, as he was in the habitof doing, alone. Mr. And Mrs. Cropsey had been presented to him in thecourse of the morning; and as he came forward, half hesitatingly, Mrs. C. , who held a bunch of beautiful flowers in her hand, tripped forwardplayfully, and said: 'Allow me, Mr. President, to present you with abouquet!' The situation was momentarily embarrassing; and I was puzzledto know how 'His Excellency' would get out of it. With no appearance ofdiscomposure, he stooped down, took the flowers, and, looking fromthem into the sparkling eyes and radiant face of the lady, said, with agallantry I was unprepared for 'Really, madam, if you give them to me, and they are mine, I think I can not possibly make so good use of themas to present them to you, in return!'"(17)

In gaining the nomination, Lincoln had not, as yet, attained securityfor his plans. Grant was still to be reckoned with. By a curious irony, the significance of his struggle with Lee during May, his steady advanceby the left flank, had been misapprehended in the North. Looking at themap, the country saw that he was pushing southward, and again southward, on Virginia soil. McClellan, Pope, Burnside, Hooker, with them it hadbeen:

 "He who fights and runs away May live to fight another day. "

But Grant kept on. He struck Lee in the furious battle of theWilderness, and moved to the left, farther south. "Victory!" cried theNorthern newspapers, "Lee isn't able to stop him. " The same delusionwas repeated after Spottsylvania where the soldiers, knowing more of warthan did the newspapers, pinned to their coats slips of paper bearingtheir names; identification of the bodies might be difficult. Thepopular mistake continued throughout that dreadful campaign. TheConvention was still under the delusion of victory. 

Lincoln also appears to have stood firm until the last minute in thecommon error. But the report of Grant's losses, more than the whole ofLee's army, filled him with horror. During these days, Carpenter hadcomplete freedom of the President's office and "intently studied everyline and shade of expression in that furrowed face. In repose, it wasthe saddest face I ever knew. There were days when I could scarcelylook into it without crying. During the first week of the battles of theWilderness he scarcely slept at all. Passing through the main hall ofthe domestic apartment on one of these days, I met him, clad in a long, morning wrapper, pacing back and forth a narrow passage leading to oneof the windows, his hands behind him, great black rings under his eyes, his head bent forward upon his breast-altogether such a picture of theeffects of sorrow, care, and anxiety as would have melted the heartsof the worst of his adversaries, who so mistakenly applied to him theepithets of tyrant and usurper. "(18)

Despite these sufferings, Lincoln had not the slightest thought ofgiving way. Not in him any likeness to the sentimentalists, Greeley andall his crew, who were exultant martyrs when things were going right, and shrieking pacifists the moment anything went wrong. In one of thedarkest moments of the year, he made a brief address at a Sanitary Fairin Philadelphia. 

"Speaking of the present campaign, " said he, "General Grant is reportedto have said, 'I am going to fight it out on this line if it takes allsummer. ' This war has taken three years; it was begun or accepted uponthe line of restoring the national authority over the whole nationaldomain, and for the American people, as far as my knowledge enablesme to speak, I say we are going through on this line if it takes threeyears more. "(19) He made no attempt to affect Grant's course. He had puthim in supreme command and would leave everything to his judgment. Andthen came the colossal blunder at Cold Harbor. Grant stood again whereMcClellan had stood two years before. He stood there defeated. He couldthink of nothing to do but just what McClellan had wanted to do--abandonthe immediate enterprise, make a great detour to the Southwest, andstart a new campaign on a different plan. Two years with all theirterrible disasters, and this was all that had come of it! Practically nogain, and a death-roll that staggered the nation. A wail went over theNorth. After all, was the war hopeless? Was Lee invincible? Was the bestof the Northern manhood perishing to no result?

Greeley, perhaps the most hysterical man of genius America has produced, made his paper the organ of the wail. He wrote frantic appeals to thegovernment to cease fighting, do what could be done by negotiation, andif nothing could be done--at least, stop "these rivers of human blood. "

The Vindictives saw their opportunity. They would capitalize the wail. The President should be dealt with yet. 

XXX. THE PRESIDENT VERSUS THE VINDICTIVES

Now that the Vindictives had made up their minds to fight, an occasionwas at their hands. Virtually, they declared war on the Presidentby refusing to recognize a State government which he had set up inArkansas. Congress would not admit Senators or Representatives from theReconstructed State. But on this issue, Lincoln was as resolute to fightto a finish as were any of his detractors. He wrote to General Steele, commanding in Arkansas:

"I understand that Congress declines to admit to seats the persons sentas Senators and Representatives from Arkansas. These persons apprehendthat, in consequence, you may not support the new State government thereas you otherwise would. My wish is that you give that government andthe people there the same support and protection that you would if themembers had been admitted, because in no event, nor in any view of thecase, can this do harm, while it will be the best you can do towardsuppressing the rebellion. "(1)

The same day Chase resigned. The reason he assigned was, again, thesquabble over patronage. He had insisted on an appointment of which thePresident disapproved. Exactly what moved him may be questioned. Chasenever gave his complete confidence, not even to his diary. Whetherhe thought that the Vindictives would now take him up as a rival ofLincoln, continues doubtful. Many men were staggered by his action. Crittenden, the Registrar of the Treasury, was thrown into a panic. "Mr. President, " said he, "this is worse than another Bull Run. Pray let mego to Secretary Chase and see if I can not induce him to withdraw hisresignation. Its acceptance now might cause a financial panic. "But Lincoln was in a fighting mood. "Chase thinks he has becomeindispensable to the country, " he told Chittenden. "He also thinks heought to be President; he has no doubt whatever about that. He is anable financier, a great statesman, and at the bottom a patriot . . He isnever perfectly happy unless he is thoroughly miserable and able to makeeverybody else just as uncomfortable as he is himself. . He is eitherdetermined to annoy me or that I shall pat him on the shoulder and coaxhim to stay. I don't think I ought to do it. I will take him at hisword. "(2)

He accepted the resignation in a note that was almost curt: "Of all Ihave said in commendation of your ability and fidelity, I have nothingto unsay; and yet you and I have reached a point of mutual embarrassmentin our official relations which it seems can not be overcome or longersustained consistently with the public service. "(3)

The selection of a successor to Chase was no easy matter. TheVindictives were the leaders of the moment. What if they persuaded theSenate not to confirm Lincoln's choice of Secretary. "I never saw thePresident, " says Carpenter, "under so much excitement as on the dayfollowing this event" On the night of July first, Lincoln lay awakedebating with himself the merits of various candidates. At length, heselected his man and immediately went to sleep. 

"The next morning he went to his office and wrote the nomination. JohnHay, the assistant private secretary, had taken it from the President onhis way to the Capitol, when he encountered Senator Fessenden upon thethreshold of the room. As chairman of the Finance Committee, he alsohad passed an anxious night, and called this early to consult withthe President, and offer some suggestions. After a few moments'conversation, Mr. Lincoln turned to him with a smile and said: 'I amobliged to you, Fessenden, but the fact is, I have just sent your ownname to the Senate for Secretary of the Treasury. Hay had just receivedthe nomination from my hand as you entered. ' Mr. Fessenden was takencompletely by surprise, and, very much agitated, protested his inabilityto accept the position. The state of his health, he said, if no otherconsideration, made it impossible. Mr. Lincoln would not acceptthe refusal as final. He very justly felt that with Mr. Fessenden'sexperience and known ability at the head of the Finance Committee, hisacceptance would go far toward reestablishing a feeling of security. Hesaid to him, very earnestly, 'Fessenden, the Lord has not deserted methus far, and He is not going to now--you must accept!'

"They separated, the Senator in great anxiety of mind. Throughoutthe day, Mr. Lincoln urged almost all who called to go and see Mr. Fessenden, and press upon him the duty of accepting. Among these, wasa delegation of New York bankers, who, in the name of the bankingcommunity, expressed their satisfaction at the nomination. This wasespecially gratifying to the President; and in the strongest manner, he entreated them to 'see Mr. Fessenden and assure him of theirsupport. '"(4)

In justification of his choice, Lincoln said to Hay:--"Thinking overthe matter, two or three points occurred to me: first his thoroughacquaintance with the business; as chairman of the Senate Committeeof Finance, he knows as much of this special subject as Mr. Chase; hepossesses a national reputation and the confidence of the country; he isa Radical without the petulance and fretfulness of many radicals. "(5)In other words, though he was not at heart one of them, he stood for themoment so close to the Vindictives that they would not make an issue onhis confirmation. 

Lincoln had scored a point in his game with the Vindictives. Butthe point was of little value. The game's real concern was thatReconstruction Bill which was now before the Senate with Wade as itsparticular sponsor. The great twin brethren of the Vindictives wereWade and Chandler. Both were furious for the passage of the bill. "TheExecutive, " said Wade angrily, "ought not to be allowed to handle thisgreat question of his own liking. "

On the last day of the session, Lincoln was in the President's room atthe Capitol Signing bills. The Reconstruction Bill, duly passed by bothHouses, was brought to him. Several Senators, friends of the bill anddeeply anxious, had come into the President's room hoping to see himaffix his signature. To their horror, he merely glanced at the bill andlaid it aside. Chandler, who was watching him, bluntly demanded what hemeant to do. "This bill, " said Lincoln, "has been placed before me a fewminutes before Congress adjourns. It is a matter of too much importanceto be swallowed in that way. "

"If it is vetoed, " said Chandler, whose anger was mounting, "it willdamage us fearfully in the Northwest. The important point is that oneprohibiting slavery in the Reconstructed States. "

"That is the point, " replied the President, "on which I doubt theauthority of Congress to act. "

"It is no more than you have done yourself, " retorted Chandler. 

Lincoln turned to him and said quietly but with finality: "I conceivethat I may in an emergency do things on military grounds which can notconstitutionally be done by Congress. "

Chandler angrily left the room. To those who remained, Lincoln added: "Ido not see how any of us now can deny and contradict what we have alwayssaid, that Congress has no constitutional power over slavery in theStates. "(6)

In a way, he was begging the question. The real issue was not how aState should be constitutionally reconstructed, but which, Presidentor Congress, had a right to assume dictatorial power. At last the trueVindictive issue, lured out of their arms by the Democrats, had escapedlike a bird from a snare and was fluttering home. Here was the old issueof the war powers in a new form that it was safe for them to press. And the President had squarely defied them. It was civil war inside theUnion party. And for both sides, President and Vindictives, there couldnow be nothing but rule or ruin. 

In this crisis of factional politics, Lincoln was unmoved, self-contained, lofty, deliberate. "If they (the Vindictives) choose tomake a point on this, I do not doubt that they can do harm. They havenever been friendly to me. At all events, I must keep some consciousnessof being somewhere near right. I must keep some standard of principlefixed within myself. "

XXXI A MENACING PAUSE

Lincoln had now reached his final stature. In contact with the world hisnote was an inscrutable serenity. The jokes which he continued to tellwere but transitory glimmerings. They crossed the surface of his moodlike quick flickers of golden light on a stormy March day, --witnessesthat the sun would yet prevail, --in a forest-among mountain shadows. Or, they were lightning glimmers in a night sky; they revealed, they didnot dispel, the dark beyond. Over all his close associates his personalascendency was complete. Now that Chase was gone, the last callous spotin the Cabinet had been amputated. Even Stanton, once so domineering, sodifficult to manage, had become as clay in his hands. 

But Lincoln never used power for its own sake, never abused hisascendency. Always he got his end if he could without evoking thenote of command. He would go to surprising lengths to avoid appearingperemptory. A typical remark was his smiling reply to a Congressman whomhe had armed with a note to the Secretary, who had returned aghast, the Secretary having refused to comply with the President's request andhaving decorated his refusal with extraordinary language. 

"Did Stanton say I was a damned fool?" asked Lincoln. "Then I dare sayI must be one, for Stanton is generally right and he always says what hemeans. "

Nevertheless, the time had come when Lincoln had only to say theword and Stanton, no matter how fierce his temper might' be, wouldacknowledge his master. General Fry, the Provost Marshal, witnessed ascene between them which is a curious commentary on the transformationof the Stanton of 1862. Lincoln had issued an order relative tothe disposition of certain recruits. Stanton protested that it wasunwarranted, that he would not put it into effect. The Provost Marshalwas called in and asked to state at length all the facts involved. Whenhe had finished Stanton broke out excitedly--

"'Now, Mr. President, those are the facts and you must see that yourorder can not be executed. '

"Lincoln sat upon a sofa with his legs crossed and did not say a worduntil the Secretary's last remark. Then he said in a somewhat positivetone, 'Mr. Secretary, I reckon you'll have to execute the order. '

"Stanton replied with asperity, 'Mr. President, I can not do it. Theorder is an improper one, and I can not execute it'. "

Lincoln fixed his eye upon Stanton, and in a firm voice with an accentthat clearly showed his determination, he said, "Mr. Secretary, it willhave to be done. "(1)

At this point, General Fry discreetly left the room. A few momentslater, he received instructions from Stanton to execute the President'sorder. 

In a public matter in the June of 1864 Lincoln gave a demonstration ofhis original way of doing things. It displayed his final serenity insuch unexpected fashion that no routine politician, no dealer in thecatchwords of statecraft, could understand it. Since that grim joke, the deportation of Vallandigham, the Copperhead leader had not had happytime. The Confederacy did not want him. He had made his way to Canada. Thence, in the spring of 1864 he served notice on his country that hewould perform a dramatic Part, play the role of a willing martyr--in aword, come home and defy the government to do its worst. He came. But Lincoln did nothing. The American sense of humor did the rest. IfVallandigham had not advertised a theatrical exploit, ignoring him mighthave been dangerous. But Lincoln knew his people. When the show did notcome off, Vallandigham was transformed in an instant from a martyr to ananticlimax. Though he went busily to work, though he lived to attend theDemocratic National Convention and to write the resolution that was theheart of its platform, his tale was told. 

Turning from Vallandigham, partly in amusement, partly in contempt, Lincoln grappled with the problem of reinforcing the army. Sincethe Spring of 1863 the wastage of the army had been replaced byconscription. But the system had not worked well. It contained a fatalprovision. A drafted man might escape service by paying three hundreddollars. Both the Secretary of War and the Provost Marshal had urged theabolition of this detail. Lincoln had communicated their arguments toCongress with his approval and a new law had been drawn up accordingly. Nevertheless, late in June, the House amended it by restoring theprivilege of commuting service for money. (2) Lincoln bestirred himself. The next day he called together the Republican members of the House. "With a sad, mysterious light in his melancholy eyes, as if they werefamiliar with things hidden from mortals" he urged the Congressmento reconsider their action. The time of three hundred eighty thousandsoldiers would expire in October. He must have half a million to taketheir places. A Congressman objected that elections were approaching;that the rigorous law he proposed would be intensely unpopular; that itmight mean the defeat, at the polls, of many Republican Representatives;it might even mean the President's defeat. He replied that he hadthought of all that. 

"My election is not necessary; I must put down the rebellion; I musthave five hundred thousand more men. "(3)

He raised the timid politicians to his own level, inspired them with newcourage. Two days later a struggle began in the House for carryingout Lincoln's purpose. On the last day of the session along with theoffensive Reconstruction Bill, he received the new Enrollment Act whichprovided that "no payment of money shall be accepted or received by theGovernment as commutation to release any enrolled or drafted man frompersonal obligation to per-form military service. "

Against this inflexible determination to fight to a finish, thisindifference to the political consequences of his determination, Lincolnbeheld arising like a portentous specter, a fury of pacifism. It foundexpression in Greeley. Always the swift victim of his own affrightedhope, Greeley had persuaded himself that both North and South had lostheart for the war; that there was needed only a moving appeal, and theywould throw down their arms and the millennium would come. Furthermore, on the flimsiest sort of evidence, he had fallen into a trap designedto place the Northern government in the attitude of suing for peace. Hewrote to Lincoln demanding that he send an agent to confer with certainConfederate officials who were reported to be then in Canada; he alsosuggested terms of peace. (4) Greeley's terms were entirely acceptableto Lincoln; but he had no faith in the Canadian mare's nest. However, he decided to give Greeley the utmost benefit of the doubt, and alsoto teach him a lesson. He commissioned Greeley himself to proceedto Canada, there to discover "if there is or is not anything in theaffair. " He wrote to him, "I not only intend a sincere effort for peace, but I intend that you shall be a personal witness that it is made. "(5)

Greeley, who did not want to have any responsibility for anything thatmight ensue, whose joy was to storm and to find fault, accepted the dutyhe could not well refuse, and set out in a bad humor. 

Meanwhile two other men had conceived an undertaking somewhat analogousbut in a temper widely different. These were Colonel Jaquess, aclergyman turned soldier, a man of high simplicity of character, and J. R. Gilmore, a writer, known by the pen name of Edmund Kirke. Jaquesshad told Gilmore of information he had received from friends in theConfederacy; he was convinced that nothing would induce the Confederategovernment to consider any terms of peace that embraced reunion, whetherwith or without emancipation. "It at once occurred to me, " says Gilmore, "that if this declaration could be got in such a manner that it couldbe given to the public, it would, if scattered broadcast over theNorth, destroy the peace-party and reelect Mr. Lincoln. " Gilmore wentto Washington and obtained an interview with the President. He assuredhim--and he was a newspaper correspondent whose experience was worthconsidering--that the new pacifism, the incipient "peace party, " wasschooling the country in the belief that an offer of liberal terms wouldbe followed by a Southern surrender. The masses wanted peace on anyterms that would preserve the Union; and the Democrats were going totell them in the next election that Lincoln could save the Union bynegotiation, if he would. Unless the popular mind were disabused ofthis fictitious hope, the Democrats would prevail and the Union wouldcollapse. But if an offer to negotiate should be made, and if "Davisshould refuse to negotiate--as he probably would, except on the basis ofSouthern independence--that fact alone would reunite the North, reelectLincoln, and thus save the Union. "(6)

"Then, " said Lincoln, "you would fight the devil with fire. You wouldget that declaration from Davis and use it against him. "

Gilmore defended himself by proposing to offer extremely liberal terms. There was a pause in the conversation. Lincoln who was seated at hisdesk "leaned slightly forward looking directly into (Gilmore's) eyes, but with an absent, far-away gaze as if unconscious of (his) presence. "Suddenly, relapsing into his usual badinage, he said, "God selects Hisown instruments and some times they are queer ones: for instance, Hechose me to see the ship of state through a great crisis. "(7) He went onto say that Gilmore and Jaquess might be the very men to serve a greatpurpose at this moment. Gilmore knew the world; and anybody could seeat a glance that Jaquess never told anything that wasn't true. If theywould go to Richmond on their own responsibility, make it plain toPresident Davis that they were not official agents, even taking thechance of arrest and imprisonment, they might go. This condition wasaccepted. Lincoln went on to say that no advantage should be taken ofMr. Davis; that nothing should be proposed which if accepted wouldnot be made good. After considerable further discussion he drew up amemorandum of the terms upon which he would consent to peace. There wereseven items:

1. The immediate dissolution of the armies. 

2. The abolition of slavery. 

3. A general amnesty. 

4. The Seceded States to resume their functions as states in the Unionas if no secession had taken place. 

5. Four hundred million dollars to be appropriated by Congress ascompensation for loss of slave property; no slaveholder, however, toreceive more than one-half the former value of his slaves. 

6. A national convention to be called for readjustment of all otherdifficulties. 

7. It to be understood that the purpose of negotiation was a fullrestoration of the Union as of old. (8)

Gilmore and Jaquess might say to Davis that they had private but sureknowledge that the President of the United States would agree to peaceon these terms. Thus provided, they set forth. 

Lincoln's thoughts were speedily claimed by an event which had noSuggestion of peace. At no time since Jackson threw the government intoa panic in the spring of 1862, had Washington been in danger of capture. Now, briefly, it appeared to be at the mercy of General Early. In thelast act of a daring raid above the Potomac, he came sweeping downon Washington from the North. As Grant was now the activecommander-in-chief, responsible for all the Northern armies, Lincolnwith a fatalistic calm made no move to take the capital out of hishands. When Early was known to be headed toward Washington, Lincolndrove out as usual to spend the night at the Soldiers' Home beyond thefortifications. Stanton, in whom there was a reminiscence at least ofthe hysterical Secretary of 1862, sent after him post haste and insistedon his returning. The next day, the eleventh of July, 1864, Washingtonwas invested by the Confederate forces. There was sharp firing in frontof several forts. Lincoln--and for that matter, Mrs. Lincoln also--madea tour of the defenses. While Fort Stevens was under fire, he stood onthe parapet, "apparently unconscious of danger, watching with that graveand passive countenance the progress of the fight, amid the whizzingbullets of the sharp shooters, until an officer fell mortally woundedwithin three feet of him, and General Wright peremptorily representedto him the needless risk he was running. " Hay recorded in his diary"the President in good feather this evening . . . Not concerned aboutWashington's safety . . . Only thought, can we bag or destroy the forcein our front. " He was much disappointed when Early eluded the forceswhich Grant hurried to the Capitol. Mrs. Lincoln was outspoken to thesame effect. The doughty little lady had also been under fire, hertemper being every whit as bold as her husband's. When Stanton witha monumental playfulness proposed to have her portrait painted in acommanding attitude on the parapet of Fort Stevens, she gave him thefreedom of her tongue, because of the inadequacy of his department. (9)

This incident had its aftermath. A country-place belonging to thePostmaster General had been laid waste. Its owner thought that theresponsibility for permitting Early to come so near to Washington fellchiefly on General Halleck. He made some sharp criticisms which becamepublic the General flew into a rage and wrote to the Secretary of War:"The Postmaster General ought to be dismissed by the President from theCabinet. " Stanton handed his letter to the President, from whom the nextday the General received this note: "Whether the remarks were made Ido not know, nor do I suppose such knowledge is necessary to a correctresponse. If they were made, I do not approve them; and yet, under thecircumstances, I would not dismiss a member of the Cabinet therefor. Ido not consider what may have been hastily said in a moment of vexationat so severe a loss is sufficient ground for so grave a step. Besidesthis, truth is generally the best vindication against slander. I proposecontinuing to be myself the judge as to when a member of the Cabinetshall be dismissed. " Lincoln spoke of the affair at his next conferencewith his Ministers. "I must, myself, be the judge, " said he, "how longto retain in and when to remove any of you from his position. It wouldgreatly pain me to discover any of you endeavoring to procure another'sremoval, or in any way to prejudice him before the public. Such anendeavor would be a wrong to me, and much worse, a wrong to the country. My wish is that on this subject no remark be made nor question asked byany of you, here or elsewhere, now or hereafter. "(10)

Not yet had anything resulted either from the Canadian mission ofGreeley, or from the Richmond adventure of Gilmore and Jaquess. Therewas a singular ominous pause in events. Lincoln could not be blind tothe storm signals that had attended the close of Congress. What were theVindictives about? As yet they had made no Sign. But it was incrediblethat they could pass over his defiance without a return blow. When wouldit come? What would it be?

He spent his nights at the Soldiers' Home. As a rule, his family werewith him. Sometimes, however, Mrs. Lincoln and his sons would be absentand his only companion was one of the ardent young secretaries. Thenhe would indulge in reading Shakespeare aloud, it might be with suchforgetfulness of time that only the nodding of the tired young headrecalled him to himself and brought the reading to an end. A visitor hasleft this charming picture of Lincoln at the Soldiers' Home in the sadsweetness of a summer night:

"The Soldiers' Home is a few miles out of Washington on the Marylandside. It is situated on a beautiful wooded hill, which you ascend by awinding path, shaded on both sides by wide-spread branches, forming agreen arcade above you. When you reach the top you stand between twomansions, large, handsome and substantial, but with nothing aboutthem to indicate the character of either. That on the left is thePresidential country house; that directly before you, is the 'Rest, ' forsoldiers who are too old for further service . . . In the graveyard nearat hand there are numberless graves--some without a spear of grass tohide their newness--that hold the bodies of volunteers. 

"While we stood in the soft evening air, watching the faint trembling ofthe long tendrils of waving willow, and feeling the dewy coolness thatwas flung out by the old oaks above us, Mr. Lincoln joined us, and stoodsilent, too, taking in the scene. 

"'How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishesblest, " he said, softly. . . 

"Around the 'Home' grows every variety of tree, particularly of theevergreen class. Their branches brushed into the carriage as we passedalong, and left us with that pleasant woody smell belonging to leaves. One of the ladies, catching a bit of green from one of these intrudingbranches, said it was cedar, and another thought it spruce. 

"'Let me discourse on a theme I understand, ' said the President. 'Iknow all about trees in right of being a backwoodsman. I'll show youthe difference between spruce, pine and cedar, and this shred of green, which is neither one nor the other, but a kind of illegitimatecypress. He then proceeded to gather specimens of each, and explain thedistinctive formation of foliage belonging to each. "(11)

Those summer nights of July, 1864, had many secrets which the tiredPresident musing in the shadows of the giant trees or finding solacewith the greatest of earthly minds would have given much to know. Howwere Gilmore and Jaquess faring? What was really afoot in Canada? Andthat unnatural silence of the Vindictives, what did that mean? And thetwo great armies, Grant's in Virginia, Sherman's in Georgia, was therenever to be stirring news of either of these? The hush of the moment, the atmosphere of suspense that seemed to envelop him, it was just whathad always for his imagination had such strange charm in the stories offated men. He turned again to Macbeth, or to Richard II, or to Hamlet. Shakespeare, too, understood these mysterious pauses--who better!

The sense of the impending was strengthened by the alarms of some of hisbest friends. They besought him to abandon his avowed purpose to callfor a draft of half a million under the new Enrollment Act. Many voicesjoined the one chorus: the country is on the verge of despair; you willwreck the cause by demanding another colossal sacrifice. But he wouldnot listen. When, in desperation, they struck precisely the wrong note, and hinted at the ruin of his political prospects, he had his calmreply: "it matters not what becomes of me. We must have men. If I godown, I intend to go like the Cumberland, with my colors flying. "(12)

Thus the days passed until the eighteenth of July. Meanwhile theirresponsible Greeley had made a sad mess of his Canadian adventure. Though Lincoln had given him definite instructions, requiring him tonegotiate only with agents who could produce written authority fromDavis, and who would treat on the basis of restoration of the Unionand abandonment of slavery, Greeley ignored both these unconditionalrequirements. (13) He had found the Confederate agents at Niagara. Theyhad no credentials. Nevertheless, he invited them to come to Washingtonand open negotiations. Of the President's two conditions, he said not aword. This was just what the agents wanted. It could easily be twistedinto the semblance of an attempt by Lincoln to sue for peace. Theyaccepted the invitation. Greeley telegraphed to Lincoln reporting whathe had done. Of course, it was plain that he had misrepresentedLincoln; that he had far exceeded his authority; and that his perverseunfaithfulness must be repudiated. On July eighteenth, Hay set out forNiagara with this paper in Lincoln's handwriting. (14)

"To whom it may concern: Any proposition which embraces the restorationof peace, the integrity of the whole Union, and the abandonment ofslavery, and which comes by and with an authority that can controlthe armies now at war against the United States, will be received andconsidered by the executive government of the United States, and will bemet by liberal terms on other substantial and collateral points and thebearer or bearers thereof shall have, safe conduct both ways. ABRAHAMLINCOLN. "

This was the end of the negotiation. The agents could not accept theseterms. Immediately, they published a version of what had happened: theyhad been invited to come to Washington; subsequently, conditions hadbeen imposed which made it impossible for them to accept Was notthe conclusion plain? The Washington government was trying to opennegotiations but it was also in the fear of its own supporters playingcraftily a double game. These astute diplomats saw that there was apsychological crisis in the North. By adding to the confusion of thehour they had well served their cause. Greeley's fiasco was susceptibleof a double interpretation. To the pacifists it meant that thegovernment, whatever may have been intended at the start, had ended bysetting impossible conditions of peace. To the supporters of the war, itmeant that whatever were the last thoughts of the government, it hadfor a time contemplated peace without any conditions at all. Lincolnwas severely condemned, Greeley was ridiculed, by both groups ofinterpreters. Why did not Greeley come out bravely and tell the truth?Why did he not confess that he had suppressed Lincoln's first set ofinstructions; that it was he, on his own responsibility, who had led theConfederate agents astray; that he, not Lincoln was solely to blame forthe false impression that was now being used so adroitly to injure thePresident? Lincoln proposed to publish their correspondence, but made acondition that was characteristic. Greeley's letters rang with criesof despair. He was by far the most influential Northern editor. Lincolnasked him to strike out these hopeless passages. Greeley refused. The correspondence must be published entire or not at all. Lincolnsuppressed it. He let the blame of himself go on; and he said nothing inextenuation. (15)

He took some consolation in a "card" that appeared in the BostonTranscript, July 22. It gave a brief account of the adventure of Gilmoreand Jaquess, and stated the answer given to them by the President of theConfederacy. That answer, as restated by the Confederate Secretary ofState, was: "he had no authority to receive proposals for negotiationsexcept by virtue of his office as President of an independentConfederacy and on this basis alone must proposals be made to him. "(16)

There was another circumstance that may well have been Lincoln'sconsolation in this tangle of cross-purposes. Only boldness couldextricate him from the mesh of his difficulties. The mesh was destinedto grow more and more of a snare; his boldness was to grow with hisdanger. He struck the note that was to rule his conduct thereafter, when, on the day he sent the final instructions to Greeley, in defianceof his timid advisers, he issued a proclamation calling for a new draftof half a million men. (17)

XXXII. THE AUGUST CONSPIRACY

Though the Vindictives kept a stealthy silence during July, they weresharpening their claws and preparing for a tiger spring whenever thepsychological moment should arrive. Those two who had had charge of theReconstruction Bill prepared a paper, in some ways the most singularpaper of the war period, which has established itself in our historyas the Wade-Davis Manifesto. This was to be the deadly shot that shouldunmask the Vindictive batteries, bring their war upon the President outof the shadows into the open. 

Greeley's fiasco and Greeley's mortification both played into theirhands. The fiasco contributed to depress still more the despairingNorth. By this time, there was general appreciation of the immensityof Grant's failure, not only at Cold Harbor, but in the subsequentslaughter of the futile assault upon Petersburg. We have the word of amember of the Committee that the despair over Grant translated itselfinto blame of the Administration. (1) The Draft Proclamation; the swiftlytraveling report that the government had wilfully brought the peacenegotiations to a stand-still; the continued cry that the war washopeless; all these produced, about the first of August, an emotionalcrisis--just the sort of occasion for which Lincoln's enemies werewaiting. 

Then, too, there was Greeley's mortification. The Administration papersmade him a target for sarcasm. The Times set the pace with scornfuldemands for "No more back door diplomacy. "(2) Greeley answered in arage. He permitted himself to imply that the President originated theNiagara negotiation and that Greeley "reluctantly" became a party to it. That "reluctantly" was the truth, in a sense, but how falsely true! Wadeand Davis had him where they wanted him. On the fifth of August, TheTribune printed their manifesto. It was an appeal to "the supporters ofthe Administration . . . To check the encroachment of the Executive onthe authority of Congress, and to require it to confine itself to itsproper sphere. " It insinuated the basest motives for the President'sinterest in reconstruction, and for rejecting their own bill. "ThePresident by preventing this bill from becoming a law, holds theelectoral votes of the Rebel States at the dictation of his personalambition. . . . If electors for President be allowed to be chosen ineither of those States, a sinister light will be cast on the motiveswhich induced the President to 'hold for naught' the will of Congressrather than his government in Louisiana and Arkansas. "

After a long discussion of his whole course with regard toreconstruction, having heaped abuse upon him with shocking liberality, the Manifesto concluded:

"Such are the fruits of this rash and fatal act of the President--a blowat the friends of the Administration, at the rights of humanity, andat the principles of Republican government The President has greatlypresumed on the forbearance which the supporters of his Administrationhave so long practised in view of the arduous conflict in which we areengaged, and the reckless ferocity of our political opponents. But hemust understand that our support is of a 'cause' and not of a man; thatthe authority of Congress is paramount and must be respected; that thewhole body of the Union men in Congress will not submit to be impeachedby him of rash and unconstitutional legislation; and if he wishes oursupport he must confine him-self to his executive duties--to obey andexecute, not make the laws--to suppress by arms, armed rebellion, andleave political reorganization to Congress. If the supporters of thegovernment fail to insist on this they become responsible for theusurpations they fail to rebuke and are justly liable to the indignationof the people whose rights and security, committed to their keeping, they sacrifice. Let them consider the remedy of these usurpations, and, having found it, fearlessly execute it. "

To these incredible charges, Lincoln made no reply. He knew, what somestatesmen never appear to know, the times when one should risk all uponthat French proverb, "who excuses, accuses. " However, he made his futileattempt to bring Greeley to reason, to induce him to tell the truthabout Niagara without confessing to the country the full measure of thedespair that had inspired his course. When Greeley refused to do so, Lincoln turned to other matters, to preparation for the draft, andgrimly left the politicians to do their worst. They went about it withzest. Their reliance was chiefly their power to infect the type of partyman who is easily swept from his moorings by the cry that the party isin danger, that sacrifices must be made to preserve the party unity, that otherwise the party will go to pieces. By the middle of August, sixweeks after Lincoln's defiance of them on the fourth of July, theywere in high feather, convinced that most things were coming their way. American politicians have not always shown an ability to read clearlythe American people. Whether the politicians were in error on August14, 1864, and again on August twenty-third, two dates that were turningpoints, is a matter of debate to this day. As to August fourteenth, they have this, at least, in their defense. The country had no politicalobserver more keen than the Scotch free lance who edited The New YorkHerald. It was Bennett's editorial view that Lincoln would do wellto make a virtue of necessity and withdraw his candidacy because "thedissatisfaction which had long been felt by the great body of Americancitizens has spread even to his own supporters. "(3) Confident thata great reaction against Lincoln was sweeping the country, that theManifesto had been launched in the very nick of time, a meeting ofconspirators was held in New York, at the house of David Dudley Field, August fourteenth. Though Wade was now at his home in Ohio, Davis waspresent. So was Greeley. It was decided to ask Lincoln to withdraw. Fourdays afterward, a "call" was drawn up and sent out confidentially nearand far to be signed by prominent politicians. The "call" was craftilyworded. It summoned a new Union Convention to meet in Cincinnati, September twenty-eighth, for the purpose either of rousing the party towhole-hearted support of Lincoln, or of uniting all factions on some newcandidate. Greeley who could not attend the committee which drew up the"call" wrote that "Lincoln is already beaten. "(4)

Meanwhile, the infection of dismay had spread fast among the Lincolnmanagers. Even before the meeting of the conspirators on the fourteenth, Weed told the President that he could not be reelected. (5)

One of his bravest supporters, Washburne, came to the dismal conclusionthat "were an election to be held now in Illinois, we should be beaten. "Cameron, who had returned from Russia and was working hard for Lincolnin Pennsylvania, was equally discouraging. So was Governor Morton inIndiana. From all his "stanchest friends, " wrote his chief manager toLincoln, "there was but one report. The tide is setting strongly againstus. "(6)

Lincoln's managers believed that the great host of free voters who arethe balance of power in American politics, were going in a drove towardthe camp of the Democrats. It was the business of the managers todetermine which one, or which ones, among the voices of discontent, represented truly this controlling body of voters. They thought theyknew. Two cries, at least, that rang loud out of the Babel of the hour, should be heeded. One of these harked back to Niagara. In the anxiousears of the managers it dinned this charge: "the Administrationprevented negotiations for peace by tying together two demands, theUnion must be restored and slavery must be abolished; if Lincoln hadleft out slavery, he could have had peace in a restored Union. " It wasridiculous, as every one who had not gone off his head knew. But so manyhad gone off their heads. And some of Lincoln's friends were meetingthis cry in a way that was raising up other enemies of a different sort. Even so faithful a friend as Raymond, editor of The Times and Chairmanof the Republican National Executive Committee, labored hard in print toprove that because Lincoln said he "would consider terms that embracedthe integrity of the Union and the abandonment of slavery, he did notsay that he would not receive them unless they embraced both theseconditions. "(7) What would Sumner and all the Abolitionists say tothat? As party strategy, in the moment when the old Vindictive Coalitionseemed on the highroad to complete revival, was that exactly the tune tosing? Then too there was the other cry that also made a fearful ringingin the ears of the much alarmed Executive Committee. There was wildtalk in the air of an armistice. The hysteric Greeley had put it intoa personal letter to Lincoln. "I know that nine-tenths of the wholeAmerican people, North and South, are anxious for peace--peace on anyterms--and are utterly sick of human slaughter and devastation. I knowthat, to the general eye, it now seems that the Rebels are anxious tonegotiate and that we repulse their advances. . . . I beg you, I imploreyou to inaugurate or invite proposals for peace forthwith. And in casepeace can not now be made, consent to an armistice for one year, eachparty to retain all it now holds, but the Rebel ports to be opened. Meantime, let a national convention be held and there will surely be nowar at all events. "(8)

This armistice movement was industriously advertised in the Democraticpapers. It was helped along by the Washington correspondent of TheHerald who sowed broadcast the most improbable stories with regard toit. Today, Secretary Fessenden was a convert to the idea; another day, Senator Wilson had taken it up; again, the President, himself, was foran armistice. (9)

A great many things came swiftly to a head within a few days before orafter the twentieth of August. Every day or two, rumor took a new turn;or some startling new alignment was glimpsed; and every one reacted tothe news after his kind. And always the feverish question, what is thestrength of the faction that approves this? Or, how far will this gotoward creating a new element in the political kaleidoscope? About thetwentieth of August, Jaquess and Gilmore threw a splashing stone intothese troubled waters. They published in The Atlantic a full account oftheir interview with Davis, who, in the clearest, most unfaltering wayhad told them that the Southerners were fighting for independence andfor nothing else; that no compromise over slavery; nothing but therecognition of the Confederacy as a separate nation would induce themto put up their bright swords. As Lincoln subsequently, in his perfectclarity of speech, represented Davis: "He would accept nothing short ofseverance of the Union--precisely what we will not and can not give. . . . He does not attempt to deceive us. He affords us no excuse to deceiveourselves. He can not voluntarily reaccept the Union; we can notvoluntarily yield it"(10)

Whether without the intrusion of Jaquess and Gilmore, the ExecutiveCommittee would have come to the conclusion they now reached, is a merespeculation. They thought they were at the point of desperation. Theythought they saw a way out, a way that reminds one of Jaquess andGilmore. On the twenty-second, Raymond sent that letter to Lincoln about"the tide setting strongly against us. " He also proposed the Committee'sway of escape: nothing but to offer peace to Davis "on the solecondition of acknowledging the supremacy of the Constitution--allother questions to be settled in a convention of the people of all theStates. "(11) He assumed the offer would be rejected. Thus the clamorfor negotiation would be met and brought to naught. Having sent off hisletter, Raymond got his committee together and started for Washingtonfor a council of desperation. 

And this brings us to the twenty-third of August. On that day, ponderingRaymond's letter, Lincoln took thought with himself what he shouldsay to the Executive Committee. A mere opportunist would have met thesituation with some insincere proposal, by the formulation of terms thatwould have certainly been rejected. We have seen how Lincoln reasonedin such a connection when he drew up the memorandum for Jaquess andGilmore. His present problem involved nothing of this sort. What hewas thinking out was how best to induce the committee to accept his ownattitude; to become for the moment believers in destiny; to nail theircolors; turn their backs as he was doing on these devices of diplomacy;and as to the rest-permit to heaven. 

Whatever his managers might think, the serious matter in Lincoln's mind, that twenty-third of August, was the draft. And back of the draft, atremendous matter which probably none of them at the time appreciated. Assuming that they were right in their political forecast, assuming thathe was not to be reelected, what did it signify? For him, there was butone answer: that he had only five months in which to end the war. Andwith the tide running strong against him, what could he do? But onething: use the war powers while they remained in his hands in everyconceivable way that might force a conclusion on the field of battle. He recorded his determination. A Cabinet meeting was held on thetwenty-third. Lincoln handed his Ministers a folded paper and askedthem to write their initials on the back. At the time he gave them nointimation what the paper contained. It was the following memorandum:"This morning, as for some days past, it seems exceedingly probable thatthis Administration will not be reelected. Then it will be my duty toso cooperate with the President elect as to save the Union between theelection and the inauguration, as he will have secured his election onsuch ground that he can not possibly save it afterward. "(12)

He took into his confidence "the stronger half of the Cabinet, Seward, Stanton and Fessenden, " and together they assaulted the Committee. (13)It was a reception amazingly different from what had been expected. Instead of terrified party diplomats shaking in their shoes, trying toface all points at once, morbid over possible political defeats in everyquarter, they found what may have seemed to them a man in a dream;one who was intensely sad, but who gave no suggestion of panic, nosolicitude about his own fate, no doubt of his ultimate victory. Theirpractical astuteness was disarmed by that higher astuteness attainedonly by peculiar minds which can discern through some sure interior testthe rare moment when it is the part of wisdom not to be astute at all. 

Backed by those strong Ministers, all entirely under his influence, Lincoln fully persuaded the Committee that at this moment, any overturefor peace would be the worst of strategic blunders, "would be worse thanlosing the presidential contest--it would be ignominiously surrenderingit in advance. "(14)

Lincoln won a complete spiritual victory over the Committee. Thesedispirited men, who had come to Washington to beg for a policy ofnegotiation, went away in such a different temper that Bennett'sWashington correspondent jeered in print at the "silly report" of theirhaving assembled to discuss peace. (15) Obviously, they had merely helda meeting of the Executive Committee. The Tribune correspondenttelegraphed that they were confident of Lincoln's reelection. (16)

On the day following the conference with Lincoln, The Times announced:"You may rest assured that all reports attributing to the government anymovements looking toward negotiations for peace at present are utterlywithout foundation. . . . The government has not entertained ordiscussed the project of proposing an armistice with the Rebels nor hasit any intention of sending commissioners to Richmond . . . Its soleand undivided purpose is to prosecute the war until the rebellion isquelled. . . . " Of equal significance was the announcement by The Times, fairly to be considered the Administration organ: "The President standsfirm against every solicitation to postpone the draft. "(17)

XXXIII. THE RALLY TO THE PRESIDENT

The question insists upon rising again: were the anti-Lincolnpoliticians justified in their exultation, the Lincoln politiciansjustified in their panic? Nobody will ever know; but it is worthconsidering that the shrewd opportunist who expressed himself throughThe Herald changed his mind during a fortnight in August. By oneof those odd coincidences of which history is full, it was on thetwenty-third of the month that he warned the Democrats and jeered at theRepublicans in this insolent fashion:

"Many of our leading Republicans are now furious against Lincoln. . . . Bryant of The Evening Post is very angry with Lincoln because Henderson, The Post's publisher, has been arrested for defrauding the government. 

"Raymond is a little shaky and has to make frequent journeys toWashington for instructions. . . . 

"Now, to what does all this amount? Our experience of politics convincesus that it amounts to nothing. The sorehead Republicans complain thatLincoln gives them either too little shoddy or too little nigger. Whatcandidate can they find who will give them more of either?

"The Chicago (Democratic) delegates must very emphatically comprehendthat they must beat the whole Re-publican party if they elect theircandidate. It is a strong party even yet and has a heavy army vote todraw upon. The error of relying too greatly upon the weakness of theRepublicans as developed in the quarrels of the Republican leaders, may prove fatal . . . The Republican leaders may have their personalquarrels, or their shoddy quarrels, or their nigger quarrels with OldAbe; but he has the whip hand of them and they will soon be bobbing backinto the Republican fold, like sheep who have gone astray. The most ofthe fuss some of them kick up now, is simply to force Lincoln to givethem their terms. . 

"We have studied all classes of politicians in our day and we warnthe Chicago Convention to put no trust in the Republican soreheads. Furiously as some of them denounce Lincoln now, and lukewarm as the restof them are in his cause, they will all be shouting for him as the onlytrue Union candidate as soon as the nominations have all been made andthe chances for bargains have passed. 

"Whatever they say now, we venture to predict that Wade and his tail;and Bryant and his tail; and Wendell Phillips and his tail; and Weed, Barney, Chase and their tails; and Winter Davis, Raymond, Opdyke andForney who have no tails; will all make tracks for Old Abe's plantation, and will soon be found crowing and blowing, and vowing and writing, andswearing and stumping the state on his side, declaring that he and healone, is the hope of the nation, the bugaboo of Jeff Davis, the firstof Conservatives, the best of Abolitionists, the purest of patriots, the most gullible of mankind, the easiest President to manage, and theperson especially predestined and foreordained by Providence to carry onthe war, free the niggers, and give all the faithful a fair share of thespoils. The spectacle will be ridiculous; but it is inevitable. "(1)

The cynic of The Herald had something to go upon besides his generalknowledge of politicians and elections. The Manifesto had not met withuniversal acclaim. In the course of this month of surprises, there wereseveral things that an apprehensive observer might interpret as theshadow of that hand of fate which was soon to appear upon the wall. In the Republican Convention of the Nineteenth Ohio District, whichincluded Ashtabula County, Wade's county, there were fierce words andthen with few dissenting votes, a resolution, "That the recent attackupon the President by Wade and Davis is, in our opinion, ill-timed, ill-tempered, and ill-advised . . . And inasmuch as one of the authorsof said protest is a citizen of this Congressional District and indebtedin no small degree to our friendship for the position, we deem it aduty no less imperative than disagreeable, to pronounce uponthat disorganizing Manifesto our unqualified disapproval andcondemnation. "(2)

To be sure there were plenty of other voices from Ohio and elsewhereapplauding "The War on the President. " Nevertheless, there were signs ofa reluctance to join the movement, and some of these in quarters wherethey had been least expected. Notably, the Abolitionist leaders wereslow to come forward. Sumner was particularly slow. He was ready, indeed, to admit that a better candidate than Lincoln could be found, and there was a whisper that the better candidate was himself. However, he was unconditional that he would not participate in a fight againstLincoln. If the President could be persuaded to withdraw, that was onething. But otherwise--no Sumner in the conspiracy. (3)

Was it possible that Chandler, Wade, Davis and the rest had jumped toosoon? To rebuild the Vindictive Coalition, the group in which Sumner hada place was essential. This group was composed of Abolitionists, chieflyNew Englanders, and for present purpose their central figure was Andrew, the Governor of Massachusetts. During the latter half of August, thefate of the Conspiracy hung on the question, Can Andrew and his group bedrawn in?

Andrew did not like the President. He was one of those who never gotover their first impression of the strange new man of 1861. He insistedthat Lincoln lacked the essential qualities of a leader. "To comprehendthis objection, " says his frank biographer, "which to us seems soastoundingly wide of the mark, we must realize that whenever the NewEnglander of that generation uttered the word 'leader' his mind'seye was filled with the image of Daniel Webster . . . His commandingpresence, his lofty tone about affairs of state, his sonorous professionof an ideal, his whole ex cathedra attitude. All those characteristicssupplied the aristocratic connotation of the word 'leader' as requiredby a community in which a considerable measure of aristocratic sympathystill lingered. Andrew and his friends were like the men of old whohaving known Saul before time, and beholding him prophesying, asked 'IsSaul also among the prophets?'"(4)

But Andrew stood well outside the party cabals that were hatched atWashington. He and his gave the conspirators a hearing from a reasonwidely different from any of theirs. They distrusted the ExecutiveCommittee. The argument that had swept the Committee for the moment offits feet filled the stern New Englanders with scorn. They were prompt todeny any sympathy with the armistice movement. (5) As Andrew put it, thechief danger of the hour was the influence of the Executive Committeeon the President, whom he persisted in considering a weak man; the chiefduty of the hour was to "rescue" Lincoln, or in some other way to "checkthe peace movement of the Republican managers. "(6) if it were fairlycertain that this could be effected only by putting the conspiracythrough, Andrew would come in. But could he be clear in his own mindthat this was the thing to do? While he hesitated, Jaquess and Gilmoredid their last small part in American history and left the stage. Theymade a tour of the Northern States explaining to the various governorsthe purposes of their mission to Richmond, and reporting in full theiraudience with Davis and the impressions they had formed. (7) This was apoint in favor of Lincoln--as Andrew thought. On the other hand, therewere the editorials of The Times. As late as the twenty-fourth ofAugust, the day before the Washington conference, The Times assertedthat the President would waive all the objects for which the war hadbeen fought, including Abolition, if any proposition of peace shouldcome that embraced the integrity of the Union. To be sure, this was notconsistent with the report of Jaquess and Gilmore and their statementof terms actually set down by Lincoln. And yet--it came from theAdministration organ edited by the chairman of the Executive Committee. Was "rescue" of the President anything more than a dream?

It was just here that Lincoln intervened and revolutionized the wholesituation. With what tense interest Andrew must have waited for reportsof that conference held at Washington on the twenty-fifth. And with whatdelight he must have received them! The publication on the twenty-sixthof the sweeping repudiation of the negotiation policy; the reassertionthat the Administration's "sole and undivided purpose was to prosecutethe war. " Simultaneous was another announcement, also in the minds ofthe New Englanders, of first importance: "So far as there being anyprobability of President Lincoln withdrawing from the canvass, assome have suggested, the gentlemen comprising the Committee expressthemselves as confident of his reelection. "(8)

Meanwhile the letters asking for signatures to the pro-posed "call" hadbeen circulated and the time had come to take stock of the result FromOhio, Wade had written in a sanguine mood. He was for issuing thecall the moment the Democratic Convention had taken action. (9) On thetwenty-ninth that convention met. On the thirtieth, the conspiratorsreassembled--again at the house of David Dudley Field--and Andrewattended. He had not committed himself either way. 

And now Lincoln's firmness with the Executive Committee had its reward. The New Englanders had made up their minds. Personally, he was stillobnoxious to them; but in light of his recent pronouncement, they wouldtake their chances on "rescuing" him from the Committee; and since hewould not withdraw, they would not cooperate in splitting the Unionparty. But they could not convince the conspirators. A long debate endedin an agreement to disagree. The New Englanders withdrew, confessedpartisans of Lincoln. (10) It was the beginning of the end. 

Andrew went back to Boston to organize New England for Lincoln. J. M. Forbes remained to organize New York. (11) All this, ignoring theExecutive Committee. It was a new Lincoln propaganda, not in oppositionto the Committee but in frank rivalry: "Since, or if, we must haveLincoln, " said Andrew, "men of motive and ideas must get into the lead, must elect him, get hold of 'the machine' and 'run it' themselves. "(12)

The bottom was out of the conspiracy; but the leaders at New York wereslow to yield. Despite the New England secession, they thought theDemocratic platform, on which McClellan had been invited to stand ascandidate for the Presidency, gave them another chance, especially thefamous resolution:

"That this Convention does explicitly declare, as the sense of theAmerican people, after four years of failure to restore the Union bythe experiment of war, during which, under the pretense of a militarynecessity, or war power higher than the Constitution, the Constitutionitself has been disregarded in every part, and the public liberty andthe private right alike trodden down and the material prosperity of thecountry essentially impaired, justice, humanity, liberty and thepublic welfare demand that immediate efforts be made for a cessationof hostilities, with a view to an ultimate convention of the States, orother peaceable means to the end that at the earliest practicable momentpeace may be restored on the basis of the Federal Union of the States. "

Some of the outlying conspirators also suffered a revival of hope. TheCincinnati Gazette came out flat foot for the withdrawal of Lincoln. (13)So did The Cincinnati Times, pressing hard for the new convention. (14)On the second of September, three New York editors, Greeley for TheTribune, Parke Godwin for The Post, and Tilton for The Independent, werebusily concocting a circular letter to Governors of the States with aview to saving the conspiracy. (15)

But other men were at work in a different fashion, that same day. Lincoln's cause had been wrecked so frequently by his generals thatwhenever a general advanced, the event seems boldly dramatic. While thepoliticians at New York and Chicago thought they were loading the scalesof fate, long lines of men in blue were moving through broken woodlandand over neglected fields against the gray legions defending Atlanta. Said General Hood, it was "evident that General Sherman was moving withhis main body to destroy the Macon road, and that the fate of Atlantadepended on our ability to defeat this movement. " During the fatefulpow-pow at the house of Dudley Field, Sherman's army like a colossalscythe was swinging round Atlanta, from the west and south, across FlintRiver, through the vital railway, on toward the city. On the second ofSeptember, the news that Atlanta was taken "electrified the people ofthe North. "(16)

The first thought of every political faction, when, on the third, the newspapers were ringing with this great news, was either how tocapitalize it for themselves, or how to forestall its capitalizationby some one else. Forbes "dashed off" a letter to Andrew urging animmediate demonstration for Lincoln. (17) He was sure the Raymond groupwould somehow try to use the victory as a basis for recovering theirleadership. Davis was eager to issue the "call" at once. (18) But hisfellows hesitated. And while they hesitated, Andrew and the peopleacted. On the sixth, a huge Lincoln rally was held at Faneul Hall. Andrew presided. Sumner spoke. (19) That same day, Vermont held Stateelections and went Republican by a rousing majority. On the dayfollowing occurred the Convention of the Union party of New York. Enthusiastic applause was elicited by a telegram from Vermont. "Thefirst shell that was thrown by Sherman into Atlanta has exploded in theCopperhead Camp in this State, and the Unionists have poured in asalute with shotted guns. "(20) The mixed metaphors did not reduce thetelegram's effect. The New York Convention formally endorsed Lincoln asthe candidate of the Union party for President. 

So much for the serious side of the swiftly changing politicalkaleidoscope. There was also a comic side. Only three dayssufficed--from Davis's eagerness to proceed on the fourth to lettersand articles written or printed on the seventh--only three days, and theleaders of the conspiracy began turning their coats. A typical letterof the seventh at Syracuse describes "an interview with Mr. Opdyke thismorning, who told me the result of his efforts to obtain signaturesto our call which was by no means encouraging. I have found the samesentiment prevailing here. A belief that it is too late to make anyeffectual demonstration, and therefore that it is not wise to attemptany. I presume that the new-born enthusiasm created by the Atlanta newswill so encourage Lincoln that he can not be persuaded to withdraw. "(21)Two days more and the anti-Lincoln newspapers began to draw in theirhorns. That Independent, whose editor had been one of the three in thelast ditch but a week before, handsomely recanted, scuttling across towhat now seemed the winning side. "The prospect of victory is brilliant. If a fortnight ago the prospect of Mr. Lincoln's reelection seemeddoubtful, the case is now changed. The odious character of the Chicagoplatform, the sunshiny effect of the late victories, have rekindled theold enthusiasm in loyal hearts. "(22) One day more, and Greeley sullenlytook his medicine. The Tribune began printing "The Union Ticket--forPresident, Abraham Lincoln. "

There remains the most diverting instance of the haste with whichcoats were turned. On the sixth of September, only three days afterAtlanta!--the very day of the great Lincoln rally, the crown of Andrew'sgeneralship, at Fanuel Hall--a report was sent out from Washington that"Senator Wade is to take the stump for Mr. Lincoln. "(23) Less than aweek later The Washington Chronicle had learned "with satisfaction, though not with surprise, that Senator Wade, notwithstanding hissignature to a celebrated Manifesto, had enrolled himself among theLincoln forces. "(24) Exactly two weeks after Atlanta, Wade made hisfirst speech for Lincoln as President. It was a "terrific assault uponthe Copperhead policy. "(25)

The ship of the conspiracy was sinking fast, and on every hand was hearda scurrying patter of escaping politicians. 

XXXIV. "FATHER ABRAHAM"

The key-notes of Lincoln's course with the Executive Committee, hisrefusal to do anything that appeared to him to be futile, his firmnessnot to cast about and experiment after a policy, his basing of allhis plans on the vision in his own mind of their sure fruitage--thesecontinued to be his key-notes throughout the campaign. They ruled hisaction in a difficult matter with which he was quickly forced to deal. 

Montgomery Blair, the Postmaster General, was widely and bitterlydisliked. Originally a radical Republican, he had quarreled with thatwing of the party. In 1863 the Union League of Philadelphia, which elected all the rest of the Cabinet honorary members of itsorganization, omitted Blair. A reference to the Cabinet in the Unionplatform of 1864 was supposed to be a hint that the Postmaster Generalwould serve his country, if he resigned. During the dark days of thesummer of 1864, the President's mail was filled with supplications forthe dismissal of Blair. (1) He was described as an incubus that mightcause the defeat of the Administration. 

If the President's secretaries were not prejudiced witnesses, Blair hadworn out his welcome in the Cabinet. He had grown suspicious. He triedto make Lincoln believe that Seward was plotting with the Copperheads. Nevertheless, Lincoln turned a deaf ear to the clamor against him. Merely personal considerations were not compelling. If it was true, asfor a while he believed it was, that his election was already lost, hedid not propose to throw Blair over as a mere experiment. True to hisprinciples he would not become a juggler with futility. 

The turn of the tide in his favor put the matter in a new light. All theenemies of Blair renewed their attack on a slightly different line. Oneof those powerful New Englanders who had come to Lincoln's aid at suchan opportune moment led off. On the second day following the news ofAtlanta, Henry Wilson wrote to him, "Blair, every one hates. Tens ofthousands of men will be lost to you, or will give you a reluctant votebecause of the Blairs. "(2)

If this was really true, the selfless man would not hesitate to' requireof Blair the same sort of sacrifice he would, in other conditions, require of himself. Lincoln debated this in his own mind nearly threeweeks. 

Meanwhile, various other politicians joined the hue and cry. An oldfriend of Lincoln's, Ebenezer Peck, came east from Illinois to work uponhim against Blair. (3) Chandler, who like Wade was eager to get out ofthe wrong ship, appeared at Washington as a friend of the Administrationand an enemy of Blair. (4) But still Lincoln did not respond. After all, was it certain that one of these votes would change if Blair did notresign? Would anything be accomplished, should Lincoln require hisresignation, except the humiliation of a friend, the gratification ofa pack of malcontents? And then some one thought of a mode for givingdefinite political value to Blair's removal. Who did it? The anonymousauthor of the only biography of Chandler claims this doubtful honor forthe great Jacobin. Lincoln's secretaries, including Colonel Stoddard whohad charge of his correspondence, are ignorant on the subject. (5) It maywell have been Chandler who negotiated a bargain with Fremont, ifthe story is to be trusted, which concerned Blair. A long-standing, relentless quarrel separated these two. That Fremont as a candidate wasnobody had long been apparent; and yet it was worth while to get ridof him. Chandler, or another, extracted a promise from Fremont that ifBlair were removed, he would resign. On the strength of this promise, alast appeal was made to Lincoln. Such is the legend. The known fact isthat on September twenty-second Fremont withdrew his candidacy. The nextday Lincoln sent this note to Blair:

"You have generously said to me more than once that whenever yourresignation could be a relief to me, it was at my disposal. The time hascome. You very well know that this proceeds from no dissatisfaction ofmine, with you personally or officially. Your uniform kindness has beenunsurpassed by that of any friend. "(6)

No incident displays more clearly the hold which Lincoln had acquired onthe confidence and the affection of his immediate associates. Blair atonce tendered his resignation: "I can not take leave of you, " saidhe, "without renewing the expression of my gratitude for the uniformkindness which has marked your course with regard to myself. "(7) Thathe was not perfunctory, that his great chief had acquired over him anascendency which was superior to any strain, was demonstrated a few dayslater in New York. On the twenty-seventh, Cooper Institute was filledwith an enthusiastic Lincoln meeting. Blair was a speaker. He wasreceived with loud cheers and took occasion to touch upon his relationswith the President. "I retired, " said he, "on the recommendation of myown father. My father has passed that period of life when its honors orits rewards, or its glories have any charm for him. He looks backwardonly, and forward only, to the grandeur of this nation and the happinessof this great people who have grown up under the prosperous condition ofthe Union; and he would not permit a son of his to stand in the way ofthe glorious and patriotic President who leads us on to success and tothe final triumph that is in store for us. "(8)

It was characteristic of this ultimate Lincoln that he offered noexplanations, even in terminating the career of a minister; that hegave no confidences. Gently inexorable, he imposed his will inapparent unconsciousness that it might be questioned. Along with hisovermastering kindness, he had something of the objectivity of a naturalforce. It was the mood attained by a few extraordinary men who havereached a point where, without becoming egoists, they no longerdistinguish between themselves and circumstance; the mood of thosecreative artists who have lost themselves, in the strange way which thedreamers have, who have also found themselves. 

Even in the new fascination of the probable turn of the tide, Lincolndid not waver in his fixed purpose to give all his best energies, andthe country's best energies, to the war. In October, there was a newpanic over the draft. Cameron implored him to suspend it in Pennsylvaniauntil after the presidential election. An Ohio committee went toWashington with the same request. Why should not the arguments that hadprevailed with him, or were supposed to have prevailed with him, for theremoval of a minister, prevail also in the way of a brief flagging ofmilitary preparation? But Lincoln would not look upon the two cases inthe same spirit. "What is the Presidency worth to me, " he asked the Ohiocommittee, "if I have no country ?"(9)

From the active campaign he held himself aloof. He made no politicalspeeches. He wrote no political letters. The army received his constantdetailed attention. In his letters to Grant, he besought him to beunwavering in a relentless persistency. 

As Hay records, he was aging rapidly. The immense strain of his laborwas beginning to tell both in his features and his expression. He wasmoving in a shadow. But his old habit of merriment had not left him;though it was now, more often, a surface merriment. On the night of theOctober elections, Lincoln sat in the telegraph room of the WarOffice while the reports were coming in. "The President in a lull ofdespatches, took from his pocket the Naseby Papers and read severalchapters of the Saint and Martyr, Petroleum V. They were immenselyamusing. Stanton and Dana enjoyed them scarcely less than the President, who read on, con amore, until nine o'clock. "(10)

The presidential election was held on the eighth of November. Thatnight, Lincoln with his Secretary was again in the War Office. Theearly returns showed that the whole North was turning to him in enormousmajorities. He showed no exultation. When the Assistant Secretary ofthe Navy spoke sharply of the complete effacement politically of HenryWinter Davis against whom he had a grudge, Lincoln said, "You have moreof that feeling of personal resentment than I. Perhaps I have too littleof it; but I never thought it paid. A man has no time to spend half hislife in quarrels. If any man ceases to attack me I never remember thepast against him. "(11)

"Towards midnight, " says Hay in his diary, "we had supper. The Presidentwent awkwardly and hospitably to work shovelling out the fried oysters. He was most agreeable and genial all the evening. . . . Captain Thomascame up with a band about half-past two and made some music. ThePresident answered from a window with rather unusual dignity and effect, and we came home. "(12)

"I am thankful to God, " Lincoln said, in response to the serenade, "forthis approval of the people; but while grateful for this mark of theirconfidence in me, if I know my heart, my gratitude is free from anytaint of personal triumph. I do not impugn the motives of any oneopposed to me. It is no pleasure to me to triumph over any one, but Igive thanks to the Almighty for this evidence of the people's resolutionto stand by free government and the rights of humanity. "(13)

During the next few days a torrent of congratulations came pouringin. What most impressed the secretaries was his complete freedom fromelation. "He seemed to deprecate his own triumph and sympathize ratherwith the beaten than the victorious party. " His formal recognition ofthe event was a prepared reply to a serenade on the night of Novembertenth. A great crowd filled the space in front of the north portico ofthe White House. Lincoln appeared at a window. A secretary stood at hisside holding a lighted candle while he read from a manuscript. The briefaddress is justly ranked among his ablest occasional utterances. As tothe mode of the deliverance, he said to Hay, "Not very graceful, butI am growing old enough not to care much for the manner of doingthings. "(14)

XXXV. THE MASTER OF THE MOMENT

In Lincoln's life there are two great achievements. 

One he brought to pass in time for him to behold his own victory. Theother he saw only with the eyes of faith. The first was the drawingtogether of all the elements of nationalism in the American peopleand consolidating them into a driving force. The second was layingthe foundation of a political temper that made impossible a permanentvictory for the Vindictives. It was the sad fate of this nation, becauseLincoln's hand was struck from the tiller at the very instant of thecrisis, to suffer the temporary success of that faction he strove sohard to destroy. The transitoriness of their evil triumph, the eventualrally of the nation against them, was the final victory of the spirit ofLincoln. 

The immediate victory he appreciated more fully and measured moreexactly, than did any one else. He put it into words in the fifthmessage. While others were crowing with exaltation over a party triumph, he looked deeper to the psychological triumph. Scarcely another saw thatthe most significant detail of the hour was in the Democratic attitude. Even the bitterest enemies of nationalism, even those who were believedby all others to desire the breaking of the Union, had not thoughtit safe to say so. They had veiled their intent in specious words. McClellan in accepting the Democratic nomination had repudiated the ideaof disunion. Whether the Democratic politicians had agreed with him ornot, they had not dared to contradict him. This was what Lincoln put theemphasis on in his message: "The purpose of the people within theloyal States to maintain the Union was never more firm nor more nearlyunanimous than now. . . . No candidate for any office, high or low, has ventured to seek votes on the avowal that he was for giving upthe Union. There have been much impugning of motive and much heatedcontroversy as to the proper means and best mode of advancing the Unioncause; but on the distinct issue of Union or No Union the politicianshave shown their instinctive knowledge that there is no diversity amongthe people. In affording the people the fair opportunity of showing oneto another and to the world, this firmness and unanimity of purpose, theelection has been of vast value to the national cause. "(1)

This temper of the final Lincoln, his supreme detachment, the kindimpersonality of his intellectual approach, has no better illustrationin his state papers. He further revealed it in a more intimate way. Theday he sent the message to Congress, he also submitted to the Senate anomination to the great office of Chief Justice. When Taney died in theprevious September, there was an eager stir among the friends of Chase. They had hopes but they felt embarrassed. Could they ask this greathonor, the highest it is in the power of the American President tobe-stow, for a man who had been so lacking in candor as Chase had been?Chase's course during the summer had made things worse. He had playedthe time-server. No one was more severe upon Lincoln in July; in August, he hesitated, would not quite commit himself to the conspiracy but wouldnot discourage it; almost gave it his blessing; in September, but notuntil it was quite plain that the conspiracy was failing, he cameout for Lincoln. However, his friends in the Senate overcame theirembarrassment--how else could it be with Senators?--and pressed hiscase. And when Senator Wilson, alarmed at the President's silence, triedto apologize for Chase's harsh remarks about the President, Lincoln cuthim short. "Oh, as to that, I care nothing, " said he. The embarrassmentof the Chase propaganda amused him. When Chase himself took a hand andwrote him a letter, Lincoln said to his secretary, "What is it about?""Simply a kind and friendly letter, " replied the secretary. Lincolnsmiled. "File it with the other recommendations, " said he. (2)

He regarded Chase as a great lawyer, Taney's logical successor. Allthe slights the Secretary had put upon the President, the intrigues tosupplant him, the malicious sayings, were as if they had never occurred. When Congress assembled, it was Chase's name that he sent to the Senate. It was Chase who, as Chief Justice, administered the oath at Lincoln'ssecond inauguration. 

Long since, Lincoln had seen that there had ceased to any half-wayhouse in the matter of emancipation. His thoughts were chiefly upon thefuture. And as mere strategy, he saw that slavery had to be got out ofthe way. It was no longer a question, who liked this, who did not. Tohim, the ultimate issue was the restoration of harmony among the States. Those States which had been defeated in the dread arbitrament of battle, would in any event encounter difficulties, even deadly perils, in thenarrow way which must come after defeat and which might or might notlead to rehabilitation. 

Remembering the Vindictive temper, remembering the force and courageof the Vindictive leaders, it was imperative to clear the field of theslavery issue before the reconstruction issue was fairly launched. Itwas highly desirable to commit to the support of the governments thewhole range of influences that were in earnest about emancipation. Furthermore, the South itself was drifting in the same direction. In hisinterview with Gilmore and Jaquess, Davis had said: "You have alreadyemancipated nearly two millions of our slaves; and if you will take careof them, you may emancipate the rest. I had a few when the war began. Iwas of some use to them; they never were of any to me. "(3)

The Southern President had "felt" his constituency on the subject ofenrolling slaves as soldiers with a promise of emancipation as thereward of military service. 

The fifth message urged Congress to submit to the States an amendment tothe Constitution abolishing slavery. Such action had been consideredin the previous session, but nothing had been done. At Lincoln'ssuggestion, it had been recommended in the platform of the Unionparty. Now, with the President's powerful influence behind it, withhis prestige at full circle, the amendment was rapidly pushed forward. Before January ended, it had been approved by both Houses. Lincoln hadused all his personal influence to strengthen its chances in Congresswhere, until the last minute, the vote was still in doubt. (4)

While the amendment was taking its way through Congress, a shrewd oldpolitician who thought he knew the world better than most men, thatMontgomery Blair, Senior, who was father of the Postmaster General, had been trying on his own responsibility to open negotiations betweenWashington and Richmond. His visionary ideas, which were wholly withoutthe results he intended, have no place here. And yet this fancifulepisode had a significance of its own. Had it not occurred, theConfederate government probably would not have appointed commissionerscharged with the hopeless task of approaching the Federal government forthe purpose of negotiating peace between "the two countries. "

Now that Lincoln was entirely in the ascendent at home, and since theConfederate arms had recently suffered terrible reverses, he wasno longer afraid that negotiation might appear to be the symptomof weakness. He went so far as to consent to meet the Commissionershimself. On a steamer in Hampton Roads, Lincoln and Seward had along conference with three members of the Confederate government, particularly the Vice-President, Alexander H. Stephens. 

It has become a tradition that Lincoln wrote at the top of a sheet ofpaper the one word "Union"; that he pushed it across the table and said, "Stephens, write under that anything you want" There appears to be nofoundation for the tale in this form. The amendment had committed theNorth too definitely to emancipation. Lincoln could not have proposedUnion without requiring emancipation, also. And yet, with thislimitation, the spirit of the tradition is historic. There can be nodoubt that he presented to the commissioners about the terms which theyear before he had drawn up as a memorandum for Gilmore and Jaquess:Union, the acceptance of emancipation, but also instantaneousrestoration of political autonomy to the Southern States, and all theinfluence of the Administration in behalf of liberal compensation forthe loss of slave property. But the commissioners had no authority toconsider terms that did not recognize the existence of "two countries. "However, this Hampton Roads Conference gave Lincoln a new hope. Hedivined, if he did not perceive, that the Confederates were on the vergeof despair. If he had been a Vindictive, this would have borne fruitin ferocious telegrams to his generals to strike and spare not. WhatLincoln did was to lay before the Cabinet this proposal:--that theyadvise Congress to offer the Confederate government the sum of fourhundred million dollars, provided the war end and the States insecession acknowledge the authority of the Federal government previousto April 1, 1865. But the Cabinet, complete as was his domination insome respects, were not ripe for such a move as this. "'You are allagainst me, ' said Lincoln sadly and in evident surprise at the want ofstatesmanlike liberality on the part of the executive council, " toquote his Secretary, "folded and laid away the draft of his message. "(5)Nicolay believes that the idea continued vividly in his mind and that itmay be linked with his last public utterance--"it may be my duty to makesome new announcement to the people of the South. I am considering andshall not fail to act when satisfied that action is proper. "

It was now obvious to every one outside the Confederacy that the warwould end speedily in a Northern victory. To Lincoln, therefore, theduty of the moment, overshadowing all else, was the preparation forwhat should come after. Reconstruction. More than ever it was of firstimportance to decide whether the President or Congress should deal withthis great matter. And now occurred an event which bore witness at onceto the beginning of Lincoln's final struggle with the Vindictives and tothat personal ascendency which was steadily widening. One of those threeoriginal Jacobins agreed to become his spokesman in the Senate. As thethird person of the Jacobin brotherhood, Lyman Trumbull had always beenout of place. He had gone wrong not from perversity of the soul but froma mental failing, from the lack of inherent light, from intellectualconventionality. But he was a good man. One might apply to him Mrs. Browning's line: "Just a good man made a great man. " And in his case, asin so many others, sheer goodness had not been sufficient in the midstof a revolution to save his soul. To quote one of the greatest of theobservers of human life: "More brains, O Lord, more brains. " ThoughTrumbull had the making of an Intellectual, politics had very nearlyruined him. For all his good intentions it took him a long time tosee what Hawthorne saw at first sight-that Lincoln was both a powerfulcharacter and an original mind. Still, because Trumbull was really agood man, he found a way to recover his soul. What his insight was notequal to perceiving in 1861, experience slowly made plain to him inthe course of the next three years. Before 1865 he had broken withthe Vindictives; he had come over to Lincoln. Trumbull still held thepowerful office of Chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee. He nowundertook to be the President's captain in a battle on the floor of theSenate for the recognition of Louisiana. 

The new government in Louisiana had been in actual operation for nearlya year. Though Congress had denounced it; though the Manifesto had heldit up to scorn as a monarchial outrage; Lincoln had quietly, steadily, protected and supported it. It was discharging the function of a regularState government. A governor had been elected and inaugurated-thatGovernor Hahn whom Lincoln had congratulated as Louisiana's first FreeState Governor. He could say this because the new electorate which hismandate had created had assembled a constitutional convention and hadabolished slavery. And it had also carried out the President's viewswith regard to the political status of freedmen. Lincoln was not abeliever in general negro suffrage. He was as far as ever from thetheorizing of the Abolitionists. The most he would approve was thebestowal of suffrage on a few Superior negroes, leaving the rest tobe gradually educated into citizenship. The Louisiana Convention hadauthorized the State Legislature to make, when it felt prepared to doso, such a limited extension of suffrage. (6)

In setting up this new government, Lincoln had created a politicalvessel in which practically all the old electorate of Louisiana couldfind their places the moment they gave up the war and accepted the tworequisites, union and emancipation. That electorate could proceed atonce to rebuild the social-political order of the State without anyinterval of "expiation. " All the power of the Administration wouldbe with them in their labors. That this was the wise as well as thegenerous way to proceed, the best minds of the North had come to see. Witness the conversion of Trumbull. But there were four groups offanatics who were dangerous: extreme Abolitionists who clamored fornegro equality; men like Wade and Chandler, still mad with the lust ofconquest, raging at the President who had stood so resolutely betweenthem and their desire; the machine politicians who could neverunderstand the President's methods, who regarded him as an officiousamateur; and the Little Men who would have tried to make politicalcapital of the blowing of the last trump. All these, each for a separatemotive, attacked the President because of Louisiana. 

The new government had chosen Senators. Here was a specific issue overwhich the Administration and its multiform opposition might engage in atrial of strength. The Senate had it in its power to refuse to seat theLouisiana Senators. Could the Vindictive leaders induce it to go tothat length? The question took its natural course of reference to theJudiciary Committee. On the eighteenth of February, Trumbull opened whatwas destined to be a terrible chapter in American history, the strugglebetween light and darkness over reconstruction. Trumbull had rangedbehind Lincoln the majority of his committee. With its authority hemoved a joint resolution recognizing the new government of Louisiana. 

And then began a battle royal. Trumbull's old associates were promptlyjoined by Sumner. These three rallied against the resolution all themalignancy, all the time-serving, all the stupidity, which the Senatepossessed. Bitter language was exchanged by men who had formerly been asthick as thieves. 

"You and I, " thundered Wade, "did not differ formerly on this subjectWe considered it a mockery, a miserable mockery, to recognize thisLouisiana organization as a State in the Union. " He sneered fiercely, "Whence comes this new-born zeal of the Senator from Illinois? . . . Sir, it is the most miraculous conversion that has taken place sinceSaint Paul's time. "(7)

Wade did not spare the President. Metaphorically speaking, he shook afist in his face, the fist of a merciless old giant "When the foundationof this government is sought to be swept away by executive usurpation, it will not do to turn around to me and say this comes from a PresidentI helped to elect. . . . If the President of the United States operatingthrough his major generals can initiate a State government, and canbring it here and force us, compel us, to receive on this floor thesemere mockeries, these men of straw who represent nobody, your Republicis at an end . . . Talk not to me of your ten per cent. Principle. Amore absurd, monarchial and anti-American principle was never announcedon God's earth. "(8)

Amidst a rain of furious personalities, Lincoln's spokesman kept hispoise. It was sorely tried by two things: by Sumner's frank use ofevery device of parliamentary obstruction with a view to wearing out thepatience of the Senate, and by the cynical alliance, in order to balkLincoln, of the Vindictives with the Democrats. What they would not riskin 1862 when their principles had to wait upon party needs, they nowconsidered safe strategy. And if ever the Little Men deservedtheir label it was when they played into the hands of the terribleVindictives, thus becoming responsible for the rejection of Lincoln'splan of reconstruction. Trumbull upbraided Sumner for "associatinghimself with those whom he so often denounced, for the purpose ofcalling the yeas and nays and making dilatory motions" to postponeaction until the press of other business should compel the Senate to setthe resolution aside. Sumner's answer was that he would employagainst the measure every instrument he could find "in the arsenal ofparliamentary warfare. "

With the aid of the Democrats, the Vindictives carried the day. Theresolution was "dispensed with. "(9)

As events turned out it was a catastrophe. But this was not apparent atthe time. Though Lincoln had been beaten for the moment, the oppositionwas made up of so many and such irreconcilable elements that as long ashe could hold together his own following, there was no reason to supposehe would not in the long run prevail. He was never in a firmer, moreself-contained mood than on the last night of the session. (10) Again, as on that memorable fourth of July, eight months before, he was in hisroom at the Capitol signing the last-minute bills. Stanton was withhim. On receiving a telegram from Grant, the Secretary handed it tothe President Grant reported that Lee had proposed a conference forthe purpose of "a satisfactory adjustment of the present unhappydifficulties by means of a military convention. " Without asking for theSecretary's opinion, Lincoln wrote out a reply which he directed him tosign and despatch immediately. "The President directs me to say that hewishes you to have no conference with General Lee, unless it be for thecapitulation of General Lee's army, or on some minor or purely militarymatter. He instructs me to say that you are not to decide, discuss, orconfer upon any political questions, such questions the President holdsin his own hands and will submit them to no military conferences orconventions. Meanwhile, you are to press to the utmost your militaryadvantages. "(11)

In the second inaugural (12) delivered the next day, there is not thefaintest shadow of anxiety. It breathes a lofty confidence as if hissoul was gazing meditatively downward upon life, and upon his own work, from a secure height. The world has shown a sound instinct in fixingupon one expression, "with malice toward none, with charity for all, " asthe key-note of the final Lincoln. These words form the opening lineof that paragraph of unsurpassable prose in which the second inauguralculminates:

"With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in theright as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish thework we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him whoshall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan, to do allwhich may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations. "

XXXVI. PREPARING A DIFFERENT WAR

During the five weeks which remained to Lincoln on earth, the army washis most obvious concern. He watched eagerly the closing of the enormoustrap that had been slowly built up surrounding Lee. Toward the end ofMarch he went to the front, and for two weeks had his quarters on asteamer at City Point. It was during Lincoln's visit that Sherman cameup from North Carolina for his flying conference with Grant, in whichthe President took part. Lincoln was at City Point when Petersburg fell. Early on the morning of April third, he joined Grant who gives a strangeglimpse in his Memoirs of their meeting in the deserted city which sorecently had been the last bulwark of the Confederacy. (1) The same day, Richmond fell. Lincoln had returned to City Point, and on the followingday when confusion reigned in the burning city, he walked through itsstreets attended only by a few sailors and by four friends. He visitedLibby Prison; and when a member of his party said that Davis ought tobe hanged, Lincoln replied, "Judge not that ye be not judged. "(2) Hisdeepest thoughts, however, were not with the army. The time was at handwhen his statesmanship was to be put to its most severe test. He hadnot forgotten the anxious lesson of that success of the Vindictivesin balking momentarily the recognition of Louisiana. It was war to theknife between him and them. Could he reconstruct the Union in a wise andmerciful fashion despite their desperate opposition?

He had some strong cards in his hand. First of all, he had time. Congress was not in session. He had eight months in which to pressforward his own plans. If, when Congress assembled the followingDecember, it should be confronted by a group of reconciled SouthernStates, would it venture to refuse them recognition? No one could haveany illusions as to what the Vindictives would try to do. They wouldcontinue the struggle they had begun over Louisiana; and if their powerpermitted, they would rouse the nation to join battle with the Presidenton that old issue of the war powers, of the dictatorship. 

But in Lincoln's hand there were four other cards, all of which Wadeand Chandler would find it hard to match. He had the army. In the lastelection the army had voted for him enthusiastically. And the army wasfree from the spirit of revenge, the Spirit which Chandler built upon. They had the plain people, the great mass whom the machine politicianshad failed to judge correctly in the August Conspiracy. Prettygenerally, he had the Intellectuals. Lastly, he had--or with skilfulgeneralship he could have--the Abolitionists. 

The Thirteenth Amendment was not yet adopted. The question had beenraised, did it require three-fourths of all the States for its adoption, or only three-fourths of those that were ranked as not in rebellion. Here was the issue by means of which the Abolitionists might all bebrought into line. It was by no means certain that every Northern Statewould vote for the amendment. In the smaller group of States, there wasa chance that the amendment might fail. But if it were submitted to thelarger group; and if every Reconstructed State, before Congress met, should adopt the amendment; and if it was apparent that with theseSouthern adoptions the amendment must prevail, all the great power ofthe anti-slavery sentiment would be thrown on the side of the Presidentin favor of recognizing the new State governments and against theVindictives. Lincoln held a hand of trumps. Confidently, but not rashly, he looked forward to his peaceful war with the Vindictives. 

They were enemies not to be despised. To begin with, they wereexperienced machine politicians; they had control of well-organizedpolitical rings. They were past masters of the art of working up popularanimosities. And they were going to use this art in that dangerousmoment of reaction which invariably follows the heroic tension of agreat war. The alignment in the Senate revealed by the Louisiana battlehad also a significance. The fact that Sumner, who was not quite one ofthem, became their general on that occasion, was something to remember. They had made or thought they had made other powerful allies. The VicePresident, Andrew Johnson-the new president of the Senate-appeared atthis time to be cheek by jowl with the fiercest Vindictives of them all. It would be interesting to know when the thought first occurred to them:"If anything should happen to Lincoln, his successor would be one ofus!"

The ninth of April arrived and the news of Lee's surrender. 

"The popular excitement over the victory was such that on Monday, thetenth, crowds gathered before the Executive Mansion several times duringthe day and called out the President for speeches. Twice he respondedby coming to the window and saying a few words which, however, indicatedthat his mind was more occupied with work than with exuberant rejoicing. As briefly as he could he excused himself, but promised that on thefollowing evening for which a formal demonstration was being arranged, he would be prepared to say something. "(3)

The paper which he read to the crowd that thronged the grounds ofthe White House on the night of April eleventh, was his last publicutterance. It was also one of his most remarkable ones. In a way, itwas his declaration of war against the Vindictives. (4) It is the finalstatement of a policy toward helpless opponents--he refused to call themenemies--which among the conquerors of history is hardly, if at all, tobe paralleled. (5)

"By these recent successes the reinauguration of the nationalauthority--reconstruction--which has had a large share of thought from thefirst, is pressed more closely upon our attention. It is fraught withgreat difficulty. Unlike a case of war between independent nations, there is no authorized organ for us to treat with-no one man hasauthority to give up the rebellion for any other man. We simply mustbegin with, and mould from, disorganized and discordant elements. Noris it a small additional embarrassment that we, the loyal people, differamong ourselves as to the mode, manner and measure of reconstruction. As a general rule, I abstain from reading the reports of attacks uponmyself, wishing not to be provoked by that to which I can not properlyoffer an answer. In spite of this precaution, however, it comes to myknowledge that I am much censured for some supposed agency in setting upand seeking to sustain the new State government of Louisiana. "

He reviewed in full the history of the Louisiana experiment From that hepassed to the theories put forth by some of his enemies with regard tothe constitutional status of the Seceded States. His own theory thatthe States never had been out of the Union because constitutionallythey could not go out, that their governmental functions had merely beentemporarily interrupted; this theory had always been roundly derided bythe Vindictives and even by a few who were not Vindictives. Sumner hadpreached the idea that the Southern States by attempting to secede hadcommitted "State suicide" and should now be treated as Territories. Stevens and the Vindictives generally, while avoiding Sumner's subtlety, called them "conquered provinces. " And all these wanted to take themfrom under the protection of the President and place them helpless atthe feet of Congress. To prevent this is the purpose that shines betweenthe lines in the latter part of Lincoln's valedictory:

"We all agree that the Seceded States, so called, are out of theirproper practical relation with the Union, and that the sole object ofthe government, civil and military, in regard to those States, is toagain get them into that proper practical relation. I believe that itis not only possible, but in fact easier, to do this without deciding oreven considering whether these States have ever been out of the Union, than with it Finding themselves safely at home, it would be utterlyimmaterial whether they had ever been abroad. Let us all join in doingthe acts necessary to restoring the proper practical relations betweenthese States and the Union, and each forever after innocently indulgehis own opinion whether in doing the acts he brought the States fromwithout into the Union, or only gave them proper assistance, they neverhaving been out of it. The amount of constituency, so to speak, on whichthe new Louisiana government rests would be more satisfactory to allif it contained 50, 000 or 30, 000, or even 20, 000 instead of only about12, 000, as it does. It is also unsatisfactory to some that the electivefranchise is not given to the colored man. I would myself prefer that itwere now conferred on the very intelligent, and on those who served ourcause as soldiers. 

"Still, the question is not whether the Louisiana government, as itstands, is quite all that is desirable. The question is, will it bewiser to take it as it is and help to improve it, or to reject anddisperse it? Can Louisiana be brought into proper practical relationwith the Union sooner by sustaining or by discarding her new Stategovernment? Some twelve thousand voters in the heretofore slave State ofLouisiana have sworn allegiance to the Union, assumed to be therightful political power of the State, held elections, organized a Stategovernment, adopted a free State constitution, giving the benefit ofpublic schools equally to black and white and empowering the Legislatureto confer the elective franchise upon the colored man. Their Legislaturehas already voted to ratify the constitutional amendment recently passedby Congress abolishing slavery throughout the nation. These 12, 000persons are thus fully committed to the Union and to perpetual freedomin the State--committed to the very things, and nearly all the things, the nation wants--and they ask the nation's recognition and itsassistance to make good their committal. 

"Now, if we reject and spurn them, we do our utmost to disorganize anddisperse them. We, in effect, say to the white man: You are worthless orworse; we will neither help you nor be helped by you. To the blacks wesay: This cup of liberty which these, your old masters, hold to yourlips we will dash from you and leave you to the chances of gathering thespilled and scattered contents in some vague and undefined when, whereand how. If this course, discouraging and paralyzing both white andblack, has any tendency to bring Louisiana into proper practicalrelations with the Union, I have so far been unable to perceive it. If, on the contrary, we recognize and sustain the new government ofLouisiana, the converse of all this is made true. We encourage thehearts and nerve the arms of 12, 000 to adhere to their work, and arguefor it, and proselyte for it, and fight for it, and feed it, and growit, and ripen it to a complete success. The colored man, too, in seeingall united for him, is inspired with vigilance and energy, and daring, to the same end. Grant that he desires the elective franchise, will henot attain it sooner by saving the already advanced steps toward itthan by running backward over them? Concede that the new government ofLouisiana is only to what it should be as the egg is to the fowl, weshall sooner have the fowl by hatching the egg than by smashing it. 

"Again, if we reject Louisiana, we also reject one vote in favor ofthe proposed amendment to the national Constitution. To meet thisproposition it has been argued that no more than three-fourths of thoseStates which have not attempted secession are necessary to validlyratify the amendment I do not commit myself against this further thanto say that such a ratification would be questionable, and sure to bepersistently questioned, while a ratification by three-fourths ofall the States would be unquestioned and unquestionable. I repeat thequestion: Can Louisiana be brought into proper practical relationwith the Union sooner by sustaining or by discarding her new Stategovernment? What has been said of Louisiana will apply generally toother States. And yet so great peculiarities pertain to each State, andsuch important and sudden changes occur in the same State, and with alsonew and unprecedented is the whole case that no exclusive and inflexibleplan can safely be prescribed as to details and collaterals. Suchexclusive and inflexible plan would surely become a new entanglement. Important principles may and must be inflexible. In the presentsituation, as the phrase goes, it may be my duty to make some newannouncement to the people of the South. I am considering and shall notfail to act when satisfied that action will be proper. "

XXXVII. FATE INTERPOSES

There was an early spring on the Potomac in 1865. While April was stillyoung, the Judas trees became spheres of purply, pinkish bloom. TheWashington parks grew softly bright as the lilacs opened. Pendulouswillows veiled with green laces afloat in air the changing brown thatwas winter's final shadow; in the Virginia woods the white blossomsof the dogwood seemed to float and flicker among the windy trees likeenormous flocks of alighting butterflies. And over head such a glitterof turquoise blue! As lovely in a different way as on that fatefulSun-day morning when Russell drove through the same woods toward BullRun so long, long ago. Such was the background of the last few days ofLincoln's life. 

Though tranquil, his thoughts dwelt much on death. While at City Point, he drove one day with Mrs. Lincoln along the banks of the James. Theypassed a country graveyard. "It was a retired place, " said Mrs. Lincolnlong afterward, "shaded by trees, and early spring flowers were openingon nearly every grave. It was so quiet and attractive that we stoppedthe carriage and walked through it. Mr. Lincoln seemed thoughtful andimpressed. He said: 'Mary, you are younger than I; you will survive me. When I am gone, lay my remains in some quiet place like this. '"(1)

His mood underwent a mysterious change. It was serene and yet chargedwith a peculiar grave loftiness not quite like any phase of him hisfriends had known hitherto. As always, his thoughts turned for theirreflection to Shakespeare. Sumner who was one of the party at CityPoint, was deeply impressed by his reading aloud, a few days before hisdeath, that passage in Macbeth which describes the ultimate security ofDuncan where nothing evil "can touch him farther. "(2)

There was something a little startling, as if it were not quite of thisworld, in the tender lightness that seemed to come into his heart. "Hiswhole appearance, poise and bearing, " says one of his observers, "hadmarvelously changed. He was, in fact, transfigured. That indescribablesadness which had previously seemed to be an adamantine element ofhis very being, had been suddenly changed for an equally indescribableexpression of serene joy, as if conscious that the great purpose of hislife had been achieved. "(3)

It was as if the seer in the trance had finally passed beyond histrance; and had faced smiling toward his earthly comrades, imagining hewas to return to them; unaware that somehow his emergence was not in theordinary course of nature; that in it was an accent of the inexplicable, something which the others caught and at which they trembled; thoughthey knew not why. And he, so beautifully at peace, and yet thrilled asnever before by the vision of the murdered Duncan at the end of life'sfitful fever--what was his real feeling, his real vision of himself?Was it something of what the great modern poet strove so bravely toexpress--

 "And yet Dauntless the slughorn to my lips I set, And blew: Childe Roland to the dark tower came. "

Shortly before the end, he had a strange dream. Though he spoke of italmost with levity, it would not leave his thoughts. He dreamed hewas wandering through the White House at night; all the rooms werebrilliantly lighted; but they were empty. However, through that unrealsolitude floated a sound of weeping. When he came to the East Room, itwas explained; there was a catafalque, the pomp of a military funeral, crowds of people in tears; and a voice said to him, "The President hasbeen assassinated. "

He told this dream to Lamon and to Mrs. Lincoln. He added that afterit had occurred, "the first time I opened the Bible, strange as it mayappear, it was at the twenty-eighth chapter of Genesis which relatesthe wonderful dream Jacob had. I turned to other passages and seemed toencounter a dream or a vision wherever I looked. I kept on turningthe leaves of the Old Book, and everywhere my eye fell uponpassages recording matters strangely in keeping with my ownthoughts--supernatural visitations, dreams, visions, etc. "

But when Lamon seized upon this as text for his recurrent sermon onprecautions against assassination, Lincoln turned the matter into ajoke. He did not appear to interpret the dream as foreshadowing his owndeath. He called Lamon's alarm "downright foolishness. "(4)

Another dream in the last night of his life was a consolation. Henarrated it to the Cabinet when they met on April fourteenth, whichhappened to be Good Friday. There was some anxiety with regard toSherman's movements in North Carolina. Lincoln bade the Cabinet settheir minds at rest. His dream of the night before was one that hehad often had. It was a presage of great events. In this dream he sawhimself "in a singular and indescribable vessel, but always the same. . . Moving with great rapidity toward a dark and indefinite shore. " Thisdream had preceded all the great events of the war. He believed it was agood omen. (5)

At this last Cabinet meeting, he talked freely of the one matter whichin his mind overshadowed all others. He urged his Ministers to putaside all thoughts of hatred and revenge. "He hoped there would be nopersecution, no bloody work, after the war was over. None need expecthim to take any part in hanging or killing these men, even the worst ofthem. 'Frighten them out of the country, let down the bars, scare themoff, ' said he, throwing up his hands as if scaring sheep. Enough liveshave been sacrificed. We must extinguish our resentment if we expectharmony and union. There was too much desire on the part of our verygood friends to be masters, to interfere and dictate to those States, to treat the people not as fellow citizens; there was too little respectfor their rights. He didn't sympathize in these feelings. "(6)

There was a touch of irony in his phase "our very good friends. " Beforethe end of the next day, the men he had in mind, the inner group ofthe relentless Vindictives, were to meet in council, scarcely able toconceal their inspiring conviction that Providence had intervened, hadjudged between him and them. (7) And that allusion to the "rights" of thevanquished! How abominable it was in the ears of the grim Chandler, theinexorable Wade. Desperate these men and their followers were on thefourteenth of April, but defiant. To the full measure of their powerthey would fight the President to the last ditch. And always in theirminds, the tormenting thought-if only positions could be reversed, ifonly Johnson, whom they believed to be one of them at heart, were in thefirst instead of the second place!

While these unsparing sons of thunder were growling among themselves, the lions that were being cheated of their prey, Lincoln was putting hismerciful temper into a playful form. General Creswell applied to him forpardon for an old friend of his who had joined the Confederate Army. 

"Creswell, " said Lincoln, "you make me think of a lot of young folks whoonce started out Maying. To reach their destination, they had to crossa shallow stream and did so by means of an old flat boat when thetime came to return, they found to their dismay that the old scow haddisappeared. They were in sore trouble and thought over all manner ofdevices for getting over the water, but without avail. After a time, oneof the boys proposed that each fellow should pick up the girl he likedbest and wade over with her. The masterly proposition was carried outuntil all that were left upon the island was a little short chap and agreat, long, gothic-built, elderly lady. Now, Creswell, you are tryingto leave me in the same predicament. You fellows are all getting yourown friends out of this scrape, and you will succeed in carrying off oneafter another until nobody but Jeff Davis and myself will be left on theisland, and then I won't know what to do--How should I feel? How shouldI look lugging him over? I guess the way to avoid such an embarrassingsituation is to let all out at once. "(8)

The President refused, this day, to open his doors to the throng ofvisitors that sought admission. His eldest son, Robert, an officer inGrant's army, had returned from the front unharmed. Lincoln wished toreserve the day for his family and intimate friends. In the afternoon, Mrs. Lincoln asked him if he cared to have company on their usual drive. "No, Mary, " said he, "I prefer that we ride by ourselves to-day. "(9)They took a long drive. His mood, as it had been all day, was singularlyhappy and tender. (10) He talked much of the past and the future. Itseemed to Mrs. Lincoln that he never had appeared happier than duringthe drive. He referred to past sorrows, to the anxieties of the war, toWillie's death, and spoke of the necessity to be cheerful and happy inthe days to come. As Mrs. Lincoln remembered his words: "We have hada hard time since we came to Washington; but the war is over, and withGod's blessings, we may hope for four years of peace and happiness, and then we will go back to Illinois and pass the rest of our lives inquiet. We have laid by some money, and during this time, we will saveup more, but shall not have enough to support us. We will go backto Illinois; I will open a law office at Springfield or Chicago andpractise law, and at least do enough to help give us a livelihood. "(11)

They returned from their drive and prepared for a theatre party whichhad been fixed for that night. The management of the Ford's Theatre, where Laura Keene was to close her season with a benefit performanceof Our American Cousin, had announced in the afternoon paper that "thePresident and his lady" would attend. The President's box had beendraped with flags. The rest is a twice told tale--a thousandth toldtale. 

An actor, very handsome, a Byronic sort, both in beauty and temperament, with a dash perhaps of insanity, John Wilkes Booth, had long meditatedkilling the President. A violent secessionist, his morbid imaginationhad made of Lincoln another Caesar. The occasion called for a Brutus. While Lincoln was planning his peaceful war with the Vindictives, scheming how to keep them from grinding the prostrate South beneaththeir heels, devising modes of restoring happiness to the conqueredregion, Booth, at an obscure boarding-house in Washington, was gatheringabout him a band of adventurers, some of whom at least, like himself, were unbalanced. They meditated a general assassination of the Cabinet. The unexpected theatre party on the fourteenth gave Booth a suddenopportunity. He knew every passage of Ford's Theatre. He knew, also, that Lincoln seldom surrounded himself with guards. During theafternoon, he made his way unobserved into the theatre and bored a holein the door of the presidential box, so that he might fire through itshould there be any difficulty in getting the door open. 

About ten o'clock that night, the audience was laughing at the absurdplay; the President's party were as much amused as any. Suddenly, therewas a pistol shot. A moment more and a woman's voice rang out in a sharpcry. An instant sense of disaster brought the audience startled totheir feet. Two men were glimpsed struggling toward the front of thePresident's box. One broke away, leaped down on to the stage, flourisheda knife and shouted, "Sic semper tyrannis!" Then he vanished through theflies. It was Booth, whose plans had been completely successful. He hadmade his way without interruption to within a few feet of Lincoln. Atpoint-blank distance, he had shot him from behind, through the head. Inthe confusion which ensued, he escaped from the theatre; fled from thecity; was pursued; and was himself shot and killed a few days later. 

The bullet of the assassin had entered the brain, causing instantunconsciousness. The dying President was removed to a house on TenthStreet, No. 453, where he was laid on a bed in a small room at the rearof the hall on the ground floor. (12)

Swift panic took possession of the city. "A crowd of people rushedinstinctively to the White House, and bursting through the doors, shouted the dreadful news to Robert Lincoln and Major Hay who satgossiping in an upper room. . . . They ran down-stairs. Finding acarriage at the door, they entered it and drove to Tenth Street. "(13)

To right and left eddied whirls of excited figures, men and womenquestioning, threatening, crying out for vengeance. Overhead amiddriving clouds, the moon, through successive mantlings of darkness, broke periodically into sudden blazes of light; among the startledpeople below, raced a witches' dance of the rapidly changingshadows. (14)

Lincoln did not regain consciousness. About dawn his pulse began tofail. A little later, "a look of unspeakable peace came over his wornfeatures"(15), and at twenty-two minutes after seven on the morning ofthe fifteenth of April, he died. 

THE END

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NOTES

I. THE CHILD OF THE FOREST. 

1. Herndon, 1-7, 11-14; 1, anon, 13; N. And H. , 1, 23-27. This is theversion of his origin accepted by Lincoln. He believed that his motherwas the illegitimate daughter of a Virginia planter and traced to thatdoubtful source "all the qualities that distinguished him from othermembers" of his immediate family. Herndon, 3. His secretaries are silentupon the subject. Recently the story has been challenged. Mrs. CarolineHanks Hitchcock, who identifies the Hanks family of Kentucky with a lostbranch of a New England family, has collected evidence which tendsto show that Nancy was the legitimate daughter of a certain Joseph H. Hanks, who was father of Joseph the carpenter, and that Nancy was notthe niece but the younger sister of the "uncle" who figures in theolder version, the man with whom Thomas Lincoln worked. Nancy and Thomasappear to have been cousins through their mothers. Mrs. Hitchcock arguesthe case with care and ability in a little book entitled Nancy Hanks. However, she is not altogether sustained by W. E. Barton, The Paternityof Abraham Lincoln. 

Scandal has busied itself with the parents of Lincoln in another way. Ithas been widely asserted that he was himself illegitimate. A variety ofshameful paternities have been assigned to him, some palpably absurd. The chief argument of the lovers of this scandal was once the lack ofa known record of the marriage of his parents. Around this fact grewup the story of a marriage of concealment with Thomas Lincoln as theeasy-going accomplice. The discovery of the marriage record fixing thedate and demonstrating that Abraham must have been the second child gavethis scandal its quietus. N. And H. , 1, 23-24; Hanks, 59-67; Herndon, 5-6; Lincoln and Herndon, 321. The last important book on the subject isBarton, The Paternity of Abraham Lincoln. 

2. N. And H. , 1-13. 

3. Lamon, 13; N. And H. , 1, 25. 

4. N. And H. , 1, 25. 

5. Gore, 221-225. 

6. Herndon, 15. 

7. Gore, 66, 70-74, 79, 83-84, 116, 151-154, 204, 226-230, for all thisgroup of anecdotes. 

The evidence with regard to all the early part of Lincoln's life ispeculiar in this, that it is reminiscence not written down until thesubject had become famous. Dogmatic certainty with regard to thedetails is scarcely possible. The best one can do in weighing any of theversions of his early days is to inquire closely as to whether all itsparts bang naturally together, whether they really cohere. There is abody of anecdotes told by an old mountaineer, Austin Gollaher, who knewLincoln as a boy, and these have been collected and recently put intoprint. Of course, they are not "documented" evidence. Some students arefor brushing them aside. But there is one important argument in theirfavor. They are coherent; the boy they describe is a real person and hispersonality is sustained. If he is a fiction and not a memory, the oldmountaineer was a literary artist--far more the artist than one finds iteasy to believe. 

8. Gore, 84-95; Lamon, 16; Herndon, 16. 

9. Gore, 181-182, 296, 303-316; Lamon, 19-20; N. And H. , I, 28-29. 

II. THE MYSTERIOUS YOUTH. 

1. N. And H. , I, 32-34. 

2. Lamon, 33-38, 51-52, 61-63; N. And H. , 1, 34-36. 

3. N. And H. , 1, 40. 

4. Lamon, 38, 40, 55. 

5. Reminiscences, 54, 428. 

III. A VILLAGE LEADER. 

1. N. And H. , 1, 45-46, 70-72; Herndon, 67, 69, 72. 

2. Lamon, 81-82; Herndon, 75-76. 

3. Lincoln, 1, 1-9. 

4. Lamon, 125-126; Herndon, 104. 

5. Herndon, 117-118. 

6. N. And H. , 1, 109. 

7. Stories, 94. 

8. Herndon, 118-123. 

9. Lamon, 159-164; Herndon, 128-138; Rankin, 61-95. 

10. Lamon, 164. 

11. Lamon, 164-165; Rankin, 95. 

IV. REVELATIONS. 

1. Riddle, 337. 

2. Herndon, 436. 

3. N. And H. , I, 138. 

4. Lincoln, I, 51-52. 

5. McClure, 65. 

6. Herndon, 184. 185. 

7. Anon, 172-183; Herndon, 143-150, 161; Lincoln, 1, 87-92. 

8. Gossip has preserved a melodramatic tale with regard to Lincoln'smarriage. It describes the bride to be, waiting, arrayed, in tenseexpectation deepening into alarm; the guests assembled, wondering, while the hour appointed passes by and the ceremony does not begin; thefailure of the prospective bridegroom to appear; the scattering of thecompany, amazed, their tongues wagging. The explanation offered is anattack of insanity. Herndon, 215; I, anon, 239-242. As might be expectedLincoln's secretaries who see him always in a halo give no hint of suchan event. It has become a controversial scandal. Is it a fact or a myth?Miss Tarbell made herself the champion of the mythical explanation andcollected a great deal of evidence that makes it hard to accept thestory as a fact Tarbell, I, Chap. XI. Still later a very sane memoirist, Henry B. Rankin, who knew Lincoln, and is not at all an apologist, takesthe same view. His most effective argument is that such an event couldnot have occurred in the little country town of Springfield withoutbecoming at the time the common property of all the gossips. Theevidence is bewildering. I find myself unable to accept the disappointedwedding guests as established facts, even though the latest student ofHerndon has no doubts. Lincoln and Herndon, 321-322. But whether thebroken marriage story is true or false there is no doubt that Lincolnpassed through a desolating inward experience about "the fatal firstof January"; that it was related to the breaking of his engagement; andthat for a time his sufferings were intense. The letters to Speed arethe sufficient evidence. Lincoln, I, 175; 182-189; 210-219; 240; 261;267-269. The prompt explanation of insanity may be cast aside, oneof those foolish delusions of shallow people to whom all abnormalconditions are of the same nature as all others. Lincoln wrote to anoted Western physician, Doctor Drake of Cincinnati, with regard to his"case"--that is, his nervous breakdown--and Doctor Drake replied butrefused to prescribe without an interview. Lamon, 244. 

V. PROSPERITY. 

1. Carpenter, 304-305. 

2. Lamon, 243, 252-269; Herndon, 226-243, 248-251; N. And H. , 201, 203-12. 

3. A great many recollections of Lincoln attempt to describe him. Exceptin a large and general way most of them show that lack of definitevisualization which characterizes the memories of the careless observer. His height, his bony figure, his awkwardness, the rudely chiseledfeatures, the mystery in his eyes, the kindliness of his expression, these are the elements of the popular portrait. Now and then a closerobserver has added a detail. Witness the masterly comment of WaltWhitman. Herndon's account of Lincoln speaking has the earmarks ofaccuracy. The attempt by the portrait painter, Carpenter, to renderhim in words is quoted later in this volume. Carpenter, 217-218. Unfortunately he was never painted by an artist of great originality, by one who was equal to his opportunity. My authority for the texture ofhis skin is a lady of unusual closeness of observation, the late Mrs. M. T. W. Curwen of Cincinnati, who saw him in 1861 in the private car ofthe president of the Indianapolis and Cincinnati railroad. An exhaustivestudy of the portraits of Lincoln is in preparation by Mr. WinfredPorter Truesdell, who has a valuable paper on the subject in The PrintConnoisseur, for March, 1921. 

4. Herndon, 264. 

5. Ibid. 

6. Ibid. , 515. 

7. A vital question to the biographer of Lincoln is the credibility ofHerndon. He has been accused of capitalizing his relation with Lincolnand producing a sensational image for commercial purposes. Though hisLife did not appear until 1890 when the official work of Nicolay and Haywas in print, he had been lecturing and corresponding upon Lincoln fornearly twenty-five years. The "sensational" first edition of his Lifeproduced a storm of protest. The book was promptly recalled, workedover, toned down, and reissued "expurgated" in 1892. 

Such biographers as Miss Tarbell appear to regard Herndon as a mereromancer. The well poised Lincoln and Herndon recently published byJoseph Fort Newton holds what I feel compelled to regard as a sounderview; namely, that while Herndon was at times reckless and at timesbiased, nevertheless he is in the main to be relied upon. 

Three things are to be borne in mind: Herndon was a literary man bynature; but he was not by training a developed artist; he was a romanticof the full flood of American romanticism and there are traceable in himthe methods of romantic portraiture. Had he been an Elizabethan one canimagine him laboring hard with great pride over an inferior "Tamburlanethe Great"--and perhaps not knowing that it was inferior. Furthermore, he had not, before the storm broke on him, any realization ofthe existence in America of another school of portraiture, theheroic--conventual, that could not understand the romantic. If Herndonstrengthened as much as possible the contrasts of his subject--suchas the contrast between the sordidness of Lincoln's origin and theloftiness of his thought--he felt that by so doing he was merelyrendering his subject in its most brilliant aspect, giving to it thelargest degree of significance. A third consideration is Herndon'senthusiasm for the agnostic deism that was rampant in America in hisday. Perhaps this causes his romanticism to slip a cog, to run at timeson a side-track, to become the servant of his religious partisanship. In three words the faults of Herndon are exaggeration, literalness andexploitiveness. 

But all these are faults of degree which the careful student can allowfor. By "checking up" all the parts of Herndon that it is possible tocheck up one can arrive at a pretty confident belief that one knows howto divest the image he creates of its occasional unrealities. When onedoes so, the strongest argument for relying cautiously, watchfully, upon Herndon appears. The Lincoln thus revealed, though only a charactersketch, is coherent. And it stands the test of comparison in detail withthe Lincolns of other, less romantic, observers. That is to say, withall his faults, Herndon has the inner something that will enablethe diverse impressions of Lincoln, always threatening to becomeirreconcilable, to hang together and out of their very incongruity toinvoke a person that is not incongruous. And herein, in this touchstoneso to speak is Herndon's value. 

8. Herndon, 265. 

9. Lamon, 51. 

10. Lincoln, I, 35-SO. 

11. The reader who would know the argument against Herndon (436-446) andLamon (486-502) on the subject of Lincoln's early religion is referredto The Soul of Abraham Lincoln, by William Eleazer Barton. It is tobe observed that the present study is never dogmatic about Lincoln'sreligion in its early phases. And when Herndon and Lamon generalizeabout his religious life, it must be remembered that they are thinkingof him as they knew him in Illinois. Herndon had no familiarity withhim after he went to Washington. Lamon could not have seen very much ofhim--no one but his secretaries and his wife did. And his taciturnitymust be borne in mind. Nicolay has recorded that he did not know whatLincoln believed. Lamon, 492. That Lincoln was vaguely a deist in the'forties--so far as he had any theology at all--may be true. But it is arash leap to a conclusion to assume that his state of mind even then wasthe same thing as the impression it made on so practical, bard-headed, unpoetical a character as Lamon; or on so combatively imaginative butwholly unmystical a mind as Herndon's. Neither of them seems to haveany understanding of those agonies of spirit through which Lincolnsubsequently passed which will appear in the account of the year 1862. See also Miss Nicolay, 384-386. There is a multitude of pronouncementson Lincoln's religion, most of them superficial. 

12. Lincoln, I, 206. 

13. Nicolay, 73-74; N. And H. , 1, 242; Lamon, 275-277. 

14. Lamon, 277-278; Herndon, 272-273; N. And H. , 1, 245-249. 

VI. UNSATISFYING RECOGNITION. 

1. N. And H. , I, 28, 28&

2. Tarbell, 1, 211. 

3. Ibid. , 210-211. 

4. Herndon, 114. 

5. Lincoln, II, 28-48. 

6. Herndon, 306-308, 319; Newton, 4(141). 

7. Tarbell, I, 209-210. 

8. Herndon, 306. 

9. Lamon, 334; Herndon, 306; N. And H. , I, 297. 

VII. THE SECOND START. 

1. Herndon, 307, 319. 

2. Herndon, 319-321. 

3. Herndon, 314-317. 

4. Herndon, 332-333. 

5. Herndon, 311-312. 

6. Herndon, 319. 

7. Lamon, 165. 

8. Herndon, 309. 

9. Herndon, 113-114; Stories, 18~

10. Herndon, 338. 

11. Lamon, 324. 

12. Lincoln, 11, 142. 

13. Herndon, 347. 

14. Herndon, 363. 

15. Herndon, 362. 

16. Lincoln, II, 172. 

17. Lincoln, II, 207. 

18. Lincoln, II, 173. 

19. Lincoln, II, 165. 

VIII. A RETURN TO POLITICS. 

1. Johnson, 234. 

2. I have permission to print the following letter from the HonorableJohn H. Marshall, Judge Fifth Judicial Circuit, Charleston, Illinois:

"Your letter of the 24th inst. At hand referring to slave trial inwhich Lincoln was interested, referred to by Professor Henry Johnson. Twenty-five years ago, while I was secretary of the Coles County BarAssociation, a paper was read to the Association by the oldest memberconcerning the trial referred to, and his paper was filed with rue. Someyears ago I spoke of the matter to Professor Johnson, and at the timewas unable to find the old manuscript, and decided that the same hadbeen inadvertently destroyed. However, quite recently I found this papercrumpled up under some old book records. The author of this article is areputable member of the bar of this country of very advanced age, and atthat time quoted as his authority well-known and very substantial menof the county, who had taken an active interest in the litigation. His paper referred to incidents occurring in 1847, and there is nowno living person with any knowledge of it. The story in brief is asfollows:

"In 1845, General Robert Matson, of Kentucky, being hard pressedfinancially, in order to keep them from being sold in payment of hisdebts, brought Jane Bryant, with her four small children to this county. Her husband, Anthony Bryant, was a free negro, and a licensed exhorterin the Methodist Church of Kentucky. But his wife and children wereslaves of Matson. In 1847, Matson, determined to take the Bryants backto Kentucky as his slaves, caused to be issued by a justice of the peaceof the county a writ directed to Jane Bryant and her children to appearbefore him forthwith and answer the claim of Robert Matson that theirservice was due to him, etc. This action produced great excitement inthis county. Practically the entire community divided, largely onthe lines of pro-slavery and anti-slavery. Usher F. Linder, the mosteloquent lawyer in this vicinity, appeared for Matson, and Orlando B. Ficklin, twice a member of Congress, appeared for the negroes. Under thepractice the defendant obtained a hearing from three justices insteadof one, and a trial ensued lasting several days, and attended by greatexcitement. Armed men made demonstrations and bloodshed was narrowlyaverted. Two of the justices were pro-slavery, and one anti-slavery. Thetrial was held in Charleston. The decision of the justice was discreet. It was held that the court had no jurisdiction to determine the rightof property, but that Jane and her children were of African descent andfound in the state of Illinois without a certificate of freedom, andthat they be committed to the county jail to be advertised and sold topay the jail fees. 

"At the next term of the circuit court, Ficklin obtained an orderstaying proceedings until the further order of the court. Finally whenthe case was heard in the circuit court Linder and Abraham Lincolnappeared for Matson, who was insisting upon the execution of thejudgment of the three justices of the peace so that he could buy themat the proposed sale, and Ficklin and Charles Constable, afterward acircuit judge of this circuit, appeared for the negroes. The judgmentwas in favor of the negroes and they were discharged. 

"The above is a much abbreviated account of this occurrence, strippedof its local coloring, giving however its salient points, and I have nodoubt of its substantial accuracy. "

3. Lincoln, II, 185. 

4. Lincoln, II, 186. 

5. Lamon, 347. 

6. Lincoln, II, 232-233. 

7. Lincoln, II, 190-262. 

8. Lincoln, 274-277. 

IX. THE LITERARY STATESMAN. 

1. Herndon, 371-372. 

2. Lincoln, II, 329-330. 

3. Lincoln, III, 1-2. 

4. Herndon, 405-408. 

5. Lincoln. II, 279. 

6. Lamon, 416. 

X. THE DARK HORSE. 

1. Lincoln, V, 127. 

2. Tarbell, I, 335. 

3. Lincoln, V, 127, 138, 257-258. 

4. Lincoln, V, 290-291. He never entirely shook off his erratic use ofnegatives. See, also, Lamon, 424; Tarbell, I, 338. 

5. Lincoln, V, 293-32&6. McClure, 23-29; Field, 126, 137-138; Tarbell, I, 342-357. 

XII. THE CRISIS

1. Letters, 172. 

2. Lincoln, VI, 77, 78, 79, 93. 

3. Bancroft, 11, 10; Letters, 111. 

XIII. ECLIPSE. 

1. Bancroft, II, 10; Letters, 172. 

2. Bancroft, II, 9-10. 

3. Herndon, 484. 

4. McClure, 140-145; Lincoln, VI, 91, 97. 

5. Recollections, 111. 

6. Recollections, 121. 

7. Recollections, 112-113; Tarbell, I, 404-415. 

8. Tarbell, 1, 406. 

9. Tarbell, I, 406. 

10. Lincoln, VI, 91. 

11. Tarbell, 1, 406. 

12. Herndon, 483-484

13. Lamon, 505; see also, Herndon, 485. 

14. Lincoln, VI, 110. 

XIV. THE STRANGE NEW MAN. 

1. Lincoln, VI, 130. 

2. Merriam, I, 318. 

3. Public Man, 140. 

4. Van Santvoord. 

5. N. And H. , I, 36; McClure, 179. 

6. Herndon, 492. 

7. Recollections, 39-41. 

8. Lincoln, VI, 162-164. 

9. Bancroft, II, 38-45. 

10. Public Man, 383. 

11. Chittenden, 89-90. 

12. Public Man, 387. 

XV. PRESIDENT AND PREMIER. 

1. Hay MS, I, 64. 

2. Tyler, II, 565-566. 

3. Bradford, 208; Seward, IV, 416. 

4. Nicolay, 213. 

5. Chase offered to procure a commission for Henry Villard, "by way ofcompliment to the Cincinnati Commercial" Villard, 1, 177. 

6. N. And H. , III, 333, note 12. 

7. Outbreak, 52. 

8. Hay MS, I, 91; Tyler, II, 633; Coleman, 1, 338. 

9. Hay MS, I, 91; Riddle, 5; Public Man, 487. 

10. Correspondence, 548-549. 

11. See Miss Schrugham's monograph for much important data with regardto this moment. Valuable as her contribution is, I can not feel that theconclusions invalidate the assumption of the text. 

12. Lincoln, VI, 192-220. 

13. Sherman, I, 195-1%. 

14. Lincoln, VI, 175-176. 

15. 127 0. R. , 161. 

16. Munford, 274; Journal of the Virginia Convention, 1861. 

17. Lincoln, VI, 227-230. 

18. N. R. , first series, IV, 227. 

19. Hay MS, I, 143. 

20. The great authority of Mr. Frederick Bancroft is still on the sideof the older interpretation of Seward's Thoughts, Bancroft, II, Chap. XXIX. It must be remembered that following the war there was a reactionagainst Seward. When Nicolay and Hay published the Thoughts theyappeared to give him the coup de grace. Of late years it has almost beenthe fashion to treat him contemptuously. Even Mr. Bancroft has been verycautious in his defense. This is not the place to discuss his geniusor his political morals. But on one thing I insist, Whatever else hewas-unscrupulous or what you will-he was not a fool. However reckless, at times, his spread-eagleism there was shrewdness behind it. The ideathat he proposed a ridiculous foreign policy at a moment when all hisother actions reveal coolness and calculation; the idea that he proposedit merely as a spectacular stroke in party management; this is too muchto believe. A motive must be found better than mere chicanery. 

Furthermore, if there was one fixed purpose in Seward, during March andearly April, it was to avoid a domestic conflict; and the only way hecould see to accomplish that was to side-track Montgomery's expansiveall-Southern policy. Is it not fair, with so astute a politician asSeward, to demand in explanation of any of his moves 'he uncoveringof some definite political force he was playing up to? The oldinterpretation of the Thoughts offers no force to which they form aresponse. Especially it is impossible to find in them any scheme to getaround Montgomery. But the old view looked upon the Virginia compromisewith blind eyes. That was no part of the mental prospect. In accountingfor Seward's purposes it did not exist. But the moment one's eyes areopened to its significance, especially to the menace it had for theMontgomery program, is not the entire scene transformed? Is not, underthese new conditions, the purpose intimated in the text, the purpose toopen a new field of exploitation to the Southern expansionists inorder to reconcile them to the Virginia scheme, is not this at leastplausible? And it escapes making Seward a fool. 

21. Lincoln, VI, 23~237. 

22. Welles, 1, 17. 

23. There is still lacking a complete unriddling of the three-corneredgame of diplomacy played in America in March and April, 1861. Of thethree participants Richmond is the most fully revealed. It was playingdesperately for a compromise, any sort of compromise, that would savethe one principle of state sovereignty. For that, slavery wouldbe sacrificed, or at least allowed to be put in jeopardy. Munford, Virginia's Attitude toward Slavery and Secession; Tyler, Lettersand Times of the Tylers; Journal of the Virginia Convention of 1861. However, practically no Virginian would put himself in the position offorcing any Southern State to abandon slavery against its will. Hencethe Virginia compromise dealt only with the expansion of slavery, wouldgo no further than to give the North a veto on that expansion. Andits compensating requirement plainly would be a virtual demand for theacknowledgment of state sovereignty. 

Precisely what passed between Richmond and Washington is still somethingof a mystery. John Hay quotes Lincoln as saying that he twice offeredto evacuate Sumter, once before and once after his inauguration, ifthe Virginians "would break up their convention without any row ornonsense. " Hay MS, I, 91; Thayer, I, 118-119. From other sources we haveknowledge of at least two conferences subsequent to the inauguration andprobably three. One of the conferences mentioned by Lincoln seems prettywell identified. Coleman II, 337-338. It was informal and may be setaside as having little if any historic significance. When and to whomLincoln's second offer was made is not fully established. Riddle in hisRecollections says that he was present at an informal interview "withloyal delegates of the Virginia State Convention, " who were whollysatisfied with Lincoln's position. Riddle, 25. Possibly, this was thesecond conference mentioned by Lincoln. It has scarcely a feature incommon with the conference of April 4, which has become the subjectof acrimonious debate. N. And H. , III, 422-428; Boutwell, II, 62-67;Bancroft, II, 102-104; Munford, 270; Southern Historical Papers, 1, 449; Botts, 195- 201; Crawford, 311; Report of the Joint Committee onReconstruction, first session, Thirty-Ninth Congress; Atlantic, April, 1875. The date of this conference is variously given as the fourth, fifth and sixth of April. Curiously enough Nicolay and Hay seem tohave only an external knowledge of It; their account is made up fromdocuments and lacks entirely the authoritative note. They do not referto the passage in the Hay MS, already quoted. 

There are three versions of the interview between Lincoln and Baldwin. One was given by Baldwin himself before the Committee on Reconstructionsome five years after; one comprises the recollections of ColonelDabney, to whom Baldwin narrated the incident in the latter part ofthe war; a third is in the recollections of John Minor Botts of aconversation with Lincoln April 7, 1862. No two of the versions entirelyagree. Baldwin insists that Lincoln made no offer of any sort; while'Botts in his testimony before the Committee on Reconstruction says thatLincoln told him that he had told Baldwin that he was so anxious "forthe preservation of the peace of this country and to save Virginiaand the other Border States from going out that (he would) take theresponsibility of evacuating Fort Sumter, and take the chances ofnegotiating with the Cotton States. " Baldwin's language before thecommittee is a little curious and has been thought disingenuous. Boutwell, I, 66. However, practically no one in this connection hasconsidered the passage in the Hay MS or the statement in Riddle. Puttingthese together and remembering the general situation of the first weekof April there arises a very plausible argument for accepting the mainfact in Baldwin's version of his conference and concluding that Bottseither misunderstood Lincoln (as Baldwin says he did) or got the mattertwisted in memory. A further bit of plausibility is the guess thatLincoln talked with Botts not only of the interview with Baldwin butalso of the earlier interview mentioned by Riddle and that the twobecame confused in recollection. 

To venture on an assumption harmonizing these confusions. When Lincolncame to Washington, being still in his delusion that slavery was theissue and therefore that the crisis was "artificial, " he was willingto make almost any concession, and freely offered to evacuate Sumter ifthereby he could induce Virginia to drop the subject of secession. Evenlater, when he was beginning to appreciate the real significance of themoment, he was still willing to evacuate Sumter if the issue would notbe pushed further in the Border States, that is, if Virginia would notdemand a definite concession of the right of secession. Up to this pointI can not think that he had taken seriously Seward's proposed conventionof the States and the general discussion of permanent Federal relationsthat would be bound to ensue. But now he makes his fateful discoverythat the issue is not slavery but sovereignty. He sees that Virginiais in dead earnest on this issue and that a general convention willnecessarily involve a final discussion of sovereignty in the UnitedStates and that the price of the Virginia Amendment will be theconcession of the right of secession. On this assumption it is hardlyconceivable that he offered to evacuate Sumter as late as the fourth ofApril. The significance therefore of the Baldwin interview would consistin finally convincing Lincoln that he could not effect any compromisewithout conceding the principle of state sovereignty. As this was theone thing he was resolved never to concede there was nothing lefthim but to consider what course would most strategically renouncecompromise. Therefore, when it was known at Washington a day or twolater that Port Pickens was in imminent danger of being taken by theConfederates (see note 24), Lincoln instantly concentrated all hisenergies on the relief of Sumter. All along he had believed that oneof the forts must be held for the purpose of "a clear indication ofpolicy, " even if the other should be given up "as a militarynecessity. " Lincoln, VI, 301. His purpose, therefore, in deciding on theostentatious demonstration toward Sumter was to give notice to the wholecountry that he made no concessions on the matter of sovereignty. In away it was his answer to the Virginia compromise. 

At last the Union party in Virginia sent a delegation to confer withLincoln. It did not arrive until Sumter had been fired upon. Lincolnread to them a prepared statement of policy which announced hisresolution to make war, if necessary, to assert the nationalsovereignty. Lincoln, VI, 243-245. 

The part of Montgomery in this tangled episode is least understood ofthe three. With Washington Montgomery had no official communication. Both Lincoln and Seward refused to recognize commissioners of theConfederate government Whether Seward as an individual went behind theback of himself as an official and personally deceived the commissionersis a problem of his personal biography and his private morals that hasno place in this discussion. Between Montgomery and Richmond there wasintimate and cordial communication from the start. At first Montgomeryappears to have taken for granted that the Secessionist party atRichmond was so powerful that there was little need for the newgovernment to do anything but wait But a surprise was in store for itDuring February and March its agents reported a wide-spread desirein the South to compromise on pretty nearly any terms that would notsurrender the central Southern idea of state sovereignty. Thusan illusion of that day--as of this--was exploded, namely theirresistibility of economic solidarity. Sentimental and constitutionalforces were proving more powerful than economics. Thereupon Montgomery'sproblem was transformed. Its purpose was to build a Southern nation andit had believed hitherto that economic forces had put into its handsthe necessary tools. Now it must throw them aside and get possession ofothers. It must evoke those sentimental and constitutional forces thatso many rash statesmen have always considered negligible. Consequently, for the South no less than for the North, the issue was speedily shiftedfrom slavery to sovereignty. Just how this was brought about we donot yet know. Whether altogether through foresight and statesmanlikedeliberation, or in part at least through what might almost be calledaccidental influences, is still a little uncertain. The question narrowsitself to this: why was Sumter fired upon precisely when it was? Thereare at least three possible answers. 

(1) That the firing was dictated purely by military necessity. A beliefthat Lincoln intended to reinforce as well as to supply Sumter, that ifnot taken now it could never be taken, may have been the over-masteringidea in the Confederate Cabinet. The reports of the Commissioners atWashington were tinged throughout by the belief that Seward and Lincolnwere both double-dealers. Beauregard, in command at Charleston, reportedthat pilots had come in from the sea and told him of Federal war-shipssighted off the Carolina coast. O. R. 297, 300, 301, 304, 305. 

(2) A political motive which to-day is not so generally intelligible asonce it was, had great weight in 1861. This was the sense of honorin politics. Those historians who brush it aside as a figment lackhistorical psychology. It is possible that both Governor Pickens and theConfederate Cabinet were animated first of all by the belief that thehonor of South Carolina required them to withstand the attempt of whatthey held to be an alien power. 

(3) And yet, neither of these explanations, however much either or bothmay have counted for in many minds, gives a convincing explanation ofthe agitation of Toornbs in the Cabinet council which decided to fireupon Sumter. Neither of these could well be matters of debate. Everybodyhad to be either for or against, and that would be an end. The Toombsof that day was a different man from the Toombs of three months earlier. Some radical change had taken place in his thought What could it havebeen if it was not the perception that the Virginia program had put thewhole matter in a new light, that the issue had indeed been changed fromslavery to sovereignty, and that to join battle on the latter issuewas a far more serious matter than to join battle on the former. And ifToombs reasoned in this fearful way, it is easy to believe that the morebuoyant natures in that council may well have reasoned in preciselythe opposite way. Virginia had lifted the Southern cause to its highestplane. But there was danger that the Virginia compromise might prevail. If that should happen these enthusiasts for a separate Southernnationality might find all their work undone at the eleventh hour. Virginians who shared Montgomery's enthusiasms had seen this beforethen. That was why Roger Pryor, for example, had gone to Charleston asa volunteer missionary. In a speech to a Charleston crowd he besoughtthem, as a way of precipitating Virginia into the lists, to strike blow. Charleston Mercury, April 11, 1861. 

The only way to get any clue to these diplomatic tangles is bydiscarding the old notion that there were but two political idealsclashing together in America in 1861. There were three. The Virginianswith their devotion to the idea of a league of nations in this countrywere scarcely further away from Lincoln and his conception of a Federalunit than they were from those Southerners who from one cause or anotherwere possessed with the desire to create a separate Southern nation. The Virginia program was as deadly to one as to the other of these twoforces which with the upper South made up the triangle of the day. Thereal event of March, 1861, was the perception both by Washington andMontgomery that the Virginia program spelled ruin for its own. By themiddle of April it would be difficult to say which had the better reasonto desire the defeat of that program, Washington or Montgomery. 

24. Lincoln, VI, 240, 301, 302; N. R. , first series, IV, 109, 235, 239;Welles, I, 16, 22-23, 25; Bancroft, II, 127, 129-130, 138, 139, 144; N. And H. , III, Chap. XI, IV, Chap. I. Enemies of Lincoln have accused himof bad faith with regard to the relief of Fort Pickens. The facts appearto be as follows: In January, 1861, when Fort Pickens was in danger ofbeing seized by the forces of the State of Florida, Buchanan ordered anaval expedition to proceed to its relief. Shortly afterward--January2--Senator Mallory on behalf of Florida persuaded him to order therelief expedition not to land any troops so long as the Florida forcesrefrained from attacking the fort. This understanding between Buchananand Mallory is some-times called "the Pickens truce, " sometimes "thePickens Armistice. " N. And H. , III, Chap. XI; N. R. , first series, 1, 74; Scott, II, 624-625. The new Administration had no definite knowledgeof it. Lincoln, VI, 302. Lincoln despatched a messenger to the reliefexpedition, which was still hovering off the Florida coast, and orderedits troops to be landed. The commander replied that he felt bound by theprevious orders which had been issued in the name of the Secretary ofthe Navy while the new orders issued from the Department of War; headded that relieving Pickens would produce war and wished to be surethat such was the President's intention; he also informed Lincoln'smessenger of the terms of Buchanan's agreement with Mallory. Themessenger returned to Washington for ampler instructions. N. And H. , IV, Chap. I; N. R. , first series, I, 109-110, 110-111. 

Two days before his arrival at Washington alarming news from Charlestonbrought Lincoln very nearly, if not quite, to the point of issuingsailing orders to the Sumter expedition. Lincoln, VI, 240. A day later, Welles issued such orders. N. IL, first series, I, 235; Bancroft, II, 138-139. On April sixth, the Pickens messenger returned to Washington. N. And H. , IV, 7. Lincoln was now in full possession of all the facts. In his own words, "To now reinforce Fort Pickens before a crisis wouldbe reached at Fort Sumter was impossible, rendered so by the exhaustionof provisions at the latter named fort. . . . The strongest anticipatedcase for using it (the Sumter expedition) was now presented, and itwas resolved to send it forward. " Lincoln, VI, 302. He also issuedperemptory orders for the Pickens expedition to land its force, whichwas done April twelfth. N. R. , first series, I, 110-111, 115. How hereasoned upon the question of a moral obligation devolving, or notdevolving, upon himself as a consequence of the Buchanan-Malloryagreement, he did not make public. The fact of the agreement waspublished in the first message. But when Congress demanded informationon the subject, Lincoln transmitted to it a report from Welles decliningto submit the information on account of the state of the country. 10. IL, 440-441. 

25. Lincoln, VI, 241. 

XVI. ON TO RICHMOND. 

1. May MS, I, 23. 

2. N. And H. , IV, 152. 

3. Hay MS, I, 45. 

4. Hay MS, I, 46. 

5. Hay MS, I, 5~56. 

6. Sherman, I, 199. 

7. Nicolay, 213. 

8. N. And H. , IV, 322-323, 360. 

9. Bigelow, I, 360. 

10. Nicolay, 229. 

11. Lincoln, VI, 331-333. 

12. Own Story, 55, 82. 

XVII. DEFINING THE ISSUE. 

1. Lincoln, VI, 297-325. 

2. Lincoln, X, 199. 

3. Lincoln, X, 202-203. 

4. Lincoln, VI, 321. 

5. Lincoln, VII, 56-57. 

6. Bancroft, II, 121; Southern Historical Papers, I, 446. 

7. Lincoln, VI, 304. 

8. Hay MS, I, 65. 

9. Lincoln, VI, 315. 

10. 39 Globe, I, 222; N. And H. , IV, 379. 

XVIII. THE JACOBIN CLUB. 

1. White, 171. 

2. Riddle, 40-52. 

3. Harris, 62. 

4. Public Man, 139. 

5. 37 Globe, III, 1334. 

6. Chandler, 253. 

7. White, 171. 

8. Conway, II, 336. 

9. Conway, II, 329. 

10. Rhodes, III, 350. 

11. Lincoln, VI, 351. 

12. Hay MS, I, 93. 

13. Hay MS, 1, 93. 

14. Bigelow, I, 400. 

15. Chandler, 256. 

XIX. THE JACOBINS BECOME INQUISITORS. 

1. Lincoln, VII, 28-60. 

2. Nicolay, 321. 

3. C. W. I 3 66

4. Julian, 201. 

5. Chandler, 228. 

6. 37 Globe, II, 189-191; Lincoln, VII, 151-152; O. R. , 341-346; 1140. R. , 786, 797; C. W. , I, 5, 74, 79; Battles and Leaders, II, 132-134;Blaine, I, 383-384, 392-393; Pearson, 1, 312-313; Chandler, 222; Porter. 

7. Swinton, 79-85, quoting General McDowell's memoranda of theirproceedings. 

8 37 Globe, II, 15. 

9 Riddle, 296; Wade, 316; Chandler, 187. 

10. C. W. , 1, 74. 

11. 37 Globe, II, 1667. 

12. 37 Globe, II, 1662-1668, 1732-1742. 

13. Lincoln, VII, 151-152. 

XX. IS CONGRESS THE PRESIDENT'S MASTER. 

1. 37 Globe, II, 67. 

2. Rhodes, III, 350. 

3. 37 Globe, II, 3328. 

4. 37 Globe, II, 2764. 

5. 37 Globe, II, 2734. 

6. 37 Globe II, 2972-2973. 

7. 37 Globe, II, 440. 

8. 37 Globe, II, 1136-1139. 

9. Quoting 7 Howard, 43-46. 

XXI. THE STRUGGLE TO CONTROL THE ARMY. 

1. N. And H. , IV, 444. 

2. Own Story, 84. 

3. Own Story, 85. 

4. Gurowski, 123. 

5. Hay MS, 1, 99; Thayer, 1, 125. 

6. N. And H. , IV, 469. 

7. Hay MS, I, 93. 

8. 5 0. R. , 41. 

9. Swinton, 79-84; C. W. , 1, 270. 

10. C. W. , I, 270, 360, 387; Hay MS, II, 101. 

11. Gorham, I, 347-348; Kelly, 34. 

12. Chandler, 228; Julian, 205. 

13. Hay MS, I, 101; 5 0. R. , 1~

14. 5 0. R. , 50. 

15. 5 0. R. , 54-55; Julian, 205. 

16. Hay MS, I, 103. 

17. Hitchcock, 439. 

18. Hitchcock, 440. The italics are his. 

19. 5 0. R. , 58. 

20. 5 0. R. , 59. 

21. 5 0. R, 63. 

22. Own Story, 226; 5 0. R. , 18. 

23. C. W. , I, 251-252. 

24. C. W. , 1, 251-253, 317-318. 

25. 15 0. R. , 220; Hitchcock, 439, note. 

26. 14 0. R. , 66. 

27. 12 0. R. , 61. 

28. 17 0. R. , 219. 

29. Rhodes, IV, 19. 

30. Nicolay, 306; McClure, 168. 

31. 17 0. R. , 435. 

32. Julian, 218. 

33. N. And H. , V, 453. 

34. Lincoln, VII, 266-267. 

35. 37 Globe, II, 3386-3392. 

XXII. LINCOLN EMERGES. 

1. Alexander, III, 15-17. 

2. 37 Globe, II, 1493. 

3. Julian, 215; Conway, I, 344. 

4. 37 Globe II, 2363. 

5. Lincoln, VII, 171-172. 

6. 37 Globe, II, 1138. 

7. Lincoln, VII, 172-173. 

8. Pierce, IV, 78; 37 Globe, II, 25%. 

9. Schurz, I, 187. 

10. London Times, May 9, 1862, quoted in American papers. 

11. 128 0. R. , 2-3. 

12. Lincoln, VII, 270-274. 

13. Carpenter, 2021. 

14. Galaxy, XIV, 842-843. 

15. Lincoln, VII, 270-277; 37 Globe, II, 3322-3324, 3333. 

16. Julian, 220; 37 Globe, II, 3286-3287. 

17. Lincoln, VII, 280-286. 

XXIII. THE MYSTICAL STATESMAN. 

1. Carpenter, 189. 

2. Recollections, 161. 

3. Recollections, 161-164; Carpenter, 119. 

4. Carpenter, 116. 

5. Carpenter, 90. 

6. Chapman, 449-450. 

7. Carpenter, 187. 

8. Lincoln, VIII, 52-53. 

9. Lincoln, VIII, 50-51. 

XXIV. GAMBLING IN GENERALS. 

1. Reminiscences, 434. 

2. Recollections, 261. 

3. Galaxy, 842. 

4. Galaxy, 845. 

5 Carpenter, 22. 

6. O. R. , 80-81. 

7. C. W. , I, 282. 

8. Lincoln, VIII, 15. 

9. Julian, 221. 

10. Thayer, 1, 127. 

11. Welles, 1, 104; Nicolay, 313. 

12. Thayer, 1, 129. 

13. Thayer, 1, 161. 

14. Reminiscences, 334-335, 528; Tarbell, II, 118-120; Lincoln, VIII, 28-33. 

15. Chase, 87-88. 

16. Lincoln, VII, 40. 

XXV. A WAR BEHIND THE SCENES. 

1. Bigelow, I, 572. 

2. 37 Globe, III, 6. 

3. 37 Globe, III, 76. 

4. Lincoln, VII, 57-60. 

5. Lincoln, VII, 73. 

6. Swinton, 231. 

7. C. W. , 1, 650. 

8. Bancroft, II, 365; Welles, 1, ~198. 

9. N. And H. , VI, 265. 

10. Welles, I, 205; Alexander, III, 185. 

11. Welles, 1, 196-198. 

12. Welles, 1, 201-202. 

13. Welles, I, 200. 

14. Lincoln, VII, 195-197. 

XXVI. THE DICTATOR, THE MARPLOT, AND THE LITTLE MEN. 

1. Harris, 64. 

2. Gurowski, 312. 

3. Sherman Letters, 167. 

4. Julian, 223. 

5. Recollections, 215; Barnes, 428; Reminiscences, XXXI, XXXI I, XXXVIII. Nicolay and Hay allude to this story, but apparently doubt itsauthenticity. They think that Weed "as is customary with elderly menexaggerated the definiteness of the proposition. "

6. Jullan, 225. 

7. Lincoln, VIII, 154. 

8. Raymond, 704. 

9. Recollections, 193-194. 

10. Lincoln, VII I, 206207. 

11. 37 Globe, III, 1068. 

12. Riddle, 278. 

13. Welles, I, 336. 

14. Lincoln, VIII, 235-237. 

15. Welles, I, 293. 

16. Lincoln, VIII, 527. 

17. Lincoln, IX, 3A. 

18. Lincoln, VIII, 307-308. 

19. Barnes, 428; Reminiscences, XXX, XXXIII-XXXVIII. 

This story is told on the authority of Weed with much circumstantialdetail including the full text of a letter written by McClellan. Theletter was produced because McClellan had said that no negotiations tookplace. Though the letter plainly alludes to negotiations of some sort, it does not mention the specific offer attributed to Lincoln. Nicolayand Hay are silent on the subject. See also note five, above. 

20. Tribune, July 7, 1863. 

21. Tribune, July 6, 1863. 

22. Lincoln, IX, 17. 

23. Lincoln, IX, 20-21. 

XXVII. THE TRIBUNE OF THE PEOPLE. 

1. Rhodes, III, 461; Motley's Letters, II, 146. 

2. Reminiscences, 470. 

3. Hay, Century. ?

4. Carpenter, 281-282. 

5. Van Santvoord. 

6. Hay, Century, 35. 

7. Carpenter, 150. 

8. Recollections, 97. 

9. Recollections, 80. 

10. Carpenter, 65. 

11. Carpenter, 65-67. 

12. Carpenter, 64. 

13. Recollections, 267. 

14. Carpenter, 64. 

15. Recollections, 83-84. 

16. Carpenter, 152. 

17. Carpenter, 219. 

18. Recollections, 103-105. 

19. Lincoln, X, 274-275. 

20. Recollections, 103. 

21. Recollections, 95-96. 

22. Hay, Century. 

23. Rankin, 177-179. 

24. Hay, Century, 35. 

25. Carpenter. 

26. Thayer, I, 198-190. 

27. Thayer, I, 196-197. 

28. Thayer, I, 199-200. 

29. Carpenter, 104. 

30. Lincoln, VIII, 112-115. 

31. Lincoln, IX, 210. 

XXVIII. APPARENT ASCENDENCY. 

1. Lincoln, IX, 284. 

2. Lincoln, IX, 219-221. 

3. Lincoln, X, 38-39. 

4. 38 Globe, I, 1408. 

5. Bancroft, II, 429-430; Moore, VI, 497-498

6. Grant, II, 123. 

7. Lincoln, X, 90-91. 

XXIX. CATASTROPHE. 

1. Nicolay, 440. 

2. Carpenter, 130; Hay MS. 

3. Nicolay, 440. 

4. Lincoln, X, 25-26. 

5. 37 Globe, II, 2674. 

6. Nicolay, 352. 

7. Lincoln, X, 49. 

8. Lincoln, X, 5~54. 

9. Rankin, 381-387; Hay, Century. 

10. Carpenter, 217. 

11. Carpenter, 81. 

12. Carpenter, 218. 

13. Hay, Century, 37. 

14. Lincoln, X, 89. 

15. Carpenter, 131. 

16. Lincoln, X, 122-123. 

17. Carpenter. 168-169. 

18. Carpenter, 30-31. 

19. Lincoln, X, 129. 

XXX. THE PRESIDENT VERSUS THE VINDICTIVES. 

1. Lincoln, X, 139-140. 

2. Chittenden, 379. 

3. Lincoln, X, 140-141. 

4. Carpenter, 181-183. S. N. And H. , X, 95-100. 

5. Hay MS, I, 1617; N. And H. , IX, 120121. 

XXXI. A MENACING PAUSE. 

1. Reminiscences, 398. 

2. Globe, I, 3148. 

3. Riddle, 254. 

4. Greeley, II, 664-666. 

5. N. And H. , 186190. 

6. Gilmore, 240. 

7. Gilmore, Atlantic. & Gilmore, 243-244. 

9. Hay MS, I, 7677; N. And H. , 167-173; Carpenter, 301-302. 

10. N. And H. , IX, 338-339. 

11. Carpenter, 223-225. 

12. Carpenter, 282; also, N. And H. , IX, 364. 

13. N. And H. , IX, 188. 

14. N. And H. , IX, 192. 

15. N. And H. , IX, 195. 

16. N. And H IX, 212, note. 

17. Lincoln, X, 164-166. 

XXXII. THE AUGUST CONSPIRACY. 

1. Julian, 247. 

2. Times, August 1, 1864. 

3. Herald, August 6, 1864. 

4. Sun, June 30, 1889. 

5. N. And H. , IX, 250. 

6. N. And H. , IX, 218. 

7. Times, August 18, 1864. & N. And H. , IX, 197. 

9. Herald, August 18, 1864. 

10. Lincoln, X, 308. 

11. N. And H. , IX, 250. 

12. Lincoln, X, 203-204. 

13. N. And H. , IX, 221. 

14. Ibid. 

15. Herald, August 26, 1864. 

16. Tribune, August 27, 1864. 

17. Times, August 26, 1864. 

XXXIII. THE RALLY TO THE PRESIDENT. 

1. Herald, August 24, 1864. 

2. Times, August 26, 1864~

3. Pierce, IV, 197-198. 

4. Pearson, 11, 150-151. 

5. Herald, August 23, 1864. 

6. Pearson, II, 168. 

7. Ibid. The terms offered Davis were not stated in the Atlanticarticle. See Gilmore, 289-290. 

8. Tribune, August 27', 1864. 

9. Sun, June 30, 1889. 

10. Sun, June 30, 1889; Pearson, II, 160-161. 

11. Pearson, , II, 164. 

12. Pearson, II, 166. 

13. Sun, June 30, 1889. 

14. Tribune, August 30, 1864. 

15. Pearson, II, 162. 

16. Tribune, September 3, 1864. 

17. Pearson, 11, 165. 

18. Sun, June 30, 1889. 

19. Pearson, II, 167; Tribune, September 7, 1864. 

20. Tribune, September 6, 1864. 

21. Sun, June 30, 1889. 

22. Tribune, September 9, 1864. 

23. Tribune, September 7, 1864. 

24. Tribune, September 12, 1864. 

25. Tribune, September 22, 1864. 

XXXIV. "FATHER ABRAHAM. "

1. N. And H. , IX, 339. 

2. Ibid. 

3. Arnold, 390. 

4. Chandler, 274-276. 

5. The familiar version of the retirement of affair is contained inthe Life of Chandler issued by the Detroit Post and Tribune withoutan author's name. This book throughout is an apology for Chandler. Insubstance its story of this episode is as follows: Chandler beheld withaching heart the estrangement between Lincoln and Wade; he set to workto bring them together; at a conference which he had with Wade, in Ohio, a working understanding was effected; Chandler hurried to Washington;with infinite pains he accomplished a party deal, the three elements ofwhich were Lincoln's removal of Blair, Fremont's resignation, and Wade'sappearance in the Administration ranks. Whatever may be said of thephysical facts of this narrative, its mental facts, its tone andatmosphere, are historical fiction. And I have to protest that thesignificance of the episode has been greatly exaggerated. The seriesof dates given in the text can not be reconciled with any theorywhich makes the turn of the tide toward Lincoln at all dependent on aBlair-Fremont deal. Speaking of the tradition that Chandler calledupon Lincoln and made a definite agreement with him looking toward theremoval of Blair, Colonel W. O. Stoddard writes me that his "opinion, orhalf memory, would be that the tradition is a myth. " See also, Welles, II, 156-158. 

6. Lincoln, X, 228-229. 

7. Times, September 24, 1864. 

8. Times, September 28, 1864. 

9. N. And H. , IX, 364. 

10. Thayer, II, 214; Hay MS. 

11. N. And H. , IX, 377. 

12. Thayer, II, 216; Hay MS, III, 29. 

13. Lincoln, X, 261. 

14. N. And H. , IX, 378-379. 

XXXV. THE MASTER OF THE MOMENT. 

1. Lincoln, X, 283. 

2. N. And H. , IX, 392-394. 

3. N. And H. , IX, 210-211. 

4. One of the traditions that has grown up around Lincoln makes thepassage of the Thirteenth Amendment a matter of threats. Two votes wereneeded. It was discovered according to this simpleminded bit of art thattwo members of the opposition had been guilty of illegal practices, theprecise nature of which is conveniently left vague. Lincoln, even insome highly reputable biographies, sent for these secret criminals, told them that the power of the President of the United States wasvery great, and that he expected them to vote for the amendment. Theauthority for the story appears to be a member of Congress, John B. Aley. Reminiscences, 585-586; Lord Charnwood, Abraham Lincoln, 335-336. To a great many minds it has always seemed out of key. Fortunately, there is a rival version. Shrewd, careful Riddle has a vastly differenttale in which Lincoln does not figure at all, in which three necessaryvotes were bought for the amendment by Ashley. Riddle is so careful tomake plain just what he can vouch for and just what he has at secondhand that his mere mode of narration creates confidence. Riddle, 324-325. Parts of his version are to be found in various places. 

5. Nicolay, Cambridge, 601. 

6. Lincoln, X, 38-39, and note; XI, 89. 

7. 38 Globe, II, 903. 

8. 38 Globe, II, 1127. 

9. 38 Globe, 11, 1129; Pierce, IV, 221-227. 

10. Recollections, 249. 

11. Nicolay, 503-504; Lincoln, XI, 43. 

12. Lincoln, XI, 4446. 

XXXVI. PREPARING A DIFFERENT WAR. 

1. Grant, II, 459. 

2. Tarbell, II, 229. 

3. N. And H. , IX, 457. 

4. Pierce, IV, 236. 

5. Lincoln, XI, 84-91. 

XXXVII. FATE INTERPOSES. 

1. Tarbell, II, 231-232. 

2. Pierce, IV, 235. 

3. Tarbell, II, 232. 

4. Recollections, 116. 

5. Nicolay, 531. 

6. N. And H. , X, 283-284. 

7. Julian, 255. 

8. Recollections, 249. 

9. Recollections, 119. 

10. Nicolay, 532. 

11. Recollections, 119-120; Carpenter, 293; Nicolay, 532; Tarbell, II, 235. 

12. Nicolay, 539. 

13. Thayer, II, 219; Hay MS, 14. Riddle, 332. 

15. Nicolay, 530.