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Title: A Short Life of Abraham Lincoln
       Condensed from Nicolay & Hay's Abraham Lincoln: A History

Author: John G. Nicolay

Release Date: July 19, 2005 [EBook #16332]

Language: English

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[Illustration: PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SON "TAD."]




A SHORT LIFE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN


CONDENSED FROM NICOLAY & HAY'S
ABRAHAM LINCOLN: A HISTORY

BY

JOHN G. NICOLAY


NEW YORK
The Century Co.
1904

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_Published October, 1902_

THE DEVINNE PRESS.




CONTENTS


I

Ancestry--Thomas Lincoln and Nancy Hanks--Rock Spring Farm--Lincoln's
Birth--Kentucky Schools--The Journey to Indiana--Pigeon Creek
Settlement--Indiana Schools--Sally Bush Lincoln--Gentryville--Work and
Books--Satires and Sermons--Flatboat Voyage to New Orleans--The Journey
to Illinois

II

Flatboat--New Salem--Election Clerk--Store and Mill--Kirkham's
"Grammar"--"Sangamo Journal"--The Talisman--Lincoln's Address, March 9,
1832--Black Hawk War--Lincoln Elected Captain--Mustered out May 27,
1832--Re-enlisted in Independent Spy Battalion--Finally Mustered out,
June 16, 1832--Defeated for the Legislature--Blacksmith or Lawyer?--The
Lincoln-Berry Store--Appointed Postmaster, May 7, 1833--National
Politics

III

Appointed Deputy Surveyor--Elected to Legislature in 1834--Campaign
Issues--Begins Study of Law--Internal Improvement System--The
Lincoln-Stone Protest--Candidate for Speaker in 1838 and 1840

IV

Law Practice--Rules for a Lawyer--Law and Politics: Twin
Occupations--The Springfield Coterie--Friendly Help--Anne Rutledge--Mary
Owens

V

Springfield Society--Miss Mary Todd--Lincoln's Engagement--His Deep
Despondency--Visit to Kentucky--Letters to Speed--The Shields
Duel--Marriage--Law Partnership with Logan--Hardin Nominated for
Congress, 1843--Baker Nominated for Congress, 1844--Lincoln Nominated
and Elected, 1846

VI

First Session of the Thirtieth Congress--Mexican War--"Wilmot
Proviso"--Campaign of 1848--Letters to Herndon about Young Men in
Politics--Speech in Congress on the Mexican War--Second Session of the
Thirtieth Congress--Bill to Prohibit Slavery in the District of
Columbia--Lincoln's Recommendations of Office-Seekers--Letters to
Speed--Commissioner of the General Land Office--Declines Governorship of
Oregon

VII

Repeal of the Missouri Compromise--State Fair Debate--Peoria
Debate--Trumbull Elected--Letter to Robinson--The Know-Nothings--Decatur
Meeting--Bloomington Convention--Philadelphia Convention--Lincoln's Vote
for Vice-President--Frémont and Dayton--Lincoln's Campaign
Speeches--Chicago Banquet Speech

VIII

Buchanan Elected President--The Dred Scott Decision--Douglas's
Springfield Speech, 1857--Lincoln's Answering Speech--Criticism of Dred
Scott Decision--Kansas Civil War--Buchanan Appoints Walker--Walker's
Letter on Kansas--The Lecompton Constitution--Revolt of Douglas

IX

The Senatorial Contest in Illinois--"House Divided against Itself"
Speech--The Lincoln-Douglas Debates--The Freeport Doctrine--Douglas
Deposed from Chairmanship of Committee on Territories--Benjamin on
Douglas--Lincoln's Popular Majority--Douglas Gains Legislature--Greeley,
Crittenden _et al._--"The Fight Must Go On"--Douglas's Southern
Speeches--Senator Brown's Questions--Lincoln's Warning against Popular
Sovereignty--The War of Pamphlets--Lincoln's Ohio Speeches--The John
Brown Raid--Lincoln's Comment

X

Lincoln's Kansas Speeches--The Cooper Institute Speech--New England
Speeches--The Democratic Schism--Senator Brown's Resolutions--Jefferson
Davis's Resolutions--The Charleston Convention--Majority and Minority
Reports--Cotton State Delegations Secede--Charleston Convention
Adjourns--Democratic Baltimore Convention Splits--Breckinridge
Nominated--Douglas Nominated--Bell Nominated by Union Constitutional
Convention--Chicago Convention--Lincoln's Letters to Pickett and
Judd--The Pivotal States--Lincoln Nominated

XI

Candidates and Platforms--The Political Chances--Decatur Lincoln
Resolution--John Hanks and the Lincoln Rails--The Rail-Splitter
Candidate--The Wide-Awakes--Douglas's Southern Tour--Jefferson Davis's
Address--Fusion--Lincoln at the State House--The Election Result

XII

Lincoln's Cabinet Program--Members from the South--Questions and
Answers--Correspondence with Stephens--Action of Congress--Peace
Convention--Preparation of the Inaugural--Lincoln's Farewell
Address--The Journey to Washington--Lincoln's Midnight Journey

XIII

The Secession Movement--South Carolina Secession--Buchanan's
Neglect--Disloyal Cabinet Members--Washington Central Cabal--Anderson's
Transfer to Sumter--Star of the West--Montgomery Rebellion--Davis and
Stephens--Corner-stone Theory--Lincoln Inaugurated--His Inaugural
Address--Lincoln's Cabinet--The Question of Sumter--Seward's
Memorandum--Lincoln's Answer--Bombardment of Sumter--Anderson's
Capitulation

XIV

President's Proclamation Calling for Seventy-five Regiments--Responses of
the Governors--Maryland and Virginia--The Baltimore Riot--Washington
Isolated--Lincoln Takes the Responsibility--Robert E. Lee--Arrival of the
New York Seventh--Suspension of Habeas Corpus--The Annapolis Route--Butler
in Baltimore--Taney on the Merryman Case--Kentucky--Missouri--Lyon
Captures Camp Jackson--Boonville Skirmish--The Missouri Convention--Gamble
made Governor--The Border States

XV

Davis's Proclamation for Privateers--Lincoln's Proclamation of
Blockade--The Call for Three Years' Volunteers--Southern Military
Preparations--Rebel Capital Moved to Richmond--Virginia, North Carolina,
Tennessee, and Arkansas Admitted to Confederate States--Desertion of
Army and Navy Officers--Union Troops Fortify Virginia Shore of the
Potomac--Concentration at Harper's Ferry--Concentration at Fortress
Monroe and Cairo--English Neutrality--Seward's 21st-of-May
Despatch--Lincoln's Corrections--Preliminary Skirmishes--Forward to
Richmond--Plan of McDowell's Campaign

XVI

Congress--The President's Message--Men and Money Voted--The
Contraband--Dennison Appoints McClellan--Rich Mountain--McDowell--Bull
Run--Patterson's Failure--McClellan at Washington

XVII

General Scott's Plans--Criticized as the "Anaconda"--The Three Fields of
Conflict--Frémont Appointed Major-General--His Military Failures--Battle
of Wilson's Creek--Hunter Ordered to Frémont--Frémont's
Proclamation--President Revokes Frémont's Proclamation--Lincoln's Letter
to Browning--Surrender of Lexington--Frémont Takes the Field--Cameron's
Visit to Frémont--Frémont's Removal

XVIII

Blockade--Hatteras Inlet--Port Royal Captured--The Trent Affair--Lincoln
Suggests Arbitration--Seward's Despatch--McClellan at Washington--Army
of the Potomac--McClellan's Quarrel with Scott--Retirement of
Scott--Lincoln's Memorandum--"All Quiet on the Potomac"--Conditions in
Kentucky--Cameron's Visit to Sherman--East Tennessee--Instructions to
Buell--Buell's Neglect--Halleck in Missouri

XIX

Lincoln Directs Coöperation--Halleck and Buell--Ulysses S.
Grant--Grant's Demonstration--Victory at Mill River--Fort Henry--Fort
Donelson--Buell's Tardiness--Halleck's Activity--Victory of Pea
Ridge--Halleck Receives General Command--Pittsburg Landing--Island No.
10--Halleck's Corinth Campaign--Halleck's Mistakes

XX

The Blockade--Hatteras Inlet--Roanoke Island--Fort Pulaski--_Merrimac_
and _Monitor_--The _Cumberland_ Sunk--The _Congress_ Burned--Battle of
the Ironclads--Flag-Officer Farragut--Forts Jackson and St. Philip--New
Orleans Captured--Farragut at Vicksburg--Farragut's Second Expedition to
Vicksburg--Return to New Orleans

XXI

McClellan's Illness--Lincoln Consults McDowell and Franklin--President's
Plan against Manassas--McClellan's Plan against Richmond--Cameron and
Stanton--President's War Order No. 1--Lincoln's Questions to
McClellan--News from the West--Death of Willie Lincoln--The Harper's
Ferry Fiasco--President's War Order No. 3--The News from Hampton
Roads--Manassas Evacuated--Movement to the Peninsula--Yorktown--The
Peninsula Campaign--Seven Days' Battles--Retreat to Harrison's Landing

XXII

Jackson's Valley Campaign--Lincoln's Visit to Scott--Pope Assigned to
Command--Lee's Attack on McClellan--Retreat to Harrison's
Landing--Seward Sent to New York--Lincoln's Letter to Seward--Lincoln's
Letter to McClellan--Lincoln's Visit to McClellan--Halleck Made
General-in-Chief--Halleck's Visit to McClellan--Withdrawal from
Harrison's Landing--Pope Assumes Command--Second Battle of Bull Run--The
Cabinet Protest--McClellan Ordered to Defend Washington--The Maryland
Campaign--Battle of Antietam--Lincoln visits Antietam--Lincoln's Letter
to McClellan--McClellan Removed from Command

XXIII

Cameron's Report--Lincoln's Letter to Bancroft--Annual Message on
Slavery--The Delaware Experiment--Joint Resolution on Compensated
Abolishment--First Border State Interview--Stevens's Comment--District
of Columbia Abolishment--Committee on Abolishment--Hunter's Order
Revoked--Antislavery Measures of Congress--Second Border State
Interview--Emancipation Proposed and Postponed

XXIV

Criticism of the President for his Action on Slavery--Lincoln's Letters
to Louisiana Friends--Greeley's Open Letter--Mr. Lincoln's
Reply--Chicago Clergymen Urge Emancipation--Lincoln's Answer--Lincoln
Issues Preliminary Proclamation--President Proposes Constitutional
Amendment--Cabinet Considers Final Proclamation--Cabinet Discusses
Admission of West Virginia--Lincoln Signs Edict of Freedom--Lincoln's
Letter to Hodges

XXV

Negro Soldiers--Fort Pillow--Retaliation--Draft--Northern
Democrats--Governor Seymour's Attitude--Draft Riots in New
York--Vallandigham--Lincoln on his Authority to Suspend Writ of Habeas
Corpus--Knights of the Golden Circle--Jacob Thompson in Canada

XXVI

Burnside--Fredericksburg--A Tangle of Cross-Purposes--Hooker Succeeds
Burnside--Lincoln to Hooker--Chancellorsville--Lee's Second
Invasion--Lincoln's Criticisms of Hooker's Plans--Hooker
Relieved--Meade--Gettysburg--Lee's Retreat--Lincoln's Letter to
Meade--Lincoln's Gettysburg Address--Autumn Strategy--The Armies go into
Winter Quarters

XXVII

Buell and Bragg--Perryville--Rosecrans and Murfreesboro--Grant's
Vicksburg Experiments--Grant's May Battles--Siege and Surrender of
Vicksburg--Lincoln to Grant--Rosecrans's March to Chattanooga--Battle of
Chickamauga--Grant at Chattanooga--Battle of Chattanooga--Burnside at
Knoxville--Burnside Repulses Longstreet

XXVIII

Grant Lieutenant-General--Interview with Lincoln--Grant Visits
Sherman--Plan of Campaigns--Lincoln to Grant--From the Wilderness to
Cold Harbor--The Move to City Point--Siege of Petersburg--Early Menaces
Washington--Lincoln under Fire--Sheridan in the Shenandoah Valley

XXIX

Sherman's Meridian Expedition--Capture of Atlanta--Hood Supersedes
Johnston--Hood's Invasion of Tennessee--Franklin and Nashville--Sherman's
March to the Sea--Capture of Savannah--Sherman to Lincoln--Lincoln to
Sherman--Sherman's March through the Carolinas--The Burning of Charleston
and Columbia--Arrival at Goldsboro--Junction with Schofield--Visit to
Grant

XXX

Military Governors--Lincoln's Theory of Reconstruction--Congressional
Election in Louisiana--Letter to Military Governors--Letter to
Shepley--Amnesty Proclamation, December 8, 1863--Instructions to
Banks--Banks's Action in Louisiana--Louisiana Abolishes
Slavery--Arkansas Abolishes Slavery--Reconstruction in
Tennessee--Missouri Emancipation--Lincoln's Letter to Drake--Missouri
Abolishes Slavery--Emancipation in Maryland--Maryland Abolishes Slavery

XXXI

Shaping of the Presidential Campaign--Criticisms of Mr. Lincoln--Chase's
Presidential Ambitions--The Pomeroy Circular--Cleveland
Convention--Attempt to Nominate Grant--Meeting of Baltimore
Convention--Lincoln's Letter to Schurz--Platform of Republican
Convention--Lincoln Renominated--Refuses to Indicate Preference for
Vice-President--Johnson Nominated for Vice-President--Lincoln's Speech
to Committee of Notification--Reference to Mexico in his Letter of
Acceptance--The French in Mexico

XXXII

The Bogus Proclamation--The Wade-Davis Manifesto--Resignation of Mr.
Chase--Fessenden Succeeds Him--The Greeley Peace
Conference--Jaquess-Gilmore Mission--Letter of Raymond--Bad Outlook for
the Election--Mr. Lincoln on the Issues of the Campaign--President's
Secret Memorandum--Meeting of Democratic National Convention--McClellan
Nominated--His Letter of Acceptance--Lincoln Reëlected--His Speech on
Night of Election--The Electoral Vote--Annual Message of December 6,
1864--Resignation of McClellan from the Army

XXXIII

The Thirteenth Amendment--The President's Speech on its Adoption--The
Two Constitutional Amendments of Lincoln's Term--Lincoln on Peace and
Slavery in his Annual Message of December 6, 1864--Blair's Mexican
Project--The Hampton Roads Conference

XXXIV

Blair--Chase Chief Justice--Speed Succeeds Bates--McCulloch Succeeds
Fessenden--Resignation of Mr. Usher--Lincoln's Offer of
$400,000,000--The Second Inaugural--Lincoln's Literary Rank--His Last
Speech

XXXV

Depreciation of Confederate Currency--Rigor of
Conscription--Dissatisfaction with the Confederate Government--Lee
General-in-Chief--J.E. Johnston Reappointed to Oppose Sherman's
March--Value of Slave Property Gone in Richmond--Davis's Recommendation
of Emancipation--Benjamin's Last Despatch to Slidell--Condition of the
Army when Lee took Command--Lee Attempts Negotiations with
Grant--Lincoln's Directions--Lee and Davis Agree upon Line of
Retreat--Assault on Fort Stedman--Five Forks--Evacuation of
Petersburg--Surrender of Richmond--Pursuit of Lee--Surrender of
Lee--Burning of Richmond--Lincoln in Richmond

XXXVI

Lincoln's Interviews with Campbell--Withdraws Authority for Meeting of
Virginia Legislature--Conference of Davis and Johnston at
Greensboro--Johnston Asks for an Armistice--Meeting of Sherman and
Johnston--Their Agreement--Rejected at Washington--Surrender of
Johnston--Surrender of other Confederate Forces--End of the Rebel
Navy--Capture of Jefferson Davis--Surrender of E. Kirby Smith--Number of
Confederates Surrendered and Exchanged--Reduction of Federal Army to a
Peace Footing--Grand Review of the Army

XXXVII

The 14th of April--Celebration at Fort Sumter--Last Cabinet
Meeting--Lincoln's Attitude toward Threats of Assassination--Booth's
Plot--Ford's Theater--Fate of the Assassins--The Mourning Pageant

XXXVIII

Lincoln's Early Environment--Its Effect on his Character--His Attitude
toward Slavery and the Slaveholder--His Schooling in Disappointment--His
Seeming Failures--His Real Successes--The Final Trial--His
Achievements--His Place in History

Index




ABRAHAM LINCOLN



I

Ancestry--Thomas Lincoln and Nancy Hanks--Rock Spring Farm--Lincoln's
Birth--Kentucky Schools--The Journey to Indiana--Pigeon Creek
Settlement--Indiana Schools--Sally Bush Lincoln--Gentryville--Work and
Books--Satires and Sermons--Flatboat Voyage to New Orleans--The Journey
to Illinois


Abraham Lincoln, the sixteenth President of the United States, was born
in a log cabin in the backwoods of Kentucky on the 12th day of February
1809. His father, Thomas Lincoln, was sixth in direct line of descent
from Samuel Lincoln, who emigrated from England to Massachusetts in 1638.
Following the prevailing drift of American settlement, these descendants
had, during a century and a half, successively moved from Massachusetts
to New Jersey, from New Jersey to Pennsylvania, from Pennsylvania to
Virginia, and from Virginia to Kentucky; while collateral branches of the
family eventually made homes in other parts of the West. In Pennsylvania
and Virginia some of them had acquired considerable property and local
prominence.

In the year 1780, Abraham Lincoln, the President's grandfather, was able
to pay into the public treasury of Virginia "one hundred and sixty
pounds, current money," for which he received a warrant, directed to the
"Principal Surveyor of any County within the commonwealth of Virginia,"
to lay off in one or more surveys for Abraham Linkhorn, his heirs or
assigns, the quantity of four hundred acres of land. The error in
spelling the name was a blunder of the clerk who made out the warrant.

With this warrant and his family of five children--Mordecai, Josiah,
Mary, Nancy, and Thomas--he moved to Kentucky, then still a county of
Virginia, in 1780, and began opening a farm. Four years later, while at
work with his three boys in the edge of his clearing, a party of
Indians, concealed in the brush, shot and killed him. Josiah, the second
son, ran to a neighboring fort for assistance; Mordecai, the eldest,
hurried to the cabin for his gun, leaving Thomas, youngest of the
family, a child of six years, by his father. Mordecai had just taken
down his rifle from its convenient resting-place over the door of the
cabin when, turning, he saw an Indian in his war-paint stooping to seize
the child. He took quick aim through a loop-hole, shot, and killed the
savage, at which the little boy also ran to the house, and from this
citadel Mordecai continued firing at the Indians until Josiah brought
help from the fort.

It was doubtless this misfortune which rapidly changed the circumstances
of the family.[1] Kentucky was yet a wild, new country. As compared with
later periods of emigration, settlement was slow and pioneer life a hard
struggle. So it was probably under the stress of poverty, as well as by
the marriage of the older children, that the home was gradually broken
up, and Thomas Lincoln became "even in childhood ... a wandering
laboring boy, and grew up literally without education.... Before he was
grown he passed one year as a hired hand with his uncle Isaac on
Watauga, a branch of the Holston River." Later, he seems to have
undertaken to learn the trade of carpenter in the shop of Joseph Hanks
in Elizabethtown.

 [Footnote 1: By the law of primogeniture, which at that date was
 still unrepealed in Virginia, the family estate went to Mordecai,
 the eldest son.]

When Thomas Lincoln was about twenty-eight years old he married Nancy
Hanks, a niece of his employer, near Beechland, in Washington County.
She was a good-looking young woman of twenty-three, also from Virginia,
and so far superior to her husband in education that she could read and
write, and taught him how to sign his name. Neither one of the young
couple had any money or property; but in those days living was not
expensive, and they doubtless considered his trade a sufficient
provision for the future. He brought her to a little house in
Elizabethtown, where a daughter was born to them the following year.

During the next twelvemonth Thomas Lincoln either grew tired of his
carpenter work, or found the wages he was able to earn insufficient to
meet his growing household expenses. He therefore bought a little farm
on the Big South Fork of Nolin Creek, in what was then Hardin and is now
La Rue County, three miles from Hodgensville, and thirteen miles from
Elizabethtown. Having no means, he of course bought the place on credit,
a transaction not so difficult when we remember that in that early day
there was plenty of land to be bought for mere promises to pay; under
the disadvantage, however, that farms to be had on these terms were
usually of a very poor quality, on which energetic or forehanded men did
not care to waste their labor. It was a kind of land generally known in
the West as "barrens"--rolling upland, with very thin, unproductive
soil. Its momentary usefulness was that it was partly cleared and
cultivated, that an indifferent cabin stood on it ready to be occupied,
and that it had one specially attractive as well as useful feature--a
fine spring of water, prettily situated amid a graceful clump of
foliage, because of which the place was called Rock Spring Farm. The
change of abode was perhaps in some respects an improvement upon
Elizabethtown. To pioneer families in deep poverty, a little farm
offered many more resources than a town lot--space, wood, water, greens
in the spring, berries in the summer, nuts in the autumn, small game
everywhere--and they were fully accustomed to the loss of
companionship. On this farm, and in this cabin, the future President of
the United States was born, on the 12th of February, 1809, and here the
first four years of his childhood were spent.

When Abraham was about four years old the Lincoln home was changed to a
much better farm of two hundred and thirty-eight acres on Knob Creek,
six miles from Hodgensville, bought by Thomas Lincoln, again on credit,
for the promise to pay one hundred and eighteen pounds. A year later he
conveyed two hundred acres of it by deed to a new purchaser. In this new
home the family spent four years more, and while here Abraham and his
sister Sarah began going to A B C schools. Their first teacher was
Zachariah Riney, who taught near the Lincoln cabin; the next, Caleb
Hazel, at a distance of about four miles.

Thomas Lincoln was evidently one of those easy-going, good-natured men
who carry the virtue of contentment to an extreme. He appears never to
have exerted himself much beyond the attainment of a necessary
subsistence. By a little farming and occasional jobs at his trade, he
seems to have supplied his family with food and clothes. There is no
record that he made any payment on either of his farms. The fever of
westward emigration was in the air, and, listening to glowing accounts
of rich lands and newer settlements in Indiana, he had neither valuable
possessions nor cheerful associations to restrain the natural impulse of
every frontiersman to "move." In this determination his carpenter's
skill served him a good purpose, and made the enterprise not only
feasible but reasonably cheap. In the fall of 1816 he built himself a
small flatboat, which he launched at the mouth of Knob Creek, half a
mile from his cabin, on the waters of the Rolling Fork. This stream
would float him to Salt River, and Salt River to the Ohio. He also
thought to combine a little speculation with his undertaking. Part of
his personal property he traded for four hundred gallons of whisky;
then, loading the rest on his boat with his carpenter's tools and the
whisky, he made the voyage, with the help of the current, down the
Rolling Fork to Salt River, down Salt River to the Ohio, and down the
Ohio to Thompson's Ferry, in Perry County, on the Indiana shore. The
boat capsized once on the way, but he saved most of the cargo.

Sixteen miles out from the river he found a location in the forest which
suited him. Since his boat would not float up-stream, he sold it, left
his property with a settler, and trudged back home to Kentucky, all the
way on foot, to bring his wife and the two children--Sarah, nine years
old, and Abraham, seven. Another son had been born to them some years
before, but had died when only three days old. This time the trip to
Indiana was made with the aid of two horses, used by the wife and
children for riding and to carry their little equipage for camping at
night by the way. In a straight line, the distance is about fifty miles;
but it was probably doubled by the very few roads it was possible to
follow.

Having reached the Ohio and crossed to where he had left his goods on
the Indiana side, he hired a wagon, which carried them and his family
the remaining sixteen miles through the forest to the spot he had
chosen, which in due time became the Lincoln farm. It was a piece of
heavily timbered land, one and a half miles east of what has since
become the village of Gentryville, in Spencer County. The lateness of
the autumn compelled him to provide a shelter as quickly as possible,
and he built what is known on the frontier as a half-faced camp, about
fourteen feet square. This structure differed from a cabin in that it
was closed on only three sides, and open to the weather on the fourth.
It was usual to build the fire in front of the open side, and the
necessity of providing a chimney was thus avoided. He doubtless intended
it for a mere temporary shelter, and as such it would have sufficed for
good weather in the summer season. But it was a rude provision for the
winds and snows of an Indiana winter. It illustrates Thomas Lincoln's
want of energy, that the family remained housed in this primitive camp
for nearly a whole year. He must, however, not be too hastily blamed for
his dilatory improvement. It is not likely that he remained altogether
idle. A more substantial cabin was probably begun, and, besides, there
was the heavy work of clearing away the timber--that is, cutting down
the large trees, chopping them into suitable lengths, and rolling them
together into great log-heaps to be burned, or splitting them into rails
to fence the small field upon which he managed to raise a patch of corn
and other things during the ensuing summer.

Thomas Lincoln's arrival was in the autumn of 1816. That same winter
Indiana was admitted to the Union as a State. There were as yet no roads
worthy of the name to or from the settlement formed by himself and seven
or eight neighbors at various distances. The village of Gentryville was
not even begun. There was no sawmill to saw lumber. Breadstuff could be
had only by sending young Abraham, on horseback, seven miles, with a bag
of corn to be ground on a hand grist-mill. In the course of two or three
years a road from Corydon to Evansville was laid out, running past the
Lincoln farm; and perhaps two or three years afterward another from
Rockport to Bloomington crossing the former. This gave rise to
Gentryville. James Gentry entered the land at the cross-roads. Gideon
Romine opened a small store, and their joint efforts succeeded in
getting a post-office established from which the village gradually grew.
For a year after his arrival Thomas Lincoln remained a mere squatter.
Then he entered the quarter-section (one hundred and sixty acres) on
which he opened his farm, and made some payments on his entry, but only
enough in eleven years to obtain a patent for one half of it.

About the time that he moved into his new cabin, relatives and friends
followed from Kentucky, and some of them in turn occupied the half-faced
camp. In the ensuing autumn much sickness prevailed in the Pigeon Creek
settlement. It was thirty miles to the nearest doctor, and several
persons died, among them Nancy Hanks Lincoln, the mother of young
Abraham. The mechanical skill of Thomas was called upon to make the
coffins, the necessary lumber for which had to be cut with a whip-saw.

The death of Mrs. Lincoln was a serious loss to her husband and
children. Abraham's sister Sarah was only eleven years old, and the
tasks and cares of the little household were altogether too heavy for
her years and experience. Nevertheless, they struggled on bravely
through the winter and next summer, but in the autumn of 1819 Thomas
Lincoln went back to Kentucky and married Sally Bush Johnston, whom he
had known and, it is said, courted when she was merely Sally Bush.
Johnston, to whom she was married about the time Lincoln married Nancy
Hanks, had died, leaving her with three children. She came of a better
station in life than Thomas, and is represented as a woman of uncommon
energy and thrift, possessing excellent qualities both of head and
heart. The household goods which she brought to the Lincoln home in
Indiana filled a four-horse wagon. Not only were her own three children
well clothed and cared for, but she was able at once to provide little
Abraham and Sarah with home comforts to which they had been strangers
during the whole of their young lives. Under her example and urging,
Thomas at once supplied the yet unfinished cabin with floor, door, and
windows, and existence took on a new aspect for all the inmates. Under
her management and control, all friction and jealousy was avoided
between the two sets of children, and contentment, if not happiness,
reigned in the little cabin.

The new stepmother quickly perceived the superior aptitudes and
abilities of Abraham. She became very fond of him, and in every way
encouraged his marked inclination to study and improve himself. The
opportunities for this were meager enough. Mr. Lincoln himself has drawn
a vivid outline of the situation:

"It was a wild region, with many bears and other wild animals still in
the woods. There I grew up. There were some schools so called, but no
qualification was ever required of a teacher beyond readin', writin',
and cipherin' to the Rule of Three. If a straggler supposed to
understand Latin happened to sojourn in the neighborhood, he was looked
upon as a wizard. There was absolutely nothing to excite ambition for
education."

As Abraham was only in his eighth year when he left Kentucky, the little
beginnings he had learned in the schools kept by Riney and Hazel in that
State must have been very slight--probably only his alphabet, or
possibly three or four pages of Webster's "Elementary Spelling Book." It
is likely that the multiplication table was as yet an unfathomed
mystery, and that he could not write or read more than the words he
spelled. There is no record at what date he was able again to go to
school in Indiana. Some of his schoolmates think it was in his tenth
year, or soon after he fell under the care of his stepmother. The
school-house was a low cabin of round logs, a mile and a half from the
Lincoln home, with split logs or "puncheons" for a floor, split logs
roughly leveled with an ax and set up on legs for benches, and a log cut
out of one end and the space filled in with squares of greased paper for
window panes. The main light in such primitive halls of learning was
admitted by the open door. It was a type of school building common in
the early West, in which many a statesman gained the first rudiments of
knowledge. Very often Webster's "Elementary Spelling Book" was the only
text-book. Abraham's first Indiana school was probably held five years
before Gentryville was located and a store established there. Until then
it was difficult, if not impossible, to obtain books, slates, pencils,
pen, ink, and paper, and their use was limited to settlers who had
brought them when they came. It is reasonable to infer that the Lincoln
family had no such luxuries, and, as the Pigeon Creek settlement
numbered only eight or ten families there must have been very few pupils
to attend this first school. Nevertheless, it is worthy of special note
that even under such difficulties and limitations, the American thirst
for education planted a school-house on the very forefront of every
settlement.

Abraham's second school in Indiana was held about the time he was
fourteen years old, and the third in his seventeenth year. By this time
he probably had better teachers and increased facilities, though with
the disadvantage of having to walk four or five miles to the
school-house. He learned to write, and was provided with pen, ink, and a
copy-book, and probably a very limited supply of writing-paper, for
facsimiles have been printed of several scraps and fragments upon which
he had carefully copied tables, rules, and sums from his arithmetic,
such as those of long measure, land measure, and dry measure, and
examples in multiplication and compound division. All this indicates
that he pursued his studies with a very unusual purpose and
determination, not only to understand them at the moment, but to imprint
them indelibly upon his memory, and even to regain them in visible form
for reference when the school-book might no longer be in his hands or
possession.

Mr. Lincoln has himself written that these three different schools were
"kept successively by Andrew Crawford, ---- Swaney, and Azel W. Dorsey."
Other witnesses state the succession somewhat differently. The important
fact to be gleaned from what we learn about Mr. Lincoln's schooling is
that the instruction given him by these five different teachers--two in
Kentucky and three in Indiana, in short sessions of attendance scattered
over a period of nine years--made up in all less than a twelvemonth.
He said of it in 1860, "Abraham now thinks that the aggregate of all his
schooling did not amount to one year." This distribution of the tuition
he received was doubtless an advantage. Had it all been given him at his
first school in Indiana, it would probably not have carried him half
through Webster's "Elementary Spelling Book." The lazy or indifferent
pupils who were his schoolmates doubtless forgot what was taught them at
one time before they had opportunity at another; but to the exceptional
character of Abraham, these widely separated fragments of instruction
were precious steps to self-help, of which he made unremitting use.

It is the concurrent testimony of his early companions that he employed
all his spare moments in keeping on with some one of his studies. His
stepmother says: "Abe read diligently.... He read every book he could
lay his hands on; and when he came across a passage that struck him, he
would write it down on boards, if he had no paper, and keep it there
until he did get paper. Then he would rewrite it, look at it, repeat it.
He had a copy-book, a kind of scrap-book, in which he put down all
things, and thus preserved them." There is no mention that either he or
other pupils had slates and slate-pencils to use at school or at home,
but he found a ready substitute in pieces of board. It is stated that he
occupied his long evenings at home doing sums on the fire-shovel. Iron
fire-shovels were a rarity among pioneers; they used, instead a broad,
thin clapboard with one end narrowed to a handle. In cooking by the open
fire, this domestic implement was of the first necessity to arrange
piles of live coals on the hearth, over which they set their "skillet"
and "oven," upon the lids of which live coals were also heaped.

Upon such a wooden shovel Abraham was able to work his sums by the
flickering firelight. If he had no pencil, he could use charcoal, and
probably did so. When it was covered with figures he would take a
drawing-knife, shave it off clean, and begin again. Under these various
disadvantages, and by the help of such troublesome expedients, Abraham
Lincoln worked his way to so much of an education as placed him far
ahead of his schoolmates, and quickly abreast of the acquirements of his
various teachers. The field from which he could glean knowledge was very
limited, though he diligently borrowed every book in the neighborhood.
The list is a short one--"Robinson Crusoe," Aesop's "Fables," Bunyan's
"Pilgrim's Progress," Weems's "Life of Washington," and a "History of
the United States." When he had exhausted other books, he even
resolutely attacked the Revised Statutes of Indiana, which Dave Turnham,
the constable, had in daily use and permitted him to come to his house
and read.

It needs to be borne in mind that all this effort at self-education
extended from first to last over a period of twelve or thirteen years,
during which he was also performing hard manual labor, and proves a
degree of steady, unflinching perseverance in a line of conduct that
brings into strong relief a high aim and the consciousness of abundant
intellectual power. He was not permitted to forget that he was on an
uphill path, a stern struggle with adversity. The leisure hours which he
was able to devote to his reading, his penmanship, and his arithmetic
were by no means overabundant. Writing of his father's removal from
Kentucky to Indiana, he says:

"He settled in an unbroken forest, and the clearing away of surplus wood
was the great task ahead. Abraham, though very young, was large of his
age, and had an ax put into his hands at once; and from that till within
his twenty-third year he was almost constantly handling that most useful
instrument--less, of course, in plowing and harvesting seasons."

John Hanks mentions the character of his work a little more in detail.
"He and I worked barefoot, grubbed it, plowed, mowed, and cradled
together; plowed corn, gathered it, and shucked corn." The sum of it all
is that from his boyhood until after he was of age, most of his time was
spent in the hard and varied muscular labor of the farm and the forest,
sometimes on his father's place, sometimes as a hired hand for other
pioneers. In this very useful but commonplace occupation he had,
however, one advantage. He was not only very early in his life a tall,
strong country boy, but as he grew up he soon became a tall, strong,
sinewy man. He early attained the unusual height of six feet four
inches, with arms of proportionate length. This gave him a degree of
power and facility as an ax-man which few had or were able to acquire.
He was therefore usually able to lead his fellows in efforts of both
muscle and mind. He performed the tasks of his daily labor and mastered
the lessons of his scanty schooling with an ease and rapidity they were
unable to attain.

Twice during his life in Indiana this ordinary routine was somewhat
varied. When he was sixteen, while working for a man who lived at the
mouth of Anderson's Creek, it was part of his duty to manage a
ferry-boat which transported passengers across the Ohio River. It was
doubtless this which three years later brought him a new experience,
that he himself related in these words:

"When he was nineteen, still residing in Indiana, he made his first
trip upon a flatboat to New Orleans. He was a hired hand merely, and he
and a son of the owner, without other assistance, made the trip. The
nature of part of the 'cargo load,' as it was called, made it necessary
for them to linger and trade along the sugar-coast, and one night they
were attacked by seven negroes with intent to kill and rob them. They
were hurt some in the mêlée, but succeeded in driving the negroes from
the boat, and then 'cut cable,' 'weighed anchor,' and left."

This commercial enterprise was set on foot by Mr. Gentry, the founder of
Gentryville. The affair shows us that Abraham had gained an enviable
standing in the village as a man of honesty, skill, and judgment--one
who could be depended on to meet such emergencies as might arise in
selling their bacon and other produce to the cotton-planters along the
shores of the lower Mississippi.

By this time Abraham's education was well advanced. His handwriting, his
arithmetic, and his general intelligence were so good that he had
occasionally been employed to help in the Gentryville store, and Gentry
thus knew by personal test that he was entirely capable of assisting his
son Allen in the trading expedition to New Orleans. For Abraham, on the
other hand, it was an event which must have opened up wide vistas of
future hope and ambition. Allen Gentry probably was nominal supercargo
and steersman, but we may easily surmise that Lincoln, as the "bow oar,"
carried his full half of general responsibility. For this service the
elder Gentry paid him eight dollars a month and his passage home on a
steamboat. It was the future President's first eager look into the wide,
wide world.

Abraham's devotion to his books and his sums stands forth in more
striking light from the fact that his habits differed from those of most
frontier boys in one important particular. Almost every youth of the
backwoods early became a habitual hunter and superior marksman. The
Indiana woods were yet swarming with game, and the larder of every cabin
depended largely upon this great storehouse of wild meat.[2] The Pigeon
Creek settlement was especially fortunate on this point. There was in
the neighborhood of the Lincoln home what was known in the West as a
deer-lick--that is, there existed a feeble salt-spring, which
impregnated the soil in its vicinity or created little pools of brackish
water--and various kinds of animals, particularly deer, resorted there
to satisfy their natural craving for salt by drinking from these or
licking the moist earth. Hunters took advantage of this habit, and one
of their common customs was to watch in the dusk or at night, and secure
their approaching prey by an easy shot. Skill with the rifle and success
in the chase were points of friendly emulation. In many localities the
boy or youth who shot a squirrel in any part of the animal except its
head became the butt of the jests of his companions and elders. Yet,
under such conditions and opportunities Abraham was neither a hunter nor
a marksman. He tells us:

"A few days before the completion of his eighth year, in the absence of
his father, a flock of wild turkeys approached the new log cabin, and
Abraham, with a rifle gun, standing inside, shot through a crack and
killed one of them. He has never since pulled a trigger on any larger
game."

 [Footnote 2: Franklin points out how much this resource of the
 early Americans contributed to their spirit of independence by
 saying:

 "I can retire cheerfully with my little family into the boundless
 woods of America, which are sure to afford freedom and subsistence
 to any man who can bait a hook or pull a trigger."

 (See "The Century Magazine," "Franklin as a Diplomatist," October,
 1899, p. 888.)]

The hours which other boys spent in roaming the woods or lying in ambush
at the deer-lick, he preferred to devote to his effort at mental
improvement. It can hardly be claimed that he did this from calculating
ambition. It was a native intellectual thirst, the significance of which
he did not himself yet understand. Such exceptional characteristics
manifested themselves only in a few matters. In most particulars he grew
up as the ordinary backwoods boy develops into the youth and man. As he
was subjected to their usual labors, so also he was limited to their
usual pastimes and enjoyments.

The varied amusements common to our day were not within their reach. The
period of the circus, the political speech, and the itinerant show had
not yet come. Schools, as we have seen, and probably meetings or church
services, were irregular, to be had only at long intervals. Primitive
athletic games and commonplace talk, enlivened by frontier jests and
stories, formed the sum of social intercourse when half a dozen or a
score of settlers of various ages came together at a house-raising or
corn-husking, or when mere chance brought them at the same time to the
post-office or the country store. On these occasions, however, Abraham
was, according to his age, always able to contribute his full share or
more. Most of his natural aptitudes equipped him especially to play his
part well. He had quick intelligence, ready sympathy, a cheerful
temperament, a kindling humor, a generous and helpful spirit. He was
both a ready talker and appreciative listener. By virtue of his tall
stature and unusual strength of sinew and muscle, he was from the
beginning a leader in all athletic games; by reason of his studious
habits and his extraordinarily retentive memory he quickly became the
best story-teller among his companions. Even the slight training he
gained from his studies greatly quickened his perceptions and broadened
and steadied the strong reasoning faculty with which nature had endowed
him.

As the years of his youth passed by, his less gifted comrades learned to
accept his judgments and to welcome his power to entertain and instruct
them. On his own part, he gradually learned to write not merely with the
hand, but also with the mind--to think. It was an easy transition for
him from remembering the jingle of a commonplace rhyme to the
constructing of a doggerel verse, and he did not neglect the opportunity
of practising his penmanship in such impromptus. Tradition also relates
that he added to his list of stories and jokes humorous imitations from
the sermons of eccentric preachers. But tradition has very likely both
magnified and distorted these alleged exploits of his satire and
mimicry. All that can be said of them is that his youth was marked by
intellectual activity far beyond that of his companions.

It is an interesting coincidence that nine days before the birth of
Abraham Lincoln Congress passed the act to organize the Territory of
Illinois, which his future life and career were destined to render so
illustrious. Another interesting coincidence may be found in the fact
that in the same year (1818) in which Congress definitely fixed the
number of stars and stripes in the national flag, Illinois was admitted
as a State to the Union. The Star of Empire was moving westward at an
accelerating speed. Alabama was admitted in 1819, Maine in 1820,
Missouri in 1821. Little by little the line of frontier settlement was
pushing itself toward the Mississippi. No sooner had the pioneer built
him a cabin and opened his little farm, than during every summer
canvas-covered wagons wound their toilsome way over the new-made roads
into the newer wilderness, while his eyes followed them with wistful
eagerness. Thomas Lincoln and his Pigeon Creek relatives and neighbors
could not forever withstand the contagion of this example, and at length
they yielded to the irrepressible longing by a common impulse. Mr.
Lincoln writes:

"March 1, 1830, Abraham having just completed his twenty-first year, his
father and family, with the families of the two daughters and
sons-in-law of his stepmother, left the old homestead in Indiana and
came to Illinois. Their mode of conveyance was wagons drawn by ox-teams,
and Abraham drove one of the teams. They reached the county of Macon,
and stopped there some time within the same month of March. His father
and family settled a new place on the north side of the Sangamon River,
at the junction of the timber land and prairie, about ten miles westerly
from Decatur. Here they built a log cabin, into which they removed, and
made sufficient of rails to fence ten acres of ground, fenced and broke
the ground, and raised a crop of sown corn upon it the same year.... The
sons-in-law were temporarily settled in other places in the county. In
the autumn all hands were greatly afflicted with ague and fever, to
which they had not been used, and by which they were greatly
discouraged, so much so that they determined on leaving the county. They
remained, however, through the succeeding winter, which was the winter
of the very celebrated 'deep snow' of Illinois."




II

Flatboat--New Salem--Election Clerk--Store and Mill--Kirkham's
"Grammar"--"Sangamo Journal"--The Talisman--Lincoln's Address, March 9,
1832--Black Hawk War--Lincoln Elected Captain--Mustered out May 27,
1832--Reënlisted in Independent Spy Battalion--Finally Mustered out, June
16, 1832--Defeated for the Legislature--Blacksmith or Lawyer?--The
Lincoln-Berry Store--Appointed Postmaster, May 7, 1833--National Politics


The life of Abraham Lincoln, or that part of it which will interest
readers for all future time, properly begins in March, 1831, after the
winter of the "deep snow." According to frontier custom, being then
twenty-one years old, he left his father's cabin to make his own fortune
in the world. A man named Denton Offutt, one of a class of local traders
and speculators usually found about early Western settlements, had
probably heard something of young Lincoln's Indiana history,
particularly that he had made a voyage on a flatboat from Indiana to New
Orleans, and that he was strong, active, honest, and generally, as would
be expressed in Western phrase, "a smart young fellow." He was therefore
just the sort of man Offutt needed for one of his trading enterprises,
and Mr. Lincoln himself relates somewhat in detail how Offutt engaged
him and the beginning of the venture:

"Abraham, together with his stepmother's son, John D. Johnston, and
John Hanks, yet residing in Macon County, hired themselves to Denton
Offutt to take a flatboat from Beardstown, Illinois [on the Illinois
River], to New Orleans; and for that purpose were to join
him--Offutt--at Springfield, Illinois, so soon as the snow should go
off. When it did go off, which was about the first of March, 1831, the
county was so flooded as to make traveling by land impracticable, to
obviate which difficulty they purchased a large canoe, and came down the
Sangamon River in it. This is the time and the manner of Abraham's first
entrance into Sangamon County. They found Offutt at Springfield, but
learned from him that he had failed in getting a boat at Beardstown.
This led to their hiring themselves to him for twelve dollars per month
each, and getting the timber out of the trees and building a boat at Old
Sangamon town on the Sangamon River, seven miles northwest of
Springfield, which boat they took to New Orleans, substantially upon the
old contract."

It needs here to be recalled that Lincoln's father was a carpenter, and
that Abraham had no doubt acquired considerable skill in the use of
tools during his boyhood and a practical knowledge of the construction
of flatboats during his previous New Orleans trip, sufficient to enable
him with confidence to undertake this task in shipbuilding. From the
after history of both Johnston and Hanks, we know that neither of them
was gifted with skill or industry, and it becomes clear that Lincoln was
from the first leader of the party, master of construction, and captain
of the craft.

It took some time to build the boat, and before it was finished the
Sangamon River had fallen so that the new craft stuck midway across the
dam at Rutledge's Mill, at New Salem, a village of fifteen or twenty
houses. The inhabitants came down to the bank, and exhibited great
interest in the fate of the boat, which, with its bow in the air and its
stern under water, was half bird and half fish, and they probably
jestingly inquired of the young captain whether he expected to dive or
to fly to New Orleans. He was, however, equal to the occasion. He bored
a hole in the bottom of the boat at the bow, and rigged some sort of
lever or derrick to lift the stern, so that the water she had taken in
behind ran out in front, enabling her to float over the partly submerged
dam; and this feat, in turn, caused great wonderment in the crowd at the
novel expedient of bailing a boat by boring a hole in her bottom.

This exploit of naval engineering fully established Lincoln's fame at
New Salem, and grounded him so firmly in the esteem of his employer
Offutt that the latter, already looking forward to his future
usefulness, at once engaged him to come back to New Salem, after his New
Orleans voyage, to act as his clerk in a store.

Once over the dam and her cargo reloaded, partly there and partly at
Beardstown, the boat safely made the remainder of her voyage to New
Orleans; and, returning by steamer to St. Louis, Lincoln and Johnston
(Hanks had turned back from St. Louis) continued on foot to Illinois,
Johnston remaining at the family home, which had meanwhile been removed
from Macon to Coles County, and Lincoln going to his employer and
friends at New Salem. This was in July or August, 1831. Neither Offutt
nor his goods had yet arrived, and during his waiting he had a chance to
show the New Salemites another accomplishment. An election was to be
held, and one of the clerks was sick and failed to come. Scribes were
not plenty on the frontier, and Mentor Graham, the clerk who was
present, looking around for a properly qualified colleague, noticed
Lincoln, and asked him if he could write, to which he answered, in local
idiom, that he "could make a few rabbit tracks," and was thereupon
immediately inducted into his first office. He performed his duties not
only to the general satisfaction, but so as to interest Graham, who was
a schoolmaster, and afterward made himself very useful to Lincoln.

Offutt finally arrived with a miscellaneous lot of goods, which Lincoln
opened and put in order in a room that a former New Salem storekeeper
was just ready to vacate, and whose remnant stock Offutt also purchased.
Trade was evidently not brisk at New Salem, for the commercial zeal of
Offutt led him to increase his venture by renting the Rutledge and
Cameron mill, on whose historic dam the flatboat had stuck. For a while
the charge of the mill was added to Lincoln's duties, until another
clerk was engaged to help him. There is likewise good evidence that in
addition to his duties at the store and the mill, Lincoln made himself
generally useful--that he cut down trees and split rails enough to make
a large hog-pen adjoining the mill, a proceeding quite natural when we
remember that his hitherto active life and still growing muscles
imperatively demanded the exercise which measuring calico or weighing
out sugar and coffee failed to supply.

We know from other incidents that he was possessed of ample bodily
strength. In frontier life it is not only needed for useful labor of
many kinds, but is also called upon to aid in popular amusement. There
was a settlement in the neighborhood of New Salem called Clary's Grove,
where lived a group of restless, rollicking backwoodsmen with a strong
liking for various forms of frontier athletics and rough practical
jokes. In the progress of American settlement there has always been a
time, whether the frontier was in New England or Pennsylvania or
Kentucky, or on the banks of the Mississippi, when the champion wrestler
held some fraction of the public consideration accorded to the victor in
the Olympic games of Greece. Until Lincoln came, Jack Armstrong was the
champion wrestler of Clary's Grove and New Salem, and picturesque
stories are told how the neighborhood talk, inflamed by Offutt's fulsome
laudation of his clerk, made Jack Armstrong feel that his fame was in
danger. Lincoln put off the encounter as long as he could, and when the
wrestling match finally came off neither could throw the other. The
bystanders became satisfied that they were equally matched in strength
and skill, and the cool courage which Lincoln manifested throughout the
ordeal prevented the usual close of such incidents with a fight. Instead
of becoming chronic enemies and leaders of a neighborhood feud,
Lincoln's self-possession and good temper turned the contest into the
beginning of a warm and lasting friendship.

If Lincoln's muscles were at times hungry for work, not less so was his
mind. He was already instinctively feeling his way to his destiny when,
in conversation with Mentor Graham, the schoolmaster, he indicated his
desire to use some of his spare moments to increase his education, and
confided to him his "notion to study English grammar." It was entirely
in the nature of things that Graham should encourage this mental
craving, and tell him: "If you expect to go before the public in any
capacity, I think it the best thing you can do." Lincoln said that if he
had a grammar he would begin at once. Graham was obliged to confess that
there was no such book at New Salem, but remembered that there was one
at Vaner's, six miles away. Promptly after breakfast the next morning
Lincoln walked to Vaner's and procured the precious volume, and,
probably with Graham's occasional help, found no great difficulty in
mastering its contents. While tradition does not mention any other study
begun at that time, we may fairly infer that, slight as may have been
Graham's education, he must have had other books from which, together
with his friendly advice, Lincoln's intellectual hunger derived further
stimulus and nourishment.

In his duties at the store and his work at the mill, in his study of
Kirkham's "Grammar," and educational conversations with Mentor Graham,
in the somewhat rude but frank and hearty companionship of the citizens
of New Salem and the exuberant boys of Clary's Grove, Lincoln's life for
the second half of the year 1831 appears not to have been eventful, but
was doubtless more comfortable and as interesting as had been his
flatboat building and New Orleans voyage during the first half. He was
busy in useful labor, and, though he had few chances to pick up scraps
of schooling, was beginning to read deeply in that book of human nature,
the profound knowledge of which rendered him such immense service in
after years.

The restlessness and ambition of the village of New Salem was many times
multiplied in the restlessness and ambition of Springfield, fifteen or
twenty miles away, which, located approximately near the geographical
center of Illinois, was already beginning to crave, if not yet to feel,
its future destiny as the capital of the State. In November of the same
year that aspiring town produced the first number of its weekly
newspaper, the "Sangamo Journal," and in its columns we begin to find
recorded historical data. Situated in a region of alternating spaces of
prairie and forest, of attractive natural scenery and rich soil, it was
nevertheless at a great disadvantage in the means of commercial
transportation. Lying sixty miles from Beardstown, the nearest landing
on the Illinois River, the peculiarities of soil, climate, and primitive
roads rendered travel and land carriage extremely difficult--often
entirely impossible--for nearly half of every year. The very first
number of the "Sangamo Journal" sounded its strongest note on the then
leading tenet of the Whig party--internal improvements by the general
government, and active politics to secure them. In later numbers we
learn that a regular Eastern mail had not been received for three weeks.
The tide of immigration which was pouring into Illinois is illustrated
in a tabular statement on the commerce of the Illinois River, showing
that the steamboat arrivals at Beardstown had risen from one each in the
years 1828 and 1829, and only four in 1830, to thirty-two during the
year 1831. This naturally directed the thoughts of travelers and traders
to some better means of reaching the river landing than the frozen or
muddy roads and impassable creeks and sloughs of winter and spring. The
use of the Sangamon River, flowing within five miles of Springfield and
emptying itself into the Illinois ten or fifteen miles from Beardstown,
seemed for the present the only solution of the problem, and a public
meeting was called to discuss the project. The deep snows of the winter
of 1830-31 abundantly filled the channels of that stream, and the winter
of 1831-32 substantially repeated its swelling floods. Newcomers in that
region were therefore warranted in drawing the inference that it might
remain navigable for small craft. Public interest on the topic was
greatly heightened when one Captain Bogue, commanding a small steamer
then at Cincinnati, printed a letter in the "Journal" of January 26,
1832, saying: "I intend to try to ascend the river [Sangamo] immediately
on the breaking up of the ice." It was well understood that the chief
difficulty would be that the short turns in the channels were liable to
be obstructed by a gorge of driftwood and the limbs and trunks of
overhanging trees. To provide for this, Captain Bogue's letter added: "I
should be met at the mouth of the river by ten or twelve men, having
axes with long handles under the direction of some experienced man. I
shall deliver freight from St. Louis at the landing on the Sangamo River
opposite the town of Springfield for thirty-seven and a half cents per
hundred pounds." The "Journal" of February 16 contained an advertisement
that the "splendid upper-cabin steamer _Talisman_" would leave for
Springfield, and the paper of March 1 announced her arrival at St. Louis
on the 22d of February with a full cargo. In due time the citizen
committee appointed by the public meeting met the _Talisman_ at the
mouth of the Sangamon, and the "Journal" of March 29 announced with
great flourish that the "steamboat _Talisman_, of one hundred and fifty
tons burden, arrived at the Portland landing opposite this town on
Saturday last." There was great local rejoicing over this demonstration
that the Sangamon was really navigable, and the "Journal" proclaimed
with exultation that Springfield "could no longer be considered an
inland town."

President Jackson's first term was nearing its close, and the Democratic
party was preparing to reëlect him. The Whigs, on their part, had held
their first national convention in December, 1831, and nominated Henry
Clay to dispute the succession. This nomination, made almost a year in
advance of the election, indicates an unusual degree of political
activity in the East, and voters in the new State of Illinois were
fired with an equal party zeal. During the months of January and
February, 1832, no less than six citizens of Sangamon County announced
themselves in the "Sangamo Journal" as candidates for the State
legislature, the election for which was not to occur until August; and
the "Journal" of March 15 printed a long letter, addressed "To the
People of Sangamon County," under date of the ninth, signed A. Lincoln,
and beginning:

"FELLOW-CITIZENS: Having become a candidate for the honorable office of
one of your representatives in the next general assembly of this State,
in accordance with an established custom and the principles of true
republicanism, it becomes my duty to make known to you, the people whom
I propose to represent, my sentiments with regard to local affairs." He
then takes up and discusses in an eminently methodical and practical way
the absorbing topic of the moment--the Whig doctrine of internal
improvements and its local application, the improvement of the Sangamon
River. He mentions that meetings have been held to propose the
construction of a railroad, and frankly acknowledges that "no other
improvement that reason will justify us in hoping for can equal in
utility the railroad," but contends that its enormous cost precludes any
such hope, and that, therefore, "the improvement of the Sangamon River
is an object much better suited to our infant resources." Relating his
experience in building and navigating his flatboat, and his observation
of the stage of the water since then, he draws the very plausible
conclusion that by straightening its channel and clearing away its
driftwood the stream can be made navigable "to vessels of from
twenty-five to thirty tons burden for at least one half of all common
years, and to vessels of much greater burden a part of the time," His
letter very modestly touches a few other points of needed legislation--a
law against usury, laws to promote education, and amendments to estray
and road laws. The main interest for us, however, is in the frank avowal
of his personal ambition.

"Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition. Whether it be true or
not, I can say, for one, that I have no other so great as that of being
truly esteemed of my fellow-men by rendering myself worthy of their
esteem. How far I shall succeed in gratifying this ambition is yet to be
developed. I am young, and unknown to many of you. I was born, and have
ever remained, in the most humble walks of life. I have no wealthy or
popular relations or friends to recommend me. My case is thrown
exclusively upon the independent voters of the country, and if elected
they will have conferred a favor upon me for which I shall be
unremitting in my labors to compensate. But if the good people in their
wisdom shall see fit to keep me in the background, I have been too
familiar with disappointments to be very much chagrined."

This written and printed address gives us an accurate measure of the man
and the time. When he wrote this document he was twenty-three years old.
He had been in the town and county only about nine months of actual
time. As Sangamon County covered an estimated area of twenty-one hundred
and sixty square miles, he could know but little of either it or its
people. How dared a "friendless, uneducated boy, working on a flatboat
at twelve dollars a month," with "no wealthy or popular friends to
recommend" him, aspire to the honors and responsibilities of a
legislator? The only answer is that he was prompted by that intuition of
genius, that consciousness of powers which justify their claims by their
achievements. When we scan the circumstances more closely, we find
distinct evidence of some reason for his confidence. Relatively
speaking, he was neither uneducated nor friendless. His acquirements
were already far beyond the simple elements of reading, writing, and
ciphering. He wrote a good, clear, serviceable hand; he could talk well
and reason cogently. The simple, manly style of his printed address
fully equals in literary ability that of the average collegian in the
twenties. His migration from Indiana to Illinois and his two voyages to
New Orleans had given him a glimpse of the outside world. His natural
logic readily grasped the significance of the railroad as a new factor
in transportation, although the first American locomotive had been built
only one year, and ten to fifteen years were yet to elapse before the
first railroad train was to run in Illinois.

One other motive probably had its influence. He tells us that Offutt's
business was failing, and his quick judgment warned him that he would
soon be out of a job as clerk. This, however, could be only a secondary
reason for announcing himself as a candidate, for the election was not
to occur till August, and even if he were elected there would be neither
service nor salary till the coming winter. His venture into politics
must therefore be ascribed to the feeling which he so frankly announced
in his letter, his ambition to become useful to his fellow-men--the
impulse that throughout history has singled out the great leaders of
mankind.

In this particular instance a crisis was also at hand, calculated to
develop and utilize the impulse. Just about a month after the
publication of Lincoln's announcement the "Sangamo Journal" of April 19
printed an official call from Governor Reynolds, directed to General
Neale of the Illinois militia, to organize six hundred volunteers of his
brigade for military service in a campaign against the Indians under
Black Hawk, the war chief of the Sacs, who, in defiance of treaties and
promises, had formed a combination with other tribes during the winter,
and had now crossed back from the west to the east side of the
Mississippi River with the determination to reoccupy their old homes in
the Rock River country toward the northern end of the State.

In the memoranda which Mr. Lincoln furnished for a campaign biography,
he thus relates what followed the call for troops:

"Abraham joined a volunteer company, and, to his own surprise, was
elected captain of it. He says he has not since had any success in life
which gave him so much satisfaction. He went to the campaign, served
near three months, met the ordinary hardships of such an expedition, but
was in no battle." Official documents furnish some further interesting
details. As already said, the call was printed in the "Sangamo Journal"
of April 19. On April 21 the company was organized at Richland, Sangamon
County, and on April 28 was inspected and mustered into service at
Beardstown and attached to Colonel Samuel Thompson's regiment, the
Fourth Illinois Mounted Volunteers. They marched at once to the hostile
frontier. As the campaign shaped itself, it probably became evident to
the company that they were not likely to meet any serious fighting, and,
not having been enlisted for any stated period, they became clamorous to
return home. The governor therefore had them and other companies
mustered out of service, at the mouth of Fox River, on May 27. Not,
however, wishing to weaken his forces before the arrival of new levies
already on the way, he called for volunteers to remain twenty days
longer. Lincoln had gone to the frontier to perform real service, not
merely to enjoy military rank or reap military glory. On the same day,
therefore, on which he was mustered out as captain, he reënlisted, and
became Private Lincoln in Captain Iles's company of mounted volunteers,
organized apparently principally for scouting service, and sometimes
called the Independent Spy Battalion. Among the other officers who
imitated this patriotic example were General Whiteside and Major John T.
Stuart, Lincoln's later law partner. The Independent Spy Battalion,
having faithfully performed its new term of service, was finally
mustered out on June 16, 1832. Lincoln and his messmate, George M.
Harrison, had the misfortune to have their horses stolen the day before,
but Harrison relates:

"I laughed at our fate and he joked at it, and we all started off
merrily. The generous men of our company walked and rode by turns with
us, and we fared about equal with the rest. But for this generosity our
legs would have had to do the better work; for in that day this dreary
route furnished no horses to buy or to steal, and, whether on horse or
afoot, we always had company, for many of the horses' backs were too
sore for riding."

Lincoln must have reached home about August 1, for the election was to
occur in the second week of that month, and this left him but ten days
in which to push his claims for popular indorsement. His friends,
however had been doing manful duty for him during his three months'
absence, and he lost nothing in public estimation by his prompt
enlistment to defend the frontier. Successive announcements in the
"Journal" had by this time swelled the list of candidates to thirteen.
But Sangamon County was entitled to only four representatives and when
the returns came in Lincoln was among those defeated. Nevertheless, he
made a very respectable showing in the race. The list of successful and
unsuccessful aspirants and their votes was as follows:

    E.D. Taylor................   1127
    John T. Stuart..............   991
    Achilles Morris.............   945
    Peter Cartwright............   815

Under the plurality rule, these four had been elected. The unsuccessful
candidates were:

    A.G. Herndon..............    806
    W. Carpenter...............   774
    J. Dawson..................   717
    A. Lincoln.................   657
    T.M. Neale................    571
    R. Quinton.................   485
    Z. Peter...................   214
    E. Robinson................   169
    ---- Kirkpatrick...........    44

The returns show that the total vote of the county was about twenty-one
hundred and sixty-eight. Comparing this with the vote cast for Lincoln,
we see that he received nearly one third of the total county vote,
notwithstanding his absence from the canvass, notwithstanding the fact
that his acquaintanceship was limited to the neighborhood of New Salem,
notwithstanding the sharp competition. Indeed, his talent and fitness
for active practical politics were demonstrated beyond question by the
result in his home precinct of New Salem, which, though he ran as a
Whig, gave two hundred and seventy-seven votes for him and only three
against him. Three months later it gave one hundred and eighty-five for
the Jackson and only seventy for the Clay electors, proving Lincoln's
personal popularity. He remembered for the remainder of his life with
great pride that this was the only time he was ever beaten on a direct
vote of the people.

The result of the election brought him to one of the serious crises of
his life, which he forcibly stated in after years in the following
written words:

"He was now without means and out of business, but was anxious to remain
with his friends, who had treated him with so much generosity,
especially as he had nothing elsewhere to go to. He studied what he
should do; thought of learning the blacksmith trade, thought of trying
to study law, rather thought he could not succeed at that without a
better education."

The perplexing problem between inclination and means to follow it, the
struggle between conscious talent and the restraining fetters of
poverty, has come to millions of young Americans before and since, but
perhaps to none with a sharper trial of spirit or more resolute
patience. Before he had definitely resolved upon either career, chance
served not to solve, but to postpone his difficulty, and in the end to
greatly increase it.

New Salem, which apparently never had any good reason for becoming a
town, seems already at that time to have entered on the road to rapid
decay. Offutt's speculations had failed, and he had disappeared. The
brothers Herndon, who had opened a new store, found business dull and
unpromising. Becoming tired of their undertaking, they offered to sell
out to Lincoln and Berry on credit, and took their promissory notes in
payment. The new partners, in that excess of hope which usually attends
all new ventures, also bought two other similar establishments that were
in extremity, and for these likewise gave their notes. It is evident
that the confidence which Lincoln had inspired while he was a clerk in
Offutt's store, and the enthusiastic support he had received as a
candidate, were the basis of credit that sustained these several
commercial transactions.

It turned out in the long run that Lincoln's credit and the popular
confidence that supported it were as valuable both to his creditors and
himself as if the sums which stood over his signature had been gold coin
in a solvent bank. But this transmutation was not attained until he had
passed through a very furnace of financial embarrassment. Berry proved a
worthless partner, and the business a sorry failure. Seeing this,
Lincoln and Berry sold out again on credit--to the Trent brothers, who
soon broke up and ran away. Berry also departed and died, and finally
all the notes came back upon Lincoln for payment. He was unable to meet
these obligations, but he did the next best thing. He remained, promised
to pay when he could, and most of his creditors, maintaining their
confidence in his integrity, patiently bided their time, till, in the
course of long years, he fully justified it by paying, with interest
every cent of what he learned to call, in humorous satire upon his own
folly, the "national debt."

With one of them he was not so fortunate. Van Bergen, who bought one of
the Lincoln-Berry notes, obtained judgment, and, by peremptory sale,
swept away the horse, saddle, and surveying instruments with the daily
use of which Lincoln "procured bread and kept body and soul together,"
to use his own words. But here again Lincoln's recognized honesty was
his safety. Out of personal friendship, James Short bought the property
and restored it to the young surveyor, giving him time to repay. It was
not until his return from Congress, seventeen years after the purchase
of the store, that he finally relieved himself of the last instalments
of his "national debt." But by these seventeen years of sober industry,
rigid economy, and unflinching faith to his obligations he earned the
title of "Honest old Abe," which proved of greater service to himself
and his country than if he had gained the wealth of Croesus.

Out of this ill-starred commercial speculation, however, Lincoln derived
one incidental benefit, and it may be said it became the determining
factor in his career. It is evident from his own language that he
underwent a severe mental struggle in deciding whether he would become a
blacksmith or a lawyer. In taking a middle course, and trying to become
a merchant, he probably kept the latter choice strongly in view. It
seems well established by local tradition that during the period while
the Lincoln-Berry store was running its fore-doomed course from bad to
worse, Lincoln employed all the time he could spare from his customers
(and he probably had many leisure hours) in reading and study of various
kinds. This habit was greatly stimulated and assisted by his being
appointed, May 7, 1833, postmaster at New Salem, which office he
continued to hold until May 30, 1836, when New Salem partially
disappeared and the office was removed to Petersburg. The influences
which brought about the selection of Lincoln are not recorded, but it is
suggested that he had acted for some time as deputy postmaster under the
former incumbent, and thus became the natural successor. Evidently his
politics formed no objection, as New Salem precinct had at the August
election, when he ran as a Whig, given him its almost solid vote for
representative notwithstanding the fact that it was more than two thirds
Democratic. The postmastership increased his public consideration and
authority, broadened his business experience, and the newspapers he
handled provided him an abundance of reading matter on topics of both
local and national importance up to the latest dates.

Those were stirring times, even on the frontier. The "Sangamo Journal"
of December 30, 1832, printed Jackson's nullification proclamation. The
same paper, of March 9, 1833, contained an editorial on Clay's
compromise and that of the 16th had a notice of the great nullification
debate in Congress. The speeches of Clay, Calhoun, and Webster were
published in full during the following month, and Mr. Lincoln could not
well help reading them and joining in the feelings and comments they
provoked.

While the town of New Salem was locally dying, the county of Sangamon
and the State of Illinois were having what is now called a boom. Other
wide-awake newspapers, such as the "Missouri Republican" and "Louisville
Journal," abounded in notices of the establishment of new stage lines
and the general rush of immigration. But the joyous dream of the New
Salemites, that the Sangamon River would become a commercial highway,
quickly faded. The _Talisman_ was obliged to hurry back down the rapidly
falling stream, tearing away a portion of the famous dam to permit her
departure. There were rumors that another steamer, the _Sylph_, would
establish regular trips between Springfield and Beardstown, but she
never came. The freshets and floods of 1831 and 1832 were succeeded by a
series of dry seasons, and the navigation of the Sangamon River was
never afterward a telling plank in the county platform of either
political party.




III

Appointed Deputy Surveyor--Elected to Legislature in 1834--Campaign
Issues--Begins Study of Law--Internal Improvement System--The
Lincoln-Stone Protest--Candidate for Speaker in 1838 and 1840


When Lincoln was appointed postmaster, in May, 1833, the Lincoln-Berry
store had not yet completely "winked out," to use his own picturesque
phrase. When at length he ceased to be a merchant, he yet remained a
government official, a man of consideration and authority, who still had
a responsible occupation and definite home, where he could read, write,
and study. The proceeds of his office were doubtless very meager, but in
that day, when the rate of postage on letters was still twenty-five
cents, a little change now and then came into his hands, which, in the
scarcity of money prevailing on the frontier, had an importance
difficult for us to appreciate. His positions as candidate for the
legislature and as postmaster probably had much to do in bringing him
another piece of good fortune. In the rapid settlement of Illinois and
Sangamon County, and the obtaining titles to farms by purchase or
preëmption, as well as in the locating and opening of new roads, the
county surveyor had more work on his hands than he could perform
throughout a county extending forty miles east and west and fifty north
and south, and was compelled to appoint deputies to assist him. The name
of the county surveyor was John Calhoun, recognized by all his
contemporaries in Sangamon as a man of education and talent and an
aspiring Democratic politician. It was not an easy matter for Calhoun to
find properly qualified deputies, and when he became acquainted with
Lincoln, and learned his attainments and aptitudes, and the estimation
in which he was held by the people of New Salem, he wisely concluded to
utilize his talents and standing, notwithstanding their difference in
politics. The incident is thus recorded by Lincoln:

"The surveyor of Sangamon offered to depute to Abraham that portion of
his work which was within his part of the county. He accepted, procured
a compass and chain, studied Flint and Gibson a little, and went at it.
This procured bread, and kept soul and body together."

Tradition has it that Calhoun not only gave him the appointment, but
lent him the book in which to study the art, which he accomplished in a
period of six weeks, aided by the schoolmaster, Mentor Graham. The exact
period of this increase in knowledge and business capacity is not
recorded, but it must have taken place in the summer of 1833, as there
exists a certificate of survey in Lincoln's handwriting signed, "J.
Calhoun, S.S.C., by A. Lincoln," dated January 14, 1834. Before June of
that year he had surveyed and located a public road from "Musick's Ferry
on Salt Creek, _via_ New Salem, to the county line in the direction to
Jacksonville," twenty-six miles and seventy chains in length, the exact
course of which survey, with detailed bearings and distances, was drawn
on common white letter-paper pasted in a long slip, to a scale of two
inches to the mile, in ordinary yet clear and distinct penmanship. The
compensation he received for this service was three dollars per day for
five days, and two dollars and fifty cents for making the plat and
report.

An advertisement in the "Journal" shows that the regular fees of another
deputy were "two dollars per day, or one dollar per lot of eight acres
or less, and fifty cents for a single line, with ten cents per mile for
traveling."

While this class of work and his post-office, with its emoluments,
probably amply supplied his board, lodging and clothing, it left him no
surplus with which to pay his debts, for it was in the latter part of
that same year (1834) that Van Bergen caused his horse and surveying
instruments to be sold under the hammer, as already related. Meanwhile,
amid these fluctuations of good and bad luck, Lincoln maintained his
equanimity, his steady, persevering industry, and his hopeful ambition
and confidence in the future. Through all his misfortunes and his
failures, he preserved his self-respect and his determination to
succeed.

Two years had nearly elapsed since he was defeated for the legislature,
and, having received so flattering a vote on that occasion, it was
entirely natural that he should determine to try a second chance. Four
new representatives were to be chosen at the August election of 1834,
and near the end of April Lincoln published his announcement that he
would again be a candidate. He could certainly view his expectations in
every way in a more hopeful light. His knowledge had increased, his
experience broadened, his acquaintanceship greatly increased. His
talents were acknowledged, his ability recognized. He was postmaster and
deputy surveyor. He had become a public character whose services were in
demand. As compared with the majority of his neighbors, he was a man of
learning who had seen the world. Greater, however, than all these
advantages, his sympathetic kindness of heart, his sincere, open
frankness, his sturdy, unshrinking honesty, and that inborn sense of
justice that yielded to no influence, made up a nobility of character
and bearing that impressed the rude frontiersmen as much as, if not more
quickly and deeply than, it would have done the most polished and
erudite society.

Beginning his campaign in April, he had three full months before him for
electioneering, and he evidently used the time to good advantage. The
pursuit of popularity probably consisted mainly of the same methods that
in backwoods districts prevail even to our day: personal visits and
solicitations, attendance at various kinds of neighborhood gatherings,
such as raisings of new cabins, horse-races, shooting-matches, sales of
town lots or of personal property under execution, or whatever occasion
served to call a dozen or two of the settlers together. One recorded
incident illustrates the practical nature of the politician's art at
that day:

"He [Lincoln] came to my house, near Island Grove, during harvest. There
were some thirty men in the field. He got his dinner and went out in the
field where the men were at work. I gave him an introduction, and the
boys said that they could not vote for a man unless he could make a
hand. 'Well, boys,' said he, 'if that is all, I am sure of your votes.'
He took hold of the cradle, and led the way all the round with perfect
ease. The boys were satisfied, and I don't think he lost a vote in the
crowd."

Sometimes two or more candidates would meet at such places, and short
speeches be called for and given. Altogether, the campaign was livelier
than that of two years before. Thirteen candidates were again contesting
for the four seats in the legislature, to say nothing of candidates for
governor, for Congress, and for the State Senate. The scope of
discussion was enlarged and localized. From the published address of an
industrious aspirant who received only ninety-two votes, we learn that
the issues now were the construction by the general government of a
canal from Lake Michigan to the Illinois River, the improvement of the
Sangamon River, the location of the State capital at Springfield, a
United States bank, a better road law, and amendments to the estray
laws.

When the election returns came in Lincoln had reason to be satisfied
with the efforts he had made. He received the second highest number of
votes in the long list of candidates. Those cast for the representatives
chosen stood: Dawson, 1390; Lincoln, 1376; Carpenter 1170; Stuart, 1164.
The location of the State capital had also been submitted to popular
vote at this election. Springfield, being much nearer the geographical
center of the State, was anxious to deprive Vandalia of that honor, and
the activity of the Sangamon politicians proved it to be a dangerous
rival. In the course of a month the returns from all parts of the State
had come in, and showed that Springfield was third in the race.

It must be frankly admitted that Lincoln's success at this juncture was
one of the most important events of his life. A second defeat might have
discouraged his efforts to lift himself to a professional career, and
sent him to the anvil to make horseshoes and to iron wagons for the
balance of his days. But this handsome popular indorsement assured his
standing and confirmed his credit. With this lift in the clouds of his
horizon, he could resolutely carry his burden of debt and hopefully look
to wider fields of public usefulness. Already, during the progress of
the canvass, he had received cheering encouragement and promise of most
valuable help. One of the four successful candidates was John T. Stuart,
who had been major of volunteers in the Black Hawk War while Lincoln
was captain, and who, together with Lincoln, had reënlisted as a private
in the Independent Spy Battalion. There is every likelihood that the two
had begun a personal friendship during their military service, which was
of course strongly cemented by their being fellow-candidates and both
belonging to the Whig party. Mr. Lincoln relates:

"Major John T. Stuart, then in full practice of the law [at
Springfield], was also elected. During the canvass, in a private
conversation he encouraged Abraham to study law. After the election, he
borrowed books of Stuart, took them home with him, and went at it in
good earnest. He studied with nobody.... In the autumn of 1836 he
obtained a law license, and on April 15, 1837, removed to Springfield
and commenced the practice, his old friend Stuart taking him into
partnership."

From and after this election in 1834 as a representative, Lincoln was a
permanent factor in the politics and the progress of Sangamon County. At
a Springfield meeting in the following November to promote common
schools, he was appointed one of eleven delegates to attend a convention
at Vandalia called to deliberate on that subject. He was reëlected to
the legislature in 1836, in 1838, and in 1840, and thus for a period of
eight years took a full share in shaping and enacting the public and
private laws of Illinois, which in our day has become one of the leading
States in the Mississippi valley. Of Lincoln's share in that
legislation, it need only be said that it was as intelligent and
beneficial to the public interest as that of the best of his colleagues.
The most serious error committed by the legislature of Illinois during
that period was that it enacted laws setting on foot an extensive system
of internal improvements, in the form of railroads and canals,
altogether beyond the actual needs of transportation for the then
existing population of the State, and the consequent reckless creation
of a State debt for money borrowed at extravagant interest and liberal
commissions. The State underwent a season of speculative intoxication,
in which, by the promised and expected rush of immigration and the
swelling currents of its business, its farms were suddenly to become
villages, its villages spreading towns, and its towns transformed into
great cities, while all its people were to be made rich by the increased
value of their land and property. Both parties entered with equal
recklessness into this ill-advised internal improvement system, which in
the course of about four years brought the State to bankruptcy, with no
substantial works to show for the foolishly expended millions.

In voting for these measures, Mr. Lincoln represented the public opinion
and wish of his county and the whole State; and while he was as
blamable, he was at the same time no more so than the wisest of his
colleagues. It must be remembered in extenuation that he was just
beginning his parliamentary education. From the very first, however, he
seems to have become a force in the legislature, and to have rendered
special service to his constituents. It is conceded that the one object
which Springfield and the most of Sangamon County had at heart was the
removal of the capital from Vandalia to that place. This was
accomplished in 1836, and the management of the measure appears to have
been intrusted mainly to Mr. Lincoln.

One incident of his legislative career stands out in such prominent
relation to the great events of his after life that it deserves special
explanation and emphasis. Even at that early date, a quarter of a
century before the outbreak of the Civil War, the slavery question was
now and then obtruding itself as an irritating and perplexing element
into the local legislation of almost every new State. Illinois, though
guaranteed its freedom by the Ordinance of 1787, nevertheless underwent
a severe political struggle in which, about four years after her
admission into the Union, politicians and settlers from the South made a
determined effort to change her to a slave State. The legislature of
1822-23, with a two-thirds pro-slavery majority of the State Senate, and
a technical, but legally questionable, two-thirds majority in the House,
submitted to popular vote an act calling a State convention to change
the constitution. It happened, fortunately, that Governor Coles, though
a Virginian, was strongly antislavery, and gave the weight of his
official influence and his whole four years' salary to counteract the
dangerous scheme. From the fact that southern Illinois up to that time
was mostly peopled from the slave States, the result was seriously in
doubt through an active and exciting campaign, and the convention was
finally defeated by a majority of eighteen hundred in a total vote of
eleven thousand six hundred and twelve. While this result effectually
decided that Illinois would remain a free State, the propagandism and
reorganization left a deep and tenacious undercurrent of pro-slavery
opinion that for many years manifested itself in vehement and intolerant
outcries against "abolitionism," which on one occasion caused the murder
of Elijah P. Lovejoy for persisting in his right to print an antislavery
newspaper at Alton.

Nearly a year before this tragedy the Illinois legislature had under
consideration certain resolutions from the Eastern States on the subject
of slavery, and the committee to which they had been referred reported a
set of resolves "highly disapproving abolition societies," holding that
"the right of property in slaves is secured to the slaveholding States
by the Federal Constitution," together with other phraseology calculated
on the whole to soothe and comfort pro-slavery sentiment. After much
irritating discussion, the committee's resolutions were finally passed,
with but Lincoln and five others voting in the negative. No record
remains whether or not Lincoln joined in the debate; but, to leave no
doubt upon his exact position and feeling, he and his colleague, Dan
Stone, caused the following protest to be formally entered on the
journals of the House:

"Resolutions upon the subject of domestic slavery having passed both
branches of the General Assembly at its present session, the undersigned
hereby protest against the passage of the same."

"They believe that the institution of slavery is founded on both
injustice and bad policy, but that the promulgation of abolition
doctrines tends rather to increase than abate its evils."

"They believe that the Congress of the United States has no power under
the Constitution to interfere with the institution of slavery in the
different States."

"They believe that the Congress of the United States has the power,
under the Constitution, to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia,
but that the power ought not to be exercised, unless at the request of
the people of the District."

"The difference between these opinions and those contained in the said
resolutions is their reasons for entering this protest."

In view of the great scope and quality of Lincoln's public service in
after life, it would be a waste of time to trace out in detail his words
or his votes upon the multitude of questions on which he acted during
this legislative career of eight years. It needs only to be remembered
that it formed a varied and thorough school of parliamentary practice
and experience that laid the broad foundation of that extraordinary
skill and sagacity in statesmanship which he afterward displayed in
party controversy and executive direction. The quick proficiency and
ready aptitude for leadership evidenced by him in this, as it may be
called, his preliminary parliamentary school are strikingly proved by
the fact that the Whig members of the Illinois House of Representatives
gave him their full party vote for Speaker, both in 1838 and 1840. But
being in a minority, they could not, of course, elect him.




IV

Law Practice--Rules for a Lawyer--Law and Politics: Twin Occupations--The
Springfield Coterie--Friendly Help--Anne Rutledge--Mary Owens


Lincoln's removal from New Salem to Springfield and his entrance into a
law partnership with Major John T. Stuart begin a distinctively new
period in his career, From this point we need not trace in detail his
progress in his new and this time deliberately chosen vocation. The
lawyer who works his way up in professional merit from a five-dollar fee
in a suit before a justice of the peace to a five-thousand-dollar fee
before the Supreme Court of his State has a long and difficult path to
climb. Mr. Lincoln climbed this path for twenty-five years with
industry, perseverance, patience--above all, with that sense of moral
responsibility that always clearly traced the dividing line between his
duty to his client and his duty to society and truth. His unqualified
frankness of statement assured him the confidence of judge and jury in
every argument. His habit of fully admitting the weak points in his case
gained their close attention to its strong ones, and when clients
brought him bad cases, his uniform advice was not to begin the suit.
Among his miscellaneous writings there exist some fragments of autograph
notes, evidently intended for a little lecture or talk to law students
which set forth with brevity and force his opinion of what a lawyer
ought to be and do. He earnestly commends diligence in study, and, next
to diligence, promptness in keeping up his work.

"As a general rule, never take your whole fee in advance," he says, "nor
any more than a small retainer. When fully paid beforehand, you are more
than a common mortal if you can feel the same interest in the case as if
something was still in prospect for you as well as for your client."
"Extemporaneous speaking should be practised and cultivated. It is the
lawyer's avenue to the public. However able and faithful he may be in
other respects, people are slow to bring him business if he cannot make
a speech. And yet, there is not a more fatal error to young lawyers than
relying too much on speech-making. If any one, upon his rare powers of
speaking, shall claim an exemption from the drudgery of the law, his
case is a failure in advance. Discourage litigation. Persuade your
neighbors to compromise whenever you can. Point out to them how the
nominal winner is often a real loser--in fees, expenses, and waste of
time. As a peacemaker, the lawyer has a superior opportunity of being a
good man. There will still be business enough. Never stir up litigation.
A worse man can scarcely be found than one who does this. Who can be
more nearly a fiend than he who habitually overhauls the register of
deeds in search of defects in titles, whereon to stir up strife and put
money in his pocket? A moral tone ought to be infused into the
profession which should drive such men out of it." "There is a vague
popular belief that lawyers are necessarily dishonest. I say vague
because when we consider to what extent confidence and honors are
reposed in and conferred upon lawyers by the people, it appears
improbable that their impression of dishonesty is very distinct and
vivid. Yet the impression is common--almost universal. Let no young man
choosing the law for a calling for a moment yield to the popular belief.
Resolve to be honest at all events; and if, in your own judgment, you
cannot be an honest lawyer, resolve to be honest without being a lawyer.
Choose some other occupation, rather than one in the choosing of which
you do, in advance, consent to be a knave."

While Lincoln thus became a lawyer, he did not cease to remain a
politician. In the early West, law and politics were parallel roads to
usefulness as well as distinction. Newspapers had not then reached any
considerable circulation. There existed neither fast presses to print
them, mail routes to carry them, nor subscribers to read them. Since
even the laws had to be newly framed for those new communities, the
lawyer became the inevitable political instructor and guide as far as
ability and fame extended. His reputation as a lawyer was a twin of his
influence as an orator, whether through logic or eloquence. Local
conditions fostered, almost necessitated, this double pursuit. Westward
emigration was in its full tide, and population was pouring into the
great State of Illinois with ever accelerating rapidity. Settlements
were spreading, roads were being opened, towns laid out, the larger
counties divided and new ones organized, and the enthusiastic visions of
coming prosperity threw the State into that fever of speculation which
culminated in wholesale internal improvements on borrowed capital and
brought collapse, stagnation, and bankruptcy in its inevitable train. As
already said, these swift changes required a plentiful supply of new
laws, to frame which lawyers were in a large proportion sent to the
legislature every two years. These same lawyers also filled the bar and
recruited the bench of the new State, and, as they followed the
itinerant circuit courts from county to county in their various
sections, were called upon in these summer wanderings to explain in
public speeches their legislative work of the winter. By a natural
connection, this also involved a discussion of national and party
issues. It was also during this period that party activity was
stimulated by the general adoption of the new system of party caucuses
and party conventions to which President Jackson had given the impulse.

In the American system of representative government, elections not only
occur with the regularity of clockwork, but pervade the whole organism
in every degree of its structure from top to bottom--Federal, State,
county, township, and school district. In Illinois, even the State
judiciary has at different times been chosen by popular ballot. The
function of the politician, therefore, is one of continuous watchfulness
and activity, and he must have intimate knowledge of details if he would
work out grand results. Activity in politics also produces eager
competition and sharp rivalry. In 1839 the seat of government was
definitely transferred from Vandalia to Springfield, and there soon
gathered at the new State capital a group of young men whose varied
ability and future success in public service has rarely been
excelled--Douglas, Shields, Calhoun, Stuart, Logan, Baker, Treat,
Hardin, Trumbull, McClernand, Browning, McDougall, and others.

His new surroundings greatly stimulated and reinforced Mr. Lincoln's
growing experience and spreading acquaintance, giving him a larger share
and wider influence in local and State politics. He became a valued and
sagacious adviser in party caucuses, and a power in party conventions.
Gradually, also, his gifts as an attractive and persuasive campaign
speaker were making themselves felt and appreciated.

His removal, in April, 1837, from a village of twenty houses to a "city"
of about two thousand inhabitants placed him in striking new relations
and necessities as to dress, manners, and society, as well as politics;
yet here again, as in the case of his removal from his father's cabin to
New Salem six years before, peculiar conditions rendered the transition
less abrupt than would at first appear. Springfield, notwithstanding its
greater population and prospective dignity as the capital, was in many
respects no great improvement on New Salem. It had no public buildings,
its streets and sidewalks were unpaved, its stores, in spite of all
their flourish of advertisements, were staggering under the hard times
of 1837-39, and stagnation of business imposed a rigid economy on all
classes. If we may credit tradition, this was one of the most serious
crises of Lincoln's life. His intimate friend, William Butler, related
to the writer that, having attended a session of the legislature at
Vandalia, he and Lincoln returned together at its close to Springfield
by the usual mode of horseback travel. At one of their stopping-places
over night Lincoln, in one of his gloomy moods, told Butler the story of
the almost hopeless prospects which lay immediately before him--that the
session was over, his salary all drawn, and his money all spent; that he
had no resources and no work; that he did not know where to turn to earn
even a week's board. Butler bade him be of good cheer, and, without any
formal proposition or agreement, took him and his belongings to his own
house and domesticated him there as a permanent guest, with Lincoln's
tacit compliance rather than any definite consent. Later Lincoln shared
a room and genial companionship, which ripened into closest intimacy, in
the store of his friend Joshua F. Speed, all without charge or expense;
and these brotherly offerings helped the young lawyer over present
necessities which might otherwise have driven him to muscular handiwork
at weekly or monthly wages.

From this time onward, in daily conversation, in argument at the bar, in
political consultation and discussion, Lincoln's life gradually
broadened into contact with the leading professional minds of the
growing State of Illinois. The man who could not pay a week's board bill
was twice more elected to the legislature, was invited to public
banquets and toasted by name, became a popular speaker, moved in the
best society of the new capital, and made what was considered a
brilliant marriage.

Lincoln's stature and strength, his intelligence and ambition--in short,
all the elements which gave him popularity among men in New Salem,
rendered him equally attractive to the fair sex of that village. On the
other hand, his youth, his frank sincerity, his longing for sympathy and
encouragement, made him peculiarly sensitive to the society and
influence of women. Soon after coming to New Salem he chanced much in
the society of Miss Anne Rutledge, a slender, blue-eyed blonde, nineteen
years old, moderately educated, beautiful according to local
standards--an altogether lovely, tender-hearted, universally admired,
and generally fascinating girl. From the personal descriptions of her
which tradition has preserved, the inference is naturally drawn that her
temperament and disposition were very much akin to those of Mr. Lincoln
himself. It is little wonder, therefore, that he fell in love with her.
But two years before she had become engaged to a Mr. McNamar, who had
gone to the East to settle certain family affairs, and whose absence
became so unaccountably prolonged that Anne finally despaired of his
return, and in time betrothed herself to Lincoln. A year or so after
this event Anne Rutledge was taken sick and died--the neighbors said of
a broken heart, but the doctor called it brain fever, and his science
was more likely to be correct than their psychology. Whatever may have
been the truth upon this point, the incident threw Lincoln into profound
grief, and a period of melancholy so absorbing as to cause his friends
apprehension for his own health. Gradually, however, their studied and
devoted companionship won him back to cheerfulness, and his second
affair of the heart assumed altogether different characteristics, most
of which may be gathered from his own letters.

Two years before the death of Anne Rutledge, Mr. Lincoln had seen and
made the acquaintance of Miss Mary Owens, who had come to visit her
sister Mrs. Able, and had passed about four weeks in New Salem, after
which she returned to Kentucky. Three years later, and perhaps a year
after Miss Rutledge's death, Mrs. Able, before starting for Kentucky,
told Mr. Lincoln probably more in jest than earnest, that she would
bring her sister back with her on condition that he would become
her--Mrs. Able's--brother-in-law. Lincoln, also probably more in jest
than earnest, promptly agreed to the proposition; for he remembered Mary
Owens as a tall, handsome, dark-haired girl, with fair skin and large
blue eyes, who in conversation could be intellectual and serious as well
as jovial and witty, who had a liberal education, and was considered
wealthy--one of those well-poised, steady characters who look upon
matrimony and life with practical views and social matronly instincts.

The bantering offer was made and accepted in the autumn of 1836, and in
the following April Mr. Lincoln removed to Springfield. Before this
occurred, however, he was surprised to learn that Mary Owens had
actually returned with her sister from Kentucky, and felt that the
romantic jest had become a serious and practical question. Their first
interview dissipated some of the illusions in which each had indulged.
The three years elapsed since they first met had greatly changed her
personal appearance. She had become stout; her twenty-eight years (one
year more than his) had somewhat hardened the lines of her face. Both in
figure and feature she presented a disappointing contrast to the slim
and not yet totally forgotten Anne Rutledge.

On her part, it was more than likely that she did not find in him all
the attractions her sister had pictured. The speech and manners of the
Illinois frontier lacked much of the chivalric attentions and flattering
compliments to which the Kentucky beaux were addicted. He was yet a
diamond in the rough, and she would not immediately decide till she
could better understand his character and prospects, so no formal
engagement resulted.

In December, Lincoln went to his legislative duties at Vandalia, and in
the following April took up his permanent abode in Springfield. Such a
separation was not favorable to rapid courtship, yet they had occasional
interviews and exchanged occasional letters. None of hers to him have
been preserved, and only three of his to her. From these it appears that
they sometimes discussed their affair in a cold, hypothetical way, even
down to problems of housekeeping, in the light of mere worldly prudence,
much as if they were guardians arranging a _mariage de convenance_,
rather than impulsive and ardent lovers wandering in Arcady. Without
Miss Owens's letters it is impossible to know what she may have said to
him, but in May, 1837, Lincoln wrote to her:

"I am often thinking of what we said about your coming to live at
Springfield. I am afraid you would not be satisfied. There is a great
deal of flourishing about in carriages here, which it would be your
doom to see without sharing it. You would have to be poor, without the
means of hiding your poverty. Do you believe you could bear that
patiently? Whatever woman may cast her lot with mine, should any ever do
so, it is my intention to do all in my power to make her happy and
contented; and there is nothing I can imagine that would make me more
unhappy than to fail in the effort. I know I should be much happier with
you than the way I am, provided I saw no signs of discontent in you.
What you have said to me may have been in the way of jest, or I may have
misunderstood it. If so, then let it be forgotten; if otherwise, I much
wish you would think seriously before you decide. What I have said I
will most positively abide by, provided you wish it. My opinion is that
you had better not do it. You have not been accustomed to hardship, and
it may be more severe than you now imagine. I know you are capable of
thinking correctly on any subject, and if you deliberate maturely upon
this before you decide, then I am willing to abide your decision."

Whether, after receiving this, she wrote him the "good long letter" he
asked for in the same epistle is not known. Apparently they did not meet
again until August, and the interview must have been marked by reserve
and coolness on both sides, which left each more uncertain than before;
for on the same day Lincoln again wrote her, and, after saying that she
might perhaps be mistaken in regard to his real feelings toward her,
continued thus:

"I want in all cases to do right, and most particularly so in all cases
with women. I want at this particular time, more than anything else, to
do right with you; and if I knew it would be doing right, as I rather
suspect it would, to let you alone, I would do it. And for the purpose
of making the matter as plain as possible, I now say that you can now
drop the subject, dismiss your thoughts (if you ever had any) from me
forever, and leave this letter unanswered, without calling forth one
accusing murmur from me. And I will even go further, and say that if it
will add anything to your comfort or peace of mind to do so, it is my
sincere wish that you should. Do not understand by this that I wish to
cut your acquaintance. I mean no such thing. What I do wish is that our
further acquaintance shall depend upon yourself. If such further
acquaintance would contribute nothing to your happiness, I am sure it
would not to mine. If you feel yourself in any degree bound to me, I am
now willing to release you, provided you wish it; while, on the other
hand, I am willing and even anxious to bind you faster, if I can be
convinced that it will in any considerable degree add to your happiness.
This, indeed, is the whole question with me."

All that we know of the sequel is contained in a letter which Lincoln
wrote to his friend Mrs. Browning nearly a year later, after Miss Owens
had finally returned to Kentucky, in which, without mentioning the
lady's name, he gave a seriocomic description of what might be called a
courtship to escape matrimony. He dwells on his disappointment at her
changed appearance, and continues:

"But what could I do? I had told her sister that I would take her for
better or for worse, and I made a point of honor and conscience in all
things to stick to my word, especially if others had been induced to act
on it, which in this case I had no doubt they had; for I was now fairly
convinced that no other man on earth would have her, and hence the
conclusion that they were bent on holding me to my bargain. 'Well,'
thought I, 'I have said it, and, be the consequences what they may, it
shall not be my fault if I fail to do it....' All this while, although I
was fixed 'firm as the surge-repelling rock' in my resolution, I found I
was continually repenting the rashness which had led me to make it.
Through life I have been in no bondage, either real or imaginary, from
the thraldom of which I so much desired to be free.... After I had
delayed the matter as long as I thought I could in honor do (which, by
the way, had brought me round into last fall), I concluded I might as
well bring it to a consummation without further delay, and so I mustered
my resolution and made the proposal to her direct; but, shocking to
relate, she answered, No. At first I supposed she did it through an
affectation of modesty, which I thought but ill became her under the
peculiar circumstances of her case, but on my renewal of the charge I
found she repelled it with greater firmness than before. I tried it
again and again, but with the same success, or rather with the same want
of success. I finally was forced to give it up, at which I very
unexpectedly found myself mortified almost beyond endurance. I was
mortified, it seemed to me, in a hundred different ways. My vanity was
deeply wounded by the reflection that I had so long been too stupid to
discover her intentions, and at the same time never doubting that I
understood them perfectly; and also that she, whom I had taught myself
to believe nobody else would have, had actually rejected me with all my
fancied greatness. And, to cap the whole, I then for the first time
began to suspect that I was really a little in love with her."

The serious side of this letter is undoubtedly genuine and candid, while
the somewhat over-exaggeration of the comic side points as clearly that
he had not fully recovered from the mental suffering he had undergone
in the long conflict between doubt and duty. From the beginning, the
match-making zeal of the sister had placed the parties in a false
position, produced embarrassment, and created distrust. A different
beginning might have resulted in a very different outcome, for Lincoln,
while objecting to her corpulency, acknowledges that in both feature and
intellect she was as attractive as any woman he had ever met; and Miss
Owens's letters, written after his death, state that her principal
objection lay in the fact that his training had been different from
hers, and that "Mr. Lincoln was deficient in those little links which
make up the chain of a woman's happiness." She adds: "The last message I
ever received from him was about a year after we parted in Illinois.
Mrs. Able visited Kentucky, and he said to her in Springfield, 'Tell
your sister that I think she was a great fool because she did not stay
here and marry me.'" She was even then not quite clear in her own mind
but that his words were true.




V

Springfield Society--Miss Mary Todd--Lincoln's Engagement--His Deep
Despondency--Visit to Kentucky--Letters to Speed--The Shields
Duel--Marriage--Law Partnership with Logan--Hardin Nominated for
Congress, 1843--Baker Nominated for Congress, 1844--Lincoln Nominated and
Elected, 1846


The deep impression which the Mary Owens affair made upon Lincoln is
further shown by one of the concluding phrases of his letter to Mrs.
Browning: "I have now come to the conclusion never again to think of
marrying." But it was not long before a reaction set in from this
pessimistic mood. The actual transfer of the seat of government from
Vandalia to Springfield in 1839 gave the new capital fresh animation.
Business revived, public improvements were begun, politics ran high.
Already there was a spirit in the air that in the following year
culminated in the extraordinary enthusiasm and fervor of the Harrison
presidential campaign of 1840, that rollicking and uproarious party
carnival of humor and satire, of song and jollification, of hard cider
and log cabins. While the State of Illinois was strongly Democratic,
Sangamon County was as distinctly Whig, and the local party disputes were
hot and aggressive. The Whig delegation of Sangamon in the legislature,
popularly called the "Long Nine," because the sum of the stature of its
members was fifty-four feet, became noted for its influence in
legislation in a body where the majority was against them; and of these
Mr. Lincoln was the "tallest" both in person and ability, as was
recognized by his twice receiving the minority vote for Speaker of the
House.

Society also began organizing itself upon metropolitan rather than
provincial assumptions. As yet, however society was liberal. Men of
either wealth or position were still too few to fill its ranks. Energy,
ambition talent, were necessarily the standard of admission; and
Lincoln, though poor as a church mouse, was as welcome as those who
could wear ruffled shirts and carry gold watches. The meetings of the
legislature at Springfield then first brought together that splendid
group of young men of genius whose phenomenal careers and distinguished
services have given Illinois fame in the history of the nation. It is a
marked peculiarity of the American character that the bitterest foes in
party warfare generally meet each other on terms of perfect social
courtesy in the drawing-rooms of society; and future presidential
candidates, cabinet members, senators, congressmen, jurists, orators,
and battle heroes lent the little social reunions of Springfield a zest
and exaltation never found--perhaps impossible--amid the heavy,
oppressive surroundings of conventional ceremony, gorgeous upholstery,
and magnificent decorations.

It was at this period also that Lincoln began to feel and exercise his
expanding influence and powers as a writer and speaker. Already, two
years earlier, he had written and delivered before the Young Men's
Lyceum of Springfield an able address upon "The Perpetuation of Our
Political Institutions," strongly enforcing the doctrine of rigid
obedience to law. In December, 1839, Douglas, in a heated conversation,
challenged the young Whigs present to a political discussion. The
challenge was immediately taken up, and the public of Springfield
listened with eager interest to several nights of sharp debate between
Whig and Democratic champions, in which Lincoln bore a prominent and
successful share. In the following summer, Lincoln's name was placed
upon the Harrison electoral ticket for Illinois, and he lent all his
zeal and eloquence to swell the general popular enthusiasm for
"Tippecanoe and Tyler too."

In the midst of this political and social awakening of the new capital
and the quickened interest and high hopes of leading citizens gathered
there from all parts of the State, there came into the Springfield
circles Miss Mary Todd of Kentucky, twenty-one years old, handsome,
accomplished, vivacious, witty, a dashing and fascinating figure in
dress and conversation, gracious and imperious by turns. She easily
singled out and secured the admiration of such of the Springfield beaux
as most pleased her somewhat capricious fancy. She was a sister of Mrs.
Ninian W. Edwards, whose husband was one of the "Long Nine." This
circumstance made Lincoln a frequent visitor at the Edwards house; and,
being thus much thrown in her company, he found himself, almost before
he knew it, entangled in a new love affair, and in the course of a
twelvemonth engaged to marry her.

Much to the surprise of Springfield society, however, the courtship took
a sudden turn. Whether it was caprice or jealousy, a new attachment, or
mature reflection will always remain a mystery. Every such case is a law
unto itself, and neither science nor poetry is ever able to analyze and
explain its causes and effects. The conflicting stories then current,
and the varying traditions that yet exist, either fail to agree or to
fit the sparse facts which came to light. There remains no dispute,
however, that the occurrence, whatever shape it took, threw Mr. Lincoln
into a deeper despondency than any he had yet experienced, for on
January 23, 1841, he wrote to his law partner, John T. Stuart:

"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 most miserable man living. If
what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there
would not be one cheerful face on earth. Whether I shall ever be better,
I cannot tell; I awfully forebode I shall not. To remain as I am is
impossible; I must die or be better."

Apparently his engagement to Miss Todd was broken off, but whether that
was the result or the cause of his period of gloom seems still a matter
of conjecture. His mind was so perturbed that he felt unable to attend
the sessions of the legislature of which he was a member; and after its
close his intimate friend Joshua F. Speed carried him off for a visit to
Kentucky. The change of scene and surroundings proved of great benefit.
He returned home about midsummer very much improved, but not yet
completely restored to a natural mental equipoise. While on their visit
to Kentucky, Speed had likewise fallen in love, and in the following
winter had become afflicted with doubts and perplexities akin to those
from which Lincoln had suffered. It now became his turn to give sympathy
and counsel to his friend, and he did this with a warmth and delicacy
born of his own spiritual trials, not yet entirely overmastered. He
wrote letter after letter to Speed to convince him that his doubts about
not truly loving the woman of his choice were all nonsense.

"Why, Speed, if you did not love her, although you might not wish her
death, you would most certainly be resigned to it. Perhaps this point
is no longer a question with you, and my pertinacious dwelling upon it
is a rude intrusion upon your feelings. If so, you must pardon me. You
know the hell I have suffered on that point, and how tender I am upon
it.... I am now fully convinced that you love her, as ardently as you
are capable of loving.... It is the peculiar misfortune of both you and
me to dream dreams of Elysium far exceeding all that anything earthly
can realize."

When Lincoln heard that Speed was finally married, he wrote him:

"It cannot be told how it now thrills me with joy to hear you say you
are 'far happier than you ever expected to be,' That much, I know, is
enough. I know you too well to suppose your expectations were not, at
least, sometimes extravagant; and if the reality exceeds them all, I
say, Enough, dear Lord. I am not going beyond the truth when I tell you
that the short space it took me to read your last letter gave me more
pleasure than the total sum of all I have enjoyed since the fatal first
of January, 1841. Since then it seems to me I should have been entirely
happy, but for the never-absent idea that there is one still unhappy
whom I have contributed to make so. That still kills my soul. I cannot
but reproach myself for even wishing to be happy while she is
otherwise."

It is quite possible that a series of incidents that occurred during the
summer in which the above was written had something to do with bringing
such a frame of mind to a happier conclusion. James Shields, afterward a
general in two wars and a senator from two States, was at that time
auditor of Illinois, with his office at Springfield. Shields was an
Irishman by birth, and, for an active politician of the Democratic
party, had the misfortune to be both sensitive and irascible in party
warfare. Shields, together with the Democratic governor and treasurer,
issued a circular order forbidding the payment of taxes in the
depreciated paper of the Illinois State banks, and the Whigs were
endeavoring to make capital by charging that the order was issued for
the purpose of bringing enough silver into the treasury to pay the
salaries of these officials. Using this as a basis of argument, a couple
of clever Springfield society girls wrote and printed in the "Sangamo
Journal" a series of humorous letters in country dialect, purporting to
come from the "Lost Townships," and signed by "Aunt Rebecca," who called
herself a farmer's widow. It is hardly necessary to say that Mary Todd
was one of the culprits. The young ladies originated the scheme more to
poke fun at the personal weaknesses of Shields than for the sake of
party effect, and they embellished their simulated plaint about taxes
with an embroidery of fictitious social happenings and personal
allusions to the auditor that put the town on a grin and Shields into
fury. The fair and mischievous writers found it necessary to consult
Lincoln about how they should frame the political features of their
attack, and he set them a pattern by writing the first letter of the
series himself.

Shields sent a friend to the editor of the "Journal," and demanded the
name of the real "Rebecca." The editor, as in duty bound, asked Lincoln
what he should do, and was instructed to give Lincoln's name, and not to
mention the ladies. Then followed a letter from Shields to Lincoln
demanding retraction and apology, Lincoln's reply that he declined to
answer under menace, and a challenge from Shields. Thereupon Lincoln
instructed his "friend" as follows: If former offensive correspondence
were withdrawn and a polite and gentlemanly inquiry made, he was
willing to explain that:

"I did write the 'Lost Townships' letter which appeared in the 'Journal'
of the 2d instant, but had no participation in any form in any other
article alluding to you. I wrote that wholly for political effect; I had
no intention of injuring your personal or private character or standing
as a man or a gentleman; and I did not then think, and do not now think,
that that article could produce or has produced that effect against you,
and had I anticipated such an effect I would have forborne to write it.
And I will add that your conduct toward me, so far as I know, had always
been gentlemanly, and that I had no personal pique against you and no
cause for any.... If nothing like this is done, the preliminaries of the
fight are to be:

"_First_. Weapons: Cavalry broadswords of the largest size, precisely
equal in all respects, and such as now used by the cavalry company at
Jacksonville.

"_Second_. Position: A plank ten feet long, and from nine to twelve
inches broad, to be firmly fixed on edge, on the ground, as the line
between us, which neither is to pass his foot over upon forfeit of his
life. Next, a line drawn on the ground on either side of said plank and
parallel with it, each at the distance of the whole length of the sword
and three feet additional from the plank, and the passing of his own
such line by either party during the fight shall be deemed a surrender
of the contest."

The two seconds met, and, with great unction, pledged "our honor to each
other that we would endeavor to settle the matter amicably," but
persistently higgled over points till publicity and arrests seemed
imminent. Procuring the necessary broadswords, all parties then hurried
away to an island in the Mississippi River opposite Alton, where, long
before the planks were set on edge or the swords drawn, mutual friends
took the case out of the hands of the seconds and declared an
adjustment. The terms of the fight as written by Mr. Lincoln show
plainly enough that in his judgment it was to be treated as a farce, and
would never proceed beyond "preliminaries." There, of course, ensued the
usual very bellicose after-discussion in the newspapers, with additional
challenges between the seconds about the proper etiquette of such
farces, all resulting only in the shedding of much ink and furnishing
Springfield with topics of lively conversation for a month. These
occurrences, naturally enough, again drew Mr. Lincoln and Miss Todd
together in friendly interviews, and Lincoln's letter to Speed detailing
the news of the duels contains this significant paragraph:

"But I began this letter not for what I have been writing, but to say
something on that subject which you know to be of such infinite
solicitude to me. The immense sufferings you endured from the first days
of September till the middle of February you never tried to conceal from
me, and I well understood. You have now been the husband of a lovely
woman nearly eight months. That you are happier now than the day you
married her I well know, for without you could not be living. But I have
your word for it too, and the returning elasticity of spirits which is
manifested in your letters. But I want to ask a close question. 'Are you
now in feeling as well as judgment glad that you are married as you
are?' From anybody but me this would be an impudent question not to be
tolerated, but I know you will pardon it in me. Please answer it
quickly, as I am impatient to know."

The answer was evidently satisfactory, for on November 4, 1842, the Rev.
Charles Dresser united Abraham Lincoln and Mary Todd in the holy bonds
of matrimony.[3]

 [Footnote 3: The following children were born of this marriage:

 Robert Todd, August 1, 1843; Edward Baker, March 10, 1846; William
 Wallace, December 21, 1850; Thomas, April 4, 1853.

 Edward died in infancy; William in the White House, February 20,
 1862; Thomas in Chicago, July 15, 1871; and the mother, Mary
 Lincoln, in Springfield, July 16, 1882.

 Robert, who filled the office of Secretary of War with distinction
 under the administrations of Presidents Garfield and Arthur, as
 well William as that of minister to England under the
 administration of President Harrison, now resides in Chicago,
 Illinois.]

His marriage to Miss Todd ended all those mental perplexities and
periods of despondency from which he had suffered more or less during
his several love affairs, extending over nearly a decade. Out of the
keen anguish he had endured, he finally gained that perfect mastery over
his own spirit which Scripture declares to denote a greatness superior
to that of him who takes a city. Few men have ever attained that
complete domination of the will over the emotions, of reason over
passion, by which he was able in the years to come to meet and solve the
tremendous questions destiny had in store for him. His wedding once
over, he took up with resolute patience the hard, practical routine of
daily life, in which he had already been so severely schooled. Even his
sentimental correspondence with his friend Speed lapsed into neglect. He
was so poor that he and his bride could not make the contemplated visit
to Kentucky they would both have so much enjoyed. His "national debt" of
the old New Salem days was not yet fully paid off. "We are not keeping
house, but boarding at the Globe tavern," he writes. "Our room ... and
boarding only cost us four dollars a week."

His law partnership with Stuart had lasted four years, but was dissolved
by reason of Stuart's election to Congress, and a new one was formed
with Judge Stephen T. Logan, who had recently resigned from the circuit
bench, where he had learned the quality and promise of Lincoln's
talents. It was an opportune and important change. Stuart had devoted
himself mainly to politics, while with Logan law was the primary object.
Under Logan's guidance and encouragement, he took up both the study and
practical work of the profession in a more serious spirit. Lincoln's
interest in politics, however, was in no way diminished, and, in truth,
his limited practice at that date easily afforded him the time necessary
for both.

Since 1840 he had declined a reëlection to the legislature, and his
ambition had doubtless contributed much to this decision. His late law
partner, Stuart, had been three times a candidate for Congress. He was
defeated in 1836, but successfully gained his election in 1838 and 1840,
his service of two terms extending from December 2, 1839, to March 3,
1843. For some reason, the next election had been postponed from the
year 1842 to 1843. It was but natural that Stuart's success should
excite a similar desire in Lincoln, who had reached equal party
prominence, and rendered even more conspicuous party service. Lincoln
had profited greatly by the companionship and friendly emulation of the
many talented young politicians of Springfield, but this same condition
also increased competition and stimulated rivalry. Not only himself, but
both Hardin and Baker desired the nomination, which, as the district
then stood, was equivalent to an election.

When the leading Whigs of Sangamon County met, Lincoln was under the
impression that it was Baker and not Hardin who was his most dangerous
rival, as appears in a letter to Speed of March 24, 1843:

"We had a meeting of the Whigs of the county here on last Monday to
appoint delegates to a district convention, and Baker beat me and got
the delegation instructed to go for him. The meeting, in spite of my
attempt to decline it, appointed me one of the delegates, so that in
getting Baker the nomination I shall be fixed a good deal like a fellow
who is made groomsman to a man that has cut him out and is marrying his
own dear 'gal.'"

The causes that led to his disappointment are set forth more in detail
in a letter, two days later, to a friend in the new county of Menard,
which now included his old home, New Salem, whose powerful assistance
was therefore lost from the party councils of Sangamon. The letter also
dwells more particularly on the complicated influences which the
practical politician has to reckon with, and shows that even his
marriage had been used to turn popular opinion against him.

"It is truly gratifying to me to learn that while the people of Sangamon
have cast me off, my old friends of Menard, who have known me longest
and best, stick to me. It would astonish, if not amuse, the older
citizens to learn that I (a stranger, friendless, uneducated, penniless
boy, working on a flatboat at ten dollars per month) have been put down
here as the candidate of pride, wealth, and aristocratic family
distinction. Yet so, chiefly, it was. There was, too, the strangest
combination of church influence against me. Baker is a Campbellite, and
therefore, as I suppose, with few exceptions got all that church. My
wife has some relations in the Presbyterian churches and some with the
Episcopal churches; and therefore, wherever it would tell, I was set
down as either the one or the other, while it was everywhere contended
that no Christian ought to go for me, because I belonged to no church,
was suspected of being a deist, and had talked about fighting a duel.
With all these things, Baker of course had nothing to do. Nor do I
complain of them. As to his own church going for him, I think that was
right enough, and as to the influences I have spoken of in the other,
though they were very strong, it would be grossly untrue and unjust to
charge that they acted upon them in a body, or were very near so. I only
mean that those influences levied a tax of a considerable per cent. upon
my strength throughout the religious community."

In the same letter we have a striking illustration of Lincoln's
intelligence and skill in the intricate details of political management,
together with the high sense of honor and manliness which directed his
action in such matters. Speaking of the influences of Menard County, he
wrote:

"If she and Mason act circumspectly, they will in the convention be able
so far to enforce their rights as to decide absolutely which one of the
candidates shall be successful. Let me show the reason of this. Hardin,
or some other Morgan candidate, will get Putnam, Marshall, Woodford,
Tazewell, and Logan [counties], making sixteen. Then you and Mason,
having three, can give the victory to either side. You say you shall
instruct your delegates for me, unless I object. I certainly shall not
object. That would be too pleasant a compliment for me to tread in the
dust. And, besides, if anything should happen (which, however, is not
probable) by which Baker should be thrown out of the fight, I would be
at liberty to accept the nomination if I could get it. I do, however,
feel myself bound not to hinder him in any way from getting the
nomination. I should despise myself were I to attempt it. I think, then,
it would be proper for your meeting to appoint three delegates, and to
instruct them to go for some one as a first choice, some one else as a
second, and perhaps some one as a third; and if in those instructions I
were named as the first choice it would gratify me very much. If you
wish to hold the balance of power, it is important for you to attend to
and secure the vote of Mason also."

A few weeks again changed the situation, of which he informed Speed in a
letter dated May 18:

"In relation to our Congress matter here, you were right in supposing I
would support the nominee. Neither Baker nor I, however, is the man--but
Hardin, so far as I can judge from present appearances. We shall have no
split or trouble about the matter; all will be harmony."

In the following year (1844) Lincoln was once more compelled to exercise
his patience. The Campbellite friends of Baker must have again been very
active in behalf of their church favorite; for their influence, added to
his dashing politics and eloquent oratory, appears to have secured him
the nomination without serious contention, while Lincoln found a partial
recompense in being nominated a candidate for presidential elector,
which furnished him opportunity for all his party energy and zeal during
the spirited but unsuccessful presidential campaign for Henry Clay. He
not only made an extensive canvass in Illinois, but also made a number
of speeches in the adjoining State of Indiana.

It was probably during that year that a tacit agreement was reached
among the Whig leaders in Sangamon County, that each would be satisfied
with one term in Congress and would not seek a second nomination. But
Hardin was the aspirant from the neighboring county of Morgan, and
apparently therefore not included in this arrangement. Already, in the
fall of 1845, Lincoln industriously began his appeals and instructions
to his friends in the district to secure the succession. Thus he wrote
on November 17:

"The paper at Pekin has nominated Hardin for governor, and, commenting
on this, the Alton paper indirectly nominated him for Congress. It would
give Hardin a great start, and perhaps use me up, if the Whig papers of
the district should nominate him for Congress. If your feelings toward
me are the same as when I saw you (which I have no reason to doubt), I
wish you would let nothing appear in your paper which may operate
against me. You understand. Matters stand just as they did when I saw
you. Baker is certainly off the track, and I fear Hardin intends to be
on it."

But again, as before, the spirit of absolute fairness governed all his
movements, and he took special pains to guard against it being
"suspected that I was attempting to juggle Hardin out of a nomination
for Congress by juggling him into one for governor." "I should be
pleased," he wrote again in January, "if I could concur with you in the
hope that my name would be the only one presented to the convention; but
I cannot. Hardin is a man of desperate energy and perseverance, and one
that never backs out; and, I fear, to think otherwise is to be deceived
in the character of our adversary. I would rejoice to be spared the
labor of a contest, but, 'being in,' I shall go it thoroughly and to the
bottom." He then goes on to recount in much detail the chances for and
against him in the several counties of the district, and in later
letters discusses the system of selecting candidates, where the
convention ought to be held, how the delegates should be chosen, the
instructions they should receive, and how the places of absent
delegates should be filled. He watched his field of operations, planned
his strategy, and handled his forces almost with the vigilance of a
military commander. As a result, he won both his nomination in May and
his election to the Thirtieth Congress in August, 1846.

In that same year the Mexican War broke out. Hardin became colonel of
one of the three regiments of Illinois volunteers called for by
President Polk, while Baker raised a fourth regiment, which was also
accepted. Colonel Hardin was killed in the battle of Buena Vista, and
Colonel Baker won great distinction in the fighting near the City of
Mexico.

Like Abraham Lincoln, Douglas was also elected to Congress in 1846,
where he had already served the two preceding terms. But these
redoubtable Illinois champions were not to have a personal tilt in the
House of Representatives. Before Congress met, the Illinois legislature
elected Douglas to the United States Senate for six years from March 4,
1847.




VI

First Session of the Thirtieth Congress--Mexican War--"Wilmot
Proviso"--Campaign of 1848--Letters to Herndon about Young Men
in Politics--Speech in Congress on the Mexican War--Second Session
of the Thirtieth Congress--Bill to Prohibit Slavery in the District
of Columbia--Lincoln's Recommendations of Office-Seekers--Letters
to Speed--Commissioner of the General Land Office--Declines Governorship
of Oregon


Very few men are fortunate enough to gain distinction during their first
term in Congress. The reason is obvious. Legally, a term extends over
two years; practically, a session of five or six months during the
first, and three months during the second year ordinarily reduce their
opportunities more than one half. In those two sessions, even if we
presuppose some knowledge of parliamentary law, they must learn the
daily routine of business, make the acquaintance of their
fellow-members, who already, in the Thirtieth Congress, numbered
something over two hundred, study the past and prospective legislation
on a multitude of minor national questions entirely new to the new
members, and perform the drudgery of haunting the departments in the
character of unpaid agent and attorney to attend to the private
interests of constituents--a physical task of no small proportions in
Lincoln's day, when there was neither street-car nor omnibus in the
"city of magnificent distances," as Washington was nicknamed. Add to
this that the principal work of preparing legislation is done by the
various committees in their committee-rooms, of which the public hears
nothing, and that members cannot choose their own time for making
speeches; still further, that the management of debate on prepared
legislation must necessarily be intrusted to members of long experience
as well as talent, and it will be seen that the novice need not expect
immediate fame.

It is therefore not to be wondered at that Lincoln's single term in the
House of Representatives at Washington added practically nothing to his
reputation. He did not attempt to shine forth in debate by either a
stinging retort or a witty epigram, or by a sudden burst of inspired
eloquence. On the contrary, he took up his task as a quiet but earnest
and patient apprentice in the great workshop of national legislation,
and performed his share of duty with industry and intelligence, as well
as with a modest and appreciative respect for the ability and experience
of his seniors.

"As to speech-making," he wrote, "by way of getting the hang of the
House, I made a little speech two or three days ago on a post-office
question of no general interest. I find speaking here and elsewhere
about the same thing. I was about as badly scared, and no worse, as I am
when I speak in court. I expect to make one within a week or two in
which I hope to succeed well enough to wish you to see it." And again,
some weeks later: "I just take my pen to say that Mr. Stephens of
Georgia, a little, slim, pale-faced consumptive man with a voice like
Logan's, has just concluded the very best speech of an hour's length I
ever heard. My old, withered, dry eyes are full of tears yet."

He was appointed the junior Whig member of the Committee on Post-offices
and Post-roads, and shared its prosaic but eminently useful labors both
in the committee-room and the House debates. His name appears on only
one other committee,--that on Expenditures of the War Department,--and
he seems to have interested himself in certain amendments of the law
relating to bounty lands for soldiers and such minor military topics. He
looked carefully after the interests of Illinois in certain grants of
land to that State for railroads, but expressed his desire that the
government price of the reserved sections should not be increased to
actual settlers.

During the first session of the Thirtieth Congress he delivered three
set speeches in the House, all of them carefully prepared and fully
written out. The first of these, on January 12, 1848, was an elaborate
defense of the Whig doctrine summarized in a House resolution passed a
week or ten days before, that the Mexican War "had been unnecessarily
and unconstitutionally commenced by the President," James K. Polk. The
speech is not a mere party diatribe, but a terse historical and legal
examination of the origin of the Mexican War. In the after-light of our
own times which shines upon these transactions, we may readily admit
that Mr. Lincoln and the Whigs had the best of the argument, but it must
be quite as readily conceded that they were far behind the President and
his defenders in political and party strategy. The former were clearly
wasting their time in discussing an abstract question of international
law upon conditions existing twenty months before. During those twenty
months the American arms had won victory after victory, and planted the
American flag on the "halls of the Montezumas." Could even successful
argument undo those victories or call back to life the brave American
soldiers who had shed their blood to win them?

It may be assumed as an axiom that Providence has never gifted any
political party with all of political wisdom or blinded it with all of
political folly. Upon the foregoing point of controversy the Whigs were
sadly thrown on the defensive, and labored heavily under their already
discounted declamation. But instinct rather than sagacity led them to
turn their eyes to the future, and successfully upon other points to
retrieve their mistake. Within six weeks after Lincoln's speech
President Polk sent to the Senate a treaty of peace, under which Mexico
ceded to the United States an extent of territory equal in area to
Germany, France, and Spain combined, and thereafter the origin of the
war was an obsolete question. What should be done with the new territory
was now the issue.

This issue embraced the already exciting slavery question, and Mr.
Lincoln was doubtless gratified that the Whigs had taken a position upon
it so consonant with his own convictions. Already, in the previous
Congress, the body of the Whig members had joined a small group of
antislavery Democrats in fastening upon an appropriation bill the famous
"Wilmot Proviso," that slavery should never exist in territory acquired
from Mexico, and the Whigs of the Thirtieth Congress steadily followed
the policy of voting for the same restriction in regard to every piece
of legislation where it was applicable. Mr. Lincoln often said he had
voted forty or fifty times for the Wilmot Proviso in various forms
during his single term.

Upon another point he and the other Whigs were equally wise. Repelling
the Democratic charge that they were unpatriotic in denouncing the war,
they voted in favor of every measure to sustain, supply, and encourage
the soldiers in the field. But their most adroit piece of strategy, now
that the war was ended, was in their movement to make General Taylor
President.

In this movement Mr. Lincoln took a leading and active part. No living
American statesman has ever been idolized by his party adherents as was
Henry Clay for a whole generation, and Mr. Lincoln fully shared this
hero-worship. But his practical campaigning as a candidate for
presidential elector in the Harrison campaign of 1840, and the Clay
campaign of 1844, in Illinois and the adjoining States, afforded him a
basis for sound judgment, and convinced him that the day when Clay could
have been elected President was forever passed.

"Mr. Clay's chance for an election is just no chance at all," he wrote
on April 30. "He might get New York, and that would have elected in
1844, but it will not now, because he must now, at the least, lose
Tennessee which he had then, and in addition the fifteen new votes of
Florida, Texas, Iowa, and Wisconsin.... In my judgment, we can elect
nobody but General Taylor; and we cannot elect him without a nomination.
Therefore don't fail to send a delegate." And again on the same day:
"Mr. Clay's letter has not advanced his interests any here. Several who
were against Taylor, but not for anybody particularly before, are since
taking ground, some for Scott and some for McLean. Who will be nominated
neither I nor any one else can tell. Now, let me pray to you in turn. My
prayer is that you let nothing discourage or baffle you, but that, in
spite of every difficulty, you send us a good Taylor delegate from your
circuit. Make Baker, who is now with you, I suppose, help about it. He
is a good hand to raise a breeze."

In due time Mr. Lincoln's sagacity and earnestness were both justified;
for on June 12 he was able to write to an Illinois friend:

"On my return from Philadelphia, where I had been attending the
nomination of 'Old Rough,' I found your letter in a mass of others which
had accumulated in my absence. By many, and often, it had been said they
would not abide the nomination of Taylor; but since the deed has been
done, they are fast falling in, and in my opinion we shall have a most
overwhelming, glorious triumph. One unmistakable sign is that all the
odds and ends are with us--Barnburners, Native Americans, Tyler men,
disappointed office-seeking Locofocos, and the Lord knows what. This is
important, if in nothing else, in showing which way the wind blows. Some
of the sanguine men have set down all the States as certain for Taylor
but Illinois, and it as doubtful. Cannot something be done even in
Illinois? Taylor's nomination takes the Locos on the blind side. It
turns the war-thunder against them. The war is now to them the gallows
of Haman, which they built for us, and on which they are doomed to be
hanged themselves."

Nobody understood better than Mr. Lincoln the obvious truth that in
politics it does not suffice merely to nominate candidates. Something
must also be done to elect them. Two of the letters which he at this
time wrote home to his young law partner, William H. Herndon, are
especially worth quoting in part, not alone to show his own zeal and
industry, but also as a perennial instruction and encouragement to young
men who have an ambition to make a name and a place for themselves in
American politics:

"Last night I was attending a sort of caucus of the Whig members, held
in relation to the coming presidential election. The whole field of the
nation was scanned, and all is high hope and confidence.... Now, as to
the young men. You must not wait to be brought forward by the older men.
For instance, do you suppose that I should ever have got into notice if
I had waited to be hunted up and pushed forward by older men? You young
men get together and form a 'Rough and Ready Club,' and have regular
meetings and speeches.... Let every one play the part he can play
best,--some speak, some sing, and all 'holler.' Your meetings will be of
evenings; the older men, and the women, will go to hear you; so that it
will not only contribute to the election of 'Old Zach,' but will be an
interesting pastime, and improving to the intellectual faculties of all
engaged."

And in another letter, answering one from Herndon in which that young
aspirant complains of having been neglected, he says:

"The subject of that letter is exceedingly painful to me; and I cannot
but think there is some mistake in your impression of the motives of the
old men. I suppose I am now one of the old men; and I declare, on my
veracity, which I think is good with you, that nothing could afford me
more satisfaction than to learn that you and others of my young friends
at home are doing battle in the contest, and endearing themselves to the
people, and taking a stand far above any I have been able to reach in
their admiration. I cannot conceive that other old men feel differently.
Of course I cannot demonstrate what I say; but I was young once, and I
am sure I was never ungenerously thrust back. I hardly know what to say.
The way for a young man to rise is to improve himself every way he can,
never suspecting that anybody wishes to hinder him. Allow me to assure
you that suspicion and jealousy never did help any man in any situation.
There may sometimes be ungenerous attempts to keep a young man down; and
they will succeed, too, if he allows his mind to be diverted from its
true channel to brood over the attempted injury. Cast about, and see if
this feeling has not injured every person you have ever known to fall
into it."

Mr. Lincoln's interest in this presidential campaign did not expend
itself merely in advice to others. We have his own written record that
he also took an active part for the election of General Taylor after his
nomination, speaking a few times in Maryland near Washington, several
times in Massachusetts, and canvassing quite fully his own district in
Illinois. Before the session of Congress ended he also delivered two
speeches in the House--one on the general subject of internal
improvements, and the other the usual political campaign speech which
members of Congress are in the habit of making to be printed for home
circulation; made up mainly of humorous and satirical criticism,
favoring the election of General Taylor, and opposing the election of
General Cass, the Democratic candidate. Even this production, however,
is lighted up by a passage of impressive earnestness and eloquence, in
which he explains and defends the attitude of the Whigs in denouncing
the origin of the Mexican War:

"If to say 'the war was unnecessarily and unconstitutionally commenced
by the President,' be opposing the war, then the Whigs have very
generally opposed it. Whenever they have spoken at all they have said
this; and they have said it on what has appeared good reason to them.
The marching an army into the midst of a peaceful Mexican settlement,
frightening the inhabitants away, leaving their growing crops and other
property to destruction, to you may appear a perfectly amiable,
peaceful, unprovoking procedure; but it does not appear so to us. So to
call such an act, to us appears no other than a naked, impudent
absurdity, and we speak of it accordingly. But if, when the war had
begun, and had become the cause of the country, the giving of our money
and our blood, in common with yours, was support of the war, then it is
not true that we have always opposed the war. With few individual
exceptions, you have constantly had our votes here for all the necessary
supplies. And, more than this, you have had the services, the blood, and
the lives of our political brethren in every trial and on every field.
The beardless boy and the mature man, the humble and the
distinguished--you have had them. Through suffering and death, by
disease and in battle, they have endured, and fought and fell with you.
Clay and Webster each gave a son, never to be returned. From the State
of my own residence, besides other worthy but less known Whig names, we
sent Marshall, Morrison, Baker, and Hardin; they all fought and one
fell, and in the fall of that one we lost our best Whig man. Nor were
the Whigs few in number or laggard in the day of danger. In that
fearful, bloody, breathless struggle at Buena Vista, where each man's
hard task was to beat back five foes or die himself, of the five high
officers who perished, four were Whigs. In speaking of this, I mean no
odious comparison between the lion-hearted Whigs and the Democrats who
fought there. On other occasions, and among the lower officers and
privates on that occasion, I doubt not the proportion was different. I
wish to do justice to all. I think of all those brave men as Americans,
in whose proud fame, as an American, I, too, have a share. Many of them,
Whigs and Democrats, are my constituents and personal friends; and I
thank them--more than thank them--one and all, for the high,
imperishable honor they have conferred on our common State."

During the second session of the Thirtieth Congress Mr. Lincoln made no
long speeches, but in addition to the usual routine work devolved on him
by the committee of which he was a member, he busied himself in
preparing a special measure which, because of its relation to the great
events of his later life, needs to be particularly mentioned. Slavery
existed in Maryland and Virginia when these States ceded the territory
out of which the District of Columbia was formed. Since, by that
cession, this land passed under the exclusive control of the Federal
government, the "institution" within this ten miles square could no
longer be defended by the plea of State sovereignty, and antislavery
sentiment naturally demanded that it should cease. Pro-slavery
statesmen, on the other hand, as persistently opposed its removal,
partly as a matter of pride and political consistency, partly because it
was a convenience to Southern senators and members of Congress, when
they came to Washington, to bring their family servants where the local
laws afforded them the same security over their black chattels which
existed at their homes. Mr. Lincoln, in his Peoria speech in 1854,
emphasized the sectional dispute with this vivid touch of local color:

"The South clamored for a more efficient fugitive-slave law. The North
clamored for the abolition of a peculiar species of slave trade in the
District of Columbia, in connection with which, in view from the windows
of the Capitol, a sort of negro livery-stable, where droves of negroes
were collected, temporarily kept, and finally taken to Southern markets,
precisely like droves of horses, had been openly maintained for fifty
years."

Thus the question remained a minor but never ending bone of contention
and point of irritation, and excited debate arose in the Thirtieth
Congress over a House resolution that the Committee on the Judiciary be
instructed to report a bill as soon as practicable prohibiting the slave
trade in the District of Columbia. In this situation of affairs, Mr.
Lincoln conceived the fond hope that he might be able to present a plan
of compromise. He already entertained the idea which in later years
during his presidency he urged upon both Congress and the border slave
States, that the just and generous mode of getting rid of the barbarous
institution of slavery was by a system of compensated emancipation
giving freedom to the slave and a money indemnity to the owner. He
therefore carefully framed a bill providing for the abolishment of
slavery in the District upon the following principal conditions:

_First_. That the law should be adopted by a popular vote in the
District.

_Second_. A temporary system of apprenticeship and gradual emancipation
for children born of slave mothers after January 1, 1850.

_Third_. The government to pay full cash value for slaves voluntarily
manumitted by their owners.

_Fourth_. Prohibiting bringing slaves into the District, or selling them
out of it.

_Fifth_. Providing that government officers, citizens of slave States,
might bring with them and take away again, their slave house-servants.

_Sixth_. Leaving the existing fugitive-slave law in force.

When Mr. Lincoln presented this amendment to the House, he said that he
was authorized to state that of about fifteen of the leading citizens of
the District of Columbia, to whom the proposition had been submitted,
there was not one who did not approve the adoption of such a
proposition. He did not wish to be misunderstood. He did not know
whether or not they would vote for this bill on the first Monday in
April; but he repeated that out of fifteen persons to whom it had been
submitted, he had authority to say that every one of them desired that
some proposition like this should pass.

While Mr. Lincoln did not so state to the House, it was well understood
in intimate circles that the bill had the approval on the one hand of
Mr. Seaton, the conservative mayor of Washington, and on the other hand
of Mr. Giddings, the radical antislavery member of the House of
Representatives. Notwithstanding the singular merit of the bill in
reconciling such extremes of opposing factions in its support, the
temper of Congress had already become too hot to accept such a rational
and practical solution, and Mr. Lincoln's wise proposition was not
allowed to come to a vote.

The triumphant election of General Taylor to the presidency in November,
1848, very soon devolved upon Mr. Lincoln the delicate and difficult
duty of making recommendations to the incoming administration of persons
suitable to be appointed to fill the various Federal offices in
Illinois, as Colonel E.D. Baker and himself were the only Whigs elected
to Congress from that State. In performing this duty, one of his leading
characteristics, impartial honesty and absolute fairness to political
friends and foes alike, stands out with noteworthy clearness. His term
ended with General Taylor's inauguration, and he appears to have
remained in Washington but a few days thereafter. Before leaving, he
wrote to the new Secretary of the Treasury:

"Colonel E.D. Baker and myself are the only Whig members of Congress
from Illinois--I of the Thirtieth, and he of the Thirty-first. We have
reason to think the Whigs of that State hold us responsible, to some
extent, for the appointments which may be made of our citizens. We do
not know you personally, and our efforts to see you have, so far, been
unavailing. I therefore hope I am not obtrusive in saying in this way,
for him and myself, that when a citizen of Illinois is to be appointed,
in your department, to an office, either in or out of the State, we most
respectfully ask to be heard."

On the following day, March 10, 1849, he addressed to the Secretary of
State his first formal recommendation. It is remarkable from the fact
that between the two Whig applicants whose papers are transmitted, he
says rather less in favor of his own choice than of the opposing
claimant.

"SIR: There are several applicants for the office of United States
Marshal for the District of Illinois, among the most prominent of whom
are Benjamin Bond, Esq., of Carlyle, and ---- Thomas, Esq., of Galena.
Mr. Bond I know to be personally every way worthy of the office; and he
is very numerously and most respectably recommended. His papers I send
to you; and I solicit for his claims a full and fair consideration.
Having said this much, I add that in my individual judgment the
appointment of Mr. Thomas would be the better.

     "Your obedient servant,
     "A. LINCOLN"

(Indorsed on Mr. Bond's papers.)

"In this and the accompanying envelop are the recommendations of about
two hundred good citizens, of all parts of Illinois, that Benjamin Bond
be appointed marshal for that district. They include the names of nearly
all our Whigs who now are, or have ever been, members of the State
legislature, besides forty-six of the Democratic members of the present
legislature, and many other good citizens. I add that from personal
knowledge I consider Mr. Bond every way worthy of the office, and
qualified to fill it. Holding the individual opinion that the
appointment of a different gentleman would be better, I ask especial
attention and consideration for his claims, and for the opinions
expressed in his favor by those over whom I can claim no superiority."

There were but three other prominent Federal appointments to be made in
Mr. Lincoln's congressional district, and he waited until after his
return home so that he might be better informed of the local opinion
concerning them before making his recommendations. It was nearly a month
after he left Washington before he sent his decision to the several
departments at Washington. The letter quoted below, relating to one of
these appointments, is in substance almost identical with the others,
and particularly refrains from expressing any opinion of his own for or
against the policy of political removals. He also expressly explains
that Colonel Baker, the other Whig representative, claims no voice in
the appointment.

"DEAR SIR: I recommend that Walter Davis be appointed Receiver of the
Land Office at this place, whenever there shall be a vacancy. I cannot
say that Mr. Herndon, the present incumbent, has failed in the proper
discharge of any of the duties of the office. He is a very warm
partizan, and openly and actively opposed to the election of General
Taylor. I also understand that since General Taylor's election he has
received a reappointment from Mr. Polk, his old commission not having
expired. Whether this is true the records of the department will show. I
may add that the Whigs here almost universally desire his removal."

If Mr. Lincoln's presence in Washington during two sessions in Congress
did not add materially to either his local or national fame, it was of
incalculable benefit in other respects. It afforded him a close
inspection of the complex machinery of the Federal government and its
relation to that of the States, and enabled him to notice both the easy
routine and the occasional friction of their movements. It brought him
into contact and, to some degree, intimate companionship with political
leaders from all parts of the Union, and gave him the opportunity of
joining in the caucus and the national convention that nominated General
Taylor for President. It broadened immensely the horizon of his
observation, and the sharp personal rivalries he noted at the center of
the nation opened to him new lessons in the study of human nature. His
quick intelligence acquired knowledge quite as, or even more, rapidly by
process of logical intuition than by mere dry, laborious study; and it
was the inestimable experience of this single term in the Congress of
the United States which prepared him for his coming, yet undreamed-of,
responsibilities, as fully as it would have done the ordinary man in a
dozen.

Mr. Lincoln had frankly acknowledged to his friend Speed, after his
election in 1846, that "being elected to Congress, though I am very
grateful to our friends for having done it, has not pleased me as much
as I expected." It has already been said that an agreement had been
reached among the several Springfield aspirants, that they would limit
their ambition to a single term, and take turns in securing and enjoying
the coveted distinction; and Mr. Lincoln remained faithful to this
agreement. When the time to prepare for the election of 1848 approached,
he wrote to his law partner:

"It is very pleasant to learn from you that there are some who desire
that I should be reëlected. I most heartily thank them for their kind
partiality; and I can say, as Mr. Clay said of the annexation of Texas,
that 'personally I would not object' to a reëlection, although I thought
at the time, and still think, it would be quite as well for me to
return to the law at the end of a single term. I made the declaration
that I would not be a candidate again, more from a wish to deal fairly
with others, to keep peace among our friends, and to keep the district
from going to the enemy, than for any cause personal to myself; so that,
if it should so happen that nobody else wishes to be elected, I could
not refuse the people the right of sending me again. But to enter myself
as a competitor of others, or to authorize any one so to enter me, is
what my word and honor forbid."

Judge Stephen T. Logan, his late law partner, was nominated for the
place, and heartily supported not only by Mr. Lincoln, but also by the
Whigs of the district. By this time, however, the politics of the
district had undergone a change by reason of the heavy emigration to
Illinois at that period, and Judge Logan was defeated.

Mr. Lincoln's strict and sensitive adherence to his promises now brought
him a disappointment which was one of those blessings in disguise so
commonly deplored for the time being by the wisest and best. A number of
the Western members of Congress had joined in a recommendation to
President-elect Taylor to give Colonel E.D. Baker a place in his
cabinet, a reward he richly deserved for his talents, his party service,
and the military honor he had won in the Mexican War. When this
application bore no fruit, the Whigs of Illinois, expecting at least
some encouragement from the new administration, laid claim to a bureau
appointment, that of Commissioner of the General Land Office, in the new
Department of the Interior, recently established.

"I believe that, so far as the Whigs in Congress are concerned," wrote
Lincoln to Speed twelve days before Taylor's inauguration, "I could
have the General Land Office almost by common consent; but then Sweet
and Don Morrison and Browning and Cyrus Edwards all want it, and what is
worse, while I think I could easily take it myself, I fear I shall have
trouble to get it for any other man in Illinois."

Unselfishly yielding his own chances, he tried to induce the four
Illinois candidates to come to a mutual agreement in favor of one of
their own number. They were so tardy in settling their differences as to
excite his impatience, and he wrote to a Washington friend:

"I learn from Washington that a man by the name of Butterfield will
probably be appointed Commissioner of the General Land Office, This
ought not to be.... Some kind friends think I ought to be an applicant,
but I am for Mr. Edwards. Try to defeat Butterfield, and, in doing so,
use Mr. Edwards, J.L.D. Morrison, or myself, whichever you can to best
advantage."

As the situation grew persistently worse, Mr. Lincoln at length, about
the first of June, himself became a formal applicant. But the delay
resulting from his devotion to his friends had dissipated his chances.
Butterfield received the appointment, and the defeat was aggravated
when, a few months later, his unrelenting spirit of justice and fairness
impelled him to write a letter defending Butterfield and the Secretary
of the Interior from an attack by one of Lincoln's warm personal but
indiscreet friends in the Illinois legislature. It was, however, a
fortunate escape. In the four succeeding years Mr. Lincoln qualified
himself for better things than the monotonous drudgery of an
administrative bureau at Washington. It is probable that this defeat
also enabled him more easily to pass by another temptation. The Taylor
administration, realizing its ingratitude, at length, in September,
offered him the governorship of the recently organized territory of
Oregon; but he replied:

"On as much reflection as I have had time to give the subject, I cannot
consent to accept it."




VII

Repeal of the Missouri Compromise--State Fair Debate--Peoria
Debate--Trumbull Elected--Letter to Robinson--The Know-Nothings--Decatur
Meeting--Bloomington Convention--Philadelphia Convention--Lincoln's Vote
for Vice-President--Frémont and Dayton--Lincoln's Campaign
Speeches--Chicago Banquet Speech


After the expiration of his term in Congress Mr. Lincoln applied himself
with unremitting assiduity to the practice of law, which the growth of
the State in population, and the widening of his acquaintanceship no
less than his own growth in experience and legal acumen, rendered ever
more important and absorbing.

"In 1854," he writes, "his profession had almost superseded the thought
of politics in his mind, when the repeal of the Missouri Compromise
aroused him as he had never been before."

Not alone Mr. Lincoln, but, indeed, the whole nation, was so
aroused--the Democratic party, and nearly the entire South, to force the
passage of that repeal through Congress, and an alarmed majority,
including even a considerable minority of the Democratic party in the
North, to resist its passage.

Mr. Lincoln, of course, shared the general indignation of Northern
sentiment that the whole of the remaining Louisiana Territory, out of
which six States, and the greater part of two more, have since been
organized and admitted to the Union, should be opened to the possible
extension of slavery. But two points served specially to enlist his
energy in the controversy. One was personal, in that Senator Douglas of
Illinois, by whom the repeal was championed, and whose influence as a
free-State senator and powerful Democratic leader alone made the repeal
possible, had been his personal antagonist in Illinois politics for
almost twenty years. The other was moral, in that the new question
involved the elemental principles of the American government, the
fundamental maxim of the Declaration of Independence, that all men are
created equal. His intuitive logic needed no demonstration that bank,
tariff, internal improvements, the Mexican War, and their related
incidents, were questions of passing expediency; but that this sudden
reaction, needlessly grafted upon a routine statute to organize a new
territory, was the unmistakable herald of a coming struggle which might
transform republican institutions.

It was in January, 1854, that the accidents of a Senate debate threw
into Congress and upon the country the firebrand of the repeal of the
Missouri Compromise. The repeal was not consummated till the month of
May; and from May until the autumn elections the flame of acrimonious
discussion ran over the whole country like a wild fire. There is no
record that Mr. Lincoln took any public part in the discussion until the
month of September, but it is very clear that he not only carefully
watched its progress, but that he studied its phases of development, its
historical origins, and its legal bearings with close industry, and
gathered from party literature and legislative documents a harvest of
substantial facts and data, rather than the wordy campaign phrases and
explosive epithets with which more impulsive students and speakers were
content to produce their oratorical effects. Here we may again quote
Mr. Lincoln's exact written statement of the manner in which he resumed
his political activity:

"In the autumn of that year [1854] he took the stump, with no broader
practical aim or object than to secure, if possible, the reëlection of
Hon. Richard Yates to Congress. His speeches at once attracted a more
marked attention than they had ever before done. As the canvass
proceeded he was drawn to different parts of the State, outside of Mr.
Yates's district. He did not abandon the law, but gave his attention by
turns to that and politics. The State Agricultural Fair was at
Springfield that year, and Douglas was announced to speak there."

The new question had created great excitement and uncertainty in
Illinois politics, and there were abundant signs that it was beginning
to break up the organization of both the Whig and the Democratic
parties. This feeling brought together at the State fair an unusual
number of local leaders from widely scattered counties, and almost
spontaneously a sort of political tournament of speech-making broke out.
In this Senator Douglas, doubly conspicuous by his championship of the
Nebraska Bill in Congress, was expected to play the leading part, while
the opposition, by a common impulse, called upon Lincoln to answer him.
Lincoln performed the task with such aptness and force, with such
freshness of argument, illustrations from history, and citations from
authorities, as secured him a decided oratorical triumph, and lifted him
at a single bound to the leadership of the opposition to Douglas's
propagandism. Two weeks later, Douglas and Lincoln met at Peoria in a
similar debate, and on his return to Springfield Lincoln wrote out and
printed his speech in full.

The reader who carefully examines this speech will at once be impressed
with the genius which immediately made Mr. Lincoln a power in American
politics. His grasp of the subject is so comprehensive, his statement so
clear, his reasoning so convincing, his language so strong and eloquent
by turns, that the wonderful power he manifested in the discussions and
debates of the six succeeding years does not surpass, but only amplifies
this, his first examination of the whole brood of questions relating to
slavery precipitated upon the country by Douglas's repeal. After a
searching history of the Missouri Compromise, he attacks the
demoralizing effects and portentous consequences of its repeal.

"This declared indifference," he says, "but, as I must think, covert
real zeal for the spread of slavery, I cannot but hate. I hate it
because of the monstrous injustice of slavery itself. I hate it because
it deprives our republican example of its just influence in the world;
enables the enemies of free institutions, with plausibility, to taunt us
as hypocrites; causes the real friends of freedom to doubt our
sincerity; and especially because it forces so many good men among
ourselves into an open war with the very fundamental principles of civil
liberty, criticizing the Declaration of Independence, and insisting that
there is no right principle of action but self-interest.... Slavery is
founded in the selfishness of man's nature--opposition to it in his love
of justice. These principles are an eternal antagonism, and when brought
into collision so fiercely as slavery extension brings them, shocks and
throes and convulsions must ceaselessly follow. Repeal the Missouri
Compromise, repeal all compromises, repeal the Declaration of
Independence, repeal all past history, you still cannot repeal human
nature. It still will be the abundance of man's heart that slavery
extension is wrong, and out of the abundance of his heart his mouth
will continue to speak."

With argument as impetuous, and logic as inexorable, he disposes of
Douglas's plea of popular sovereignty:

"Here, or at Washington, I would not trouble myself with the oyster laws
of Virginia, or the cranberry laws of Indiana. The doctrine of
self-government is right--absolutely and eternally right--but it has no
just application as here attempted. Or perhaps I should rather say, that
whether it has such application depends upon whether a negro is not or
is a man. If he is not a man, in that case, he who is a man may, as a
matter of self-government, do just what he pleases with him. But if the
negro is a man, is it not to that extent a total destruction of
self-government to say that he too shall not govern himself? When the
white man governs himself, that is self-government; but when he governs
himself and also governs another man, that is more than
self-government--that is despotism.... I particularly object to the new
position which the avowed principle of this Nebraska law gives to
slavery in the body politic. I object to it because it assumes that
there can be moral right in the enslaving of one man by another. I
object to it as a dangerous dalliance for a free people--a sad evidence
that, feeling prosperity, we forget right; that liberty, as a principle,
we have ceased to revere.... Little by little, but steadily as man's
march to the grave, we have been giving up the old for the new faith.
Near eighty years ago we began by declaring that all men are created
equal; but now, from that beginning, we have run down to the other
declaration, that for some men to enslave others is a 'sacred right of
self-government.' These principles cannot stand together. They are as
opposite as God and Mammon."

If one compares the serious tone of this speech with the hard cider and
coon-skin buncombe of the Harrison campaign of 1840, and its lofty
philosophical thought with the humorous declamation of the Taylor
campaign of 1848, the speaker's advance in mental development at once
becomes apparent. In this single effort Mr. Lincoln had risen from the
class of the politician to the rank of the statesman. There is a
well-founded tradition that Douglas, disconcerted and troubled by
Lincoln's unexpected manifestation of power in the Springfield and
Peoria debates, sought a friendly interview with his opponent, and
obtained from him an agreement that neither one of them would make any
further speeches before the election.

The local interest in the campaign was greatly heightened by the fact
that the term of Douglas's Democratic colleague in the United States
Senate was about to expire, and that the State legislature to be elected
would have the choosing of his successor. It is not probable that
Lincoln built much hope upon this coming political chance, as the
Democratic party had been throughout the whole history of the State in
decided political control. It turned out, nevertheless, that in the
election held on November 7, an opposition majority of members of the
legislature was chosen, and Lincoln became, to outward appearances, the
most available opposition candidate. But party disintegration had been
only partial. Lincoln and his party friends still called themselves
Whigs, though they could muster only a minority of the total membership
of the legislature. The so-called Anti-Nebraska Democrats, opposing
Douglas and his followers, were still too full of traditional party
prejudice to help elect a pronounced Whig to the United States Senate,
though as strongly "Anti-Nebraska" as themselves. Five of them brought
forward, and stubbornly voted for, Lyman Trumbull, an Anti-Nebraska
Democrat of ability, who had been chosen representative in Congress from
the eighth Illinois District in the recent election. On the ninth ballot
it became evident to Lincoln that there was danger of a new Democratic
candidate, neutral on the Nebraska question, being chosen. In this
contingency, he manifested a personal generosity and political sagacity
far above the comprehension of the ordinary smart politician. He advised
and prevailed upon his Whig supporters to vote for Trumbull, and thus
secure a vote in the United States Senate against slavery extension. He
had rightly interpreted both statesmanship and human nature. His
personal sacrifice on this occasion contributed essentially to the
coming political regeneration of his State; and the five Anti-Nebraska
Democrats, who then wrought his defeat, became his most devoted personal
followers and efficient allies in his own later political triumph, which
adverse currents, however, were still to delay to a tantalizing degree.
The circumstances of his defeat at that critical stage of his career
must have seemed especially irritating, yet he preserved a most
remarkable equanimity of temper. "I regret my defeat moderately," he
wrote to a sympathizing friend, "but I am not nervous about it."

We may fairly infer that while Mr. Lincoln was not "nervous," he was
nevertheless deeply impressed by the circumstance as an illustration of
the grave nature of the pending political controversy. A letter written
by him about half a year later to a friend in Kentucky, is full of such
serious reflection as to show that the existing political conditions in
the United States had engaged his most profound thought and
investigation.

"That spirit," he wrote, "which desired the peaceful extinction of
slavery has itself become extinct with the occasion and the men of the
Revolution. Under the impulse of that occasion, nearly half the States
adopted systems of emancipation at once, and it is a significant fact
that not a single State has done the like since. So far as peaceful
voluntary emancipation is concerned, the condition of the negro slave in
America, scarcely less terrible to the contemplation of a free mind, is
now as fixed and hopeless of change for the better as that of the lost
souls of the finally impenitent. The Autocrat of all the Russias will
resign his crown and proclaim his subjects free republicans sooner than
will our American masters voluntarily give up their slaves. Our
political problem now is, 'Can we as a nation continue together
permanently--forever--half slave and half free?' The problem is too
mighty for me--may God, in his mercy, superintend the solution."

Not quite three years later Mr. Lincoln made the concluding problem of
this letter the text of a famous speech. On the day before his first
inauguration as President of the United States, the "Autocrat of all the
Russias," Alexander II, by imperial decree emancipated his serfs; while
six weeks after the inauguration the "American masters," headed by
Jefferson Davis, began the greatest war of modern times to perpetuate
and spread the institution of slavery.

The excitement produced by the repeal of the Missouri Compromise in
1854, by the election forays of the Missouri Border Ruffians into Kansas
in 1855, and by the succeeding civil strife in 1856 in that Territory,
wrought an effective transformation of political parties in the Union,
in preparation for the presidential election of that year. This
transformation, though not seriously checked, was very considerably
complicated by an entirely new faction, or rather by the sudden revival
of an old one, which in the past had called itself Native Americanism,
and now assumed the name of the American Party, though it was more
popularly known by the nickname of "Know-Nothings," because of its
secret organization. It professed a certain hostility to foreign-born
voters and to the Catholic religion, and demanded a change in the
naturalization laws from a five years' to a twenty-one years'
preliminary residence. This faction had gained some sporadic successes
in Eastern cities, but when its national convention met in February,
1856, to nominate candidates for President and Vice-President, the
pending slavery question, that it had hitherto studiously ignored,
caused a disruption of its organization; and though the adhering
delegates nominated Millard Fillmore for President and A.J. Donelson for
Vice-President, who remained in the field and were voted for, to some
extent, in the presidential election, the organization was present only
as a crippled and disturbing factor, and disappeared totally from
politics in the following years.

Both North and South, party lines adjusted themselves defiantly upon the
single issue, for or against men and measures representing the extension
or restriction of slavery. The Democratic party, though radically
changing its constituent elements, retained the party name, and became
the party of slavery extension, having forced the repeal and supported
the resulting measures; while the Whig party entirely disappeared, its
members in the Northern States joining the Anti-Nebraska Democrats in
the formation of the new Republican party. Southern Whigs either went
boldly into the Democratic camp, or followed for a while the delusive
prospects of the Know-Nothings.

This party change went on somewhat slowly in the State of Illinois,
because that State extended in territorial length from the latitude of
Massachusetts to that of Virginia, and its population contained an
equally diverse local sentiment. The northern counties had at once
become strongly Anti-Nebraska; the conservative Whig counties of the
center inclined to the Know-Nothings; while the Kentuckians and
Carolinians, who had settled the southern end, had strong antipathies to
what they called abolitionism, and applauded Douglas and repeal.

The agitation, however, swept on, and further hesitation became
impossible. Early in 1856 Mr. Lincoln began to take an active part in
organizing the Republican party. He attended a small gathering of
Anti-Nebraska editors in February, at Decatur, who issued a call for a
mass convention which met at Bloomington in May, at which the Republican
party of Illinois was formally constituted by an enthusiastic gathering
of local leaders who had formerly been bitter antagonists, but who now
joined their efforts to resist slavery extension. They formulated an
emphatic but not radical platform, and through a committee selected a
composite ticket of candidates for State offices, which the convention
approved by acclamation. The occasion remains memorable because of the
closing address made by Mr. Lincoln in one of his most impressive
oratorical moods. So completely were his auditors carried away by the
force of his denunciation of existing political evils, and by the
eloquence of his appeal for harmony and union to redress them, that
neither a verbatim report nor even an authentic abstract was made during
its delivery: but the lifting inspiration of its periods will never fade
from the memory of those who heard it.

About three weeks later, the first national convention of the Republican
party met at Philadelphia, and nominated John C. Frémont of California
for President. There was a certain fitness in this selection, from the
fact that he had been elected to the United States Senate when
California applied for admission as a free State, and that the
resistance of the South to her admission had been the entering wedge of
the slavery agitation of 1850. This, however, was in reality a minor
consideration. It was rather his romantic fame as a daring Rocky
Mountain explorer, appealing strongly to popular imagination and
sympathy, which gave him prestige as a presidential candidate.

It was at this point that the career of Abraham Lincoln had a narrow and
fortunate escape from a premature and fatal prominence. The Illinois
Bloomington convention had sent him as a delegate to the Philadelphia
convention; and, no doubt very unexpectedly to himself, on the first
ballot for a candidate for Vice-President he received one hundred and
ten votes against two hundred and fifty-nine votes for William L. Dayton
of New Jersey, upon which the choice of Mr. Dayton was at once made
unanimous. But the incident proves that Mr. Lincoln was already gaining
a national fame among the advanced leaders of political thought.
Happily, a mysterious Providence reserved him for larger and nobler
uses.

The nominations thus made at Philadelphia completed the array for the
presidential battle of 1856. The Democratic national convention had met
at Cincinnati on June 2, and nominated James Buchanan for President and
John C. Breckinridge for Vice-President. Its work presented two points
of noteworthy interest, namely: that the South, in an arrogant
pro-slavery dictatorship, relentlessly cast aside the claims of Douglas
and Pierce, who had effected the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, and
nominated Buchanan, in apparently sure confidence of that
super-serviceable zeal in behalf of slavery which he so obediently
rendered; also, that in a platform of intolerable length there was such
a cunning ambiguity of word and concealment of sense, such a double
dealing of phrase and meaning, as to render it possible that the
pro-slavery Democrats of the South and some antislavery Democrats of the
North might join for the last time to elect a "Northern man with
Southern principles."

Again, in this campaign, as in several former presidential elections,
Mr. Lincoln was placed upon the electoral ticket of Illinois, and he
made over fifty speeches in his own and adjoining States in behalf of
Frémont and Dayton. Not one of these speeches was reported in full, but
the few fragments which have been preserved show that he occupied no
doubtful ground on the pending issues. Already the Democrats were
raising the potent alarm cry that the Republican party was sectional,
and that its success would dissolve the Union. Mr. Lincoln did not then
dream that he would ever have to deal practically with such a
contingency, but his mind was very clear as to the method of meeting it.
Speaking for the Republican party, he said:

"But the Union in any event will not be dissolved. We don't want to
dissolve it, and if you attempt it, we won't let you. With the purse and
sword, the army and navy and treasury, in our hands and at our command,
you could not do it. This government would be very weak, indeed, if a
majority, with a disciplined army and navy and a well-filled treasury,
could not preserve itself when attacked by an unarmed, undisciplined,
unorganized minority. All this talk about the dissolution of the Union
is humbug, nothing but folly. We do not want to dissolve the Union; you
shall not."

While the Republican party was much cast down by the election of
Buchanan in November, the Democrats found significant cause for
apprehension in the unexpected strength with which the Frémont ticket
had been supported in the free States. Especially was this true in
Illinois, where the adherents of Frémont and Fillmore had formed a
fusion, and thereby elected a Republican governor and State officers.
One of the strong elements of Mr. Lincoln's leadership was the cheerful
hope he was always able to inspire in his followers, and his abiding
faith in the correct political instincts of popular majorities. This
trait was happily exemplified in a speech he made at a Republican
banquet in Chicago about a month after the presidential election.
Recalling the pregnant fact that though Buchanan gained a majority of
the electoral vote, he was in a minority of about four hundred thousand
of the popular vote for President, Mr. Lincoln thus summed up the
chances of Republican success in the future:

"Our government rests in public opinion. Whoever can change public
opinion, can change the government, practically, just so much. Public
opinion on any subject always has a 'central idea,' from which all its
minor thoughts radiate. That 'central idea' in our political public
opinion at the beginning was, and until recently has continued to be,
'the equality of men.' And although it has always submitted patiently to
whatever of inequality there seemed to be as matter of actual necessity,
its constant working has been a steady progress towards the practical
equality of all men. The late presidential election was a struggle by
one party to discard that central idea and to substitute for it the
opposite idea that slavery is right in the abstract; the workings of
which as a central idea may be the perpetuity of human slavery and its
extension to all countries and colors.... All of us who did not vote for
Mr. Buchanan, taken together, are a majority of four hundred thousand.
But in the late contest we were divided between Frémont and Fillmore.
Can we not come together for the future? Let every one who really
believes, and is resolved, that free society is not and shall not be a
failure, and who can conscientiously declare that in the past contest he
has done only what he thought best--let every such one have charity to
believe that every other one can say as much. Thus let bygones be
bygones; let past differences as nothing be; and with steady eye on the
real issue, let us reinaugurate the good old 'central ideas' of the
republic. We can do it. The human heart is with us; God is with us. We
shall again be able, not to declare that 'all States as States are
equal,' nor yet that 'all citizens as citizens are equal,' but to renew
the broader, better declaration, including both these and much more,
that 'all men are created equal.'"




VIII

Buchanan Elected President--The Dred Scott Decision--Douglas's
Springfield Speech, 1857--Lincoln's Answering Speech--Criticism of Dred
Scott Decision--Kansas Civil War--Buchanan Appoints Walker--Walker's
Letter on Kansas--The Lecompton Constitution--Revolt of Douglas


The election of 1856 once more restored the Democratic party to full
political control in national affairs. James Buchanan was elected
President to succeed Pierce; the Senate continued, as before, to have a
decided Democratic majority; and a clear Democratic majority of
twenty-five was chosen to the House of Representatives to succeed the
heavy opposition majority of the previous Congress.

Though the new House did not organize till a year after it was elected,
the certainty of its coming action was sufficient not only to restore,
but greatly to accelerate the pro-slavery reaction begun by the repeal
of the Missouri Compromise. This impending drift of national policy now
received a powerful impetus by an act of the third coördinate branch,
the judicial department of the government.

Very unexpectedly to the public at large, the Supreme Court of the
United States, a few days after Buchanan's inauguration, announced its
judgment in what quickly became famous as the Dred Scott decision. Dred
Scott, a negro slave in Missouri, sued for his freedom on the ground
that his master had taken him to reside in the State of Illinois and
the Territory of Wisconsin, where slavery was prohibited by law. The
question had been twice decided by Missouri courts, once for and then
against Dred Scott's claim; and now the Supreme Court of the United
States, after hearing the case twice elaborately argued by eminent
counsel, finally decided that Dred Scott, being a negro, could not
become a citizen, and therefore was not entitled to bring suit. This
branch, under ordinary precedent, simply threw the case out of court;
but in addition, the decision, proceeding with what lawyers call _obiter
dictum_, went on to declare that under the Constitution of the United
States neither Congress nor a territorial legislature possessed power to
prohibit slavery in Federal Territories.

The whole country immediately flared up with the agitation of the
slavery question in this new form. The South defended the decision with
heat, the North protested against it with indignation, and the
controversy was greatly intensified by a phrase in the opinion of Chief
Justice Taney, that at the time of the Declaration of Independence
negroes were considered by general public opinion to be so far inferior
"that they had no rights which the white man was bound to respect."

This decision of the Supreme Court placed Senator Douglas in a curious
dilemma. While it served to indorse and fortify his course in repealing
the Missouri Compromise, it, on the other hand, totally negatived his
theory by which he had sought to make the repeal palatable, that the
people of a Territory, by the exercise of his great principle of popular
sovereignty, could decide the slavery question for themselves. But,
being a subtle sophist, he sought to maintain a show of consistency by
an ingenious evasion. In the month of June following the decision, he
made a speech at Springfield, Illinois, in which he tentatively
announced what in the next year became widely celebrated as his Freeport
doctrine, and was immediately denounced by his political confrères of
the South as serious party heterodoxy. First lauding the Supreme Court
as "the highest judicial tribunal on earth," and declaring that violent
resistance to its decrees must be put down by the strong arm of the
government, he went on thus to define a master's right to his slave in
Kansas:

"While the right continues in full force under the guarantees of the
Constitution, and cannot be divested or alienated by an act of Congress,
it necessarily remains a barren and a worthless right unless sustained,
protected, and enforced by appropriate police regulations and local
legislation prescribing adequate remedies for its violation. These
regulations and remedies must necessarily depend entirely upon the will
and wishes of the people of the Territory, as they can only be
prescribed by the local legislatures. Hence, the great principle of
popular sovereignty and self-government is sustained and firmly
established by the authority of this decision."

Both the legal and political aspects of the new question immediately
engaged the earnest attention of Mr. Lincoln; and his splendid power of
analysis set its ominous portent in a strong light. He made a speech in
reply to Douglas about two weeks after, subjecting the Dred Scott
decision to a searching and eloquent criticism. He said:

"That decision declares two propositions--first, that a negro cannot sue
in the United States courts; and secondly, that Congress cannot prohibit
slavery in the Territories. It was made by a divided court--dividing
differently on the different points. Judge Douglas does not discuss the
merits of the decision, and in that respect I shall follow his example,
believing I could no more improve on McLean and Curtis than he could on
Taney.... We think the Dred Scott decision was erroneous. We know the
court that made it has often overruled its own decisions, and we shall
do what we can to have it overrule this. We offer no resistance to
it.... If this important decision had been made by the unanimous
concurrence of the judges, and without any apparent partizan bias, and
in accordance with legal public expectation and with the steady practice
of the departments throughout our history and had been in no part based
on assumed historical facts which are not really true; or if, wanting in
some of these, it had been before the court more than once, and had
there been affirmed and reaffirmed through a course of years, it then
might be, perhaps would be, factious, nay, even revolutionary, not to
acquiesce in it as a precedent. But when, as is true, we find it wanting
in all these claims to the public confidence, it is not resistance, it
is not factious, it is not even disrespectful, to treat it as not having
yet quite established a settled doctrine for the country....

"The Chief Justice does not directly assert, but plainly assumes, as a
fact, that the public estimate of the black man is more favorable now
than it was in the days of the Revolution. This assumption is a mistake.
In some trifling particulars the condition of that race has been
ameliorated; but as a whole, in this country, the change between then
and now is decidedly the other way; and their ultimate destiny has never
appeared so hopeless as in the last three or four years. In two of the
five States--New Jersey and North Carolina--that then gave the free
negro the right of voting, the right has since been taken away; and in
the third--New York--it has been greatly abridged; while it has not
been extended, so far as I know, to a single additional State, though
the number of the States has more than doubled. In those days, as I
understand, masters could, at their own pleasure, emancipate their
slaves; but since then such legal restraints have been made upon
emancipation as to amount almost to prohibition. In those days,
legislatures held the unquestioned power to abolish slavery in their
respective States, but now it is becoming quite fashionable for State
constitutions to withhold that power from the legislatures. In those
days, by common consent, the spread of the black man's bondage to the
new countries was prohibited, but now Congress decides that it will not
continue the prohibition and the Supreme Court decides that it could not
if it would. In those days, our Declaration of Independence was held
sacred by all, and thought to include all; but now, to aid in making the
bondage of the negro universal and eternal, it is assailed and sneered
at and construed, and hawked at and torn, till, if its framers could
rise from their graves, they could not at all recognize it. All the
powers of earth seem rapidly combining against him. Mammon is after him,
ambition follows, philosophy follows, and the theology of the day is
fast joining the cry. They have him in his prison-house; they have
searched his person, and left no prying instrument with him. One after
another they have closed the heavy iron doors upon him; and now they
have him, as it were, bolted in with a lock of a hundred keys, which can
never be unlocked without the concurrence of every key--the keys in the
hands of a hundred different men, and they scattered to a hundred
different and distant places; and they stand musing as to what
invention, in all the dominions of mind and matter, can be produced to
make the impossibility of his escape more complete than it is."

There is not room to quote the many other equally forcible points in Mr.
Lincoln's speech. Our narrative must proceed to other significant events
in the great pro-slavery reaction. Thus far the Kansas experiment had
produced nothing but agitation, strife, and bloodshed. First the storm
in Congress over repeal; then a mad rush of emigration to occupy the
Territory. This was followed by the Border Ruffian invasions, in which
Missouri voters elected a bogus territorial legislature, and the bogus
legislature enacted a code of bogus laws. In turn, the more rapid
emigration from free States filled the Territory with a majority of
free-State voters, who quickly organized a compact free-State party,
which sent a free-State constitution, known as the Topeka Constitution,
to Congress, and applied for admission. This movement proved barren,
because the two houses of Congress were divided in sentiment. Meanwhile,
President Pierce recognized the bogus laws, and issued proclamations
declaring the free-State movement illegal and insurrectionary; and the
free-State party had in its turn baffled the enforcement of the bogus
laws, partly by concerted action of nonconformity and neglect, partly by
open defiance. The whole finally culminated in a chronic border war
between Missouri raiders on one hand, and free-State guerrillas on the
other; and it became necessary to send Federal troops to check the
disorder. These were instructed by Jefferson Davis, then Secretary of
War, that "rebellion must be crushed." The future Confederate President
little suspected the tremendous prophetic import of his order. The most
significant illustration of the underlying spirit of the struggle was
that President Pierce had successively appointed three Democratic
governors for the Territory, who, starting with pro-slavery bias, all
became free-State partizans, and were successively insulted and driven
from the Territory by the pro-slavery faction when in manly protest they
refused to carry out the behests of the Missouri conspiracy. After a
three years' struggle neither faction had been successful, neither party
was satisfied; and the administration of Pierce bequeathed to its
successor the same old question embittered by rancor and defeat.

President Buchanan began his administration with a boldly announced
pro-slavery policy. In his inaugural address he invoked the popular
acceptance of the Dred Scott decision, which he already knew was coming;
and a few months later declared in a public letter that slavery "exists
in Kansas under the Constitution of the United States.... How it ever
could have been seriously doubted is a mystery." He chose for the
governorship of Kansas, Robert J. Walker, a citizen of Mississippi of
national fame and of pronounced pro-slavery views, who accepted his
dangerous mission only upon condition that a new constitution, to be
formed for that State, must be honestly submitted to the real voters of
Kansas for adoption or rejection. President Buchanan and his advisers,
as well as Senator Douglas, accepted this condition repeatedly and
emphatically. But when the new governor went to the Territory, he soon
became convinced, and reported to his chief, that to make a slave State
of Kansas was a delusive hope. "Indeed," he wrote, "it is universally
admitted here that the only real question is this: whether Kansas shall
be a conservative, constitutional, Democratic, and ultimately free
State, or whether it shall be a Republican and abolition State."

As a compensation for the disappointment, however, he wrote later direct
to the President:

"But we must have a slave State out of the southwestern Indian
Territory, and then a calm will follow; Cuba be acquired with the
acquiescence of the North; and your administration, having in reality
settled the slavery question, be regarded in all time to come as a
re-signing and re-sealing of the Constitution.... I shall be pleased
soon to hear from you. Cuba! Cuba! (and Porto Rico, if possible) should
be the countersign of your administration, and it will close in a blaze
of glory."

And the governor was doubtless much gratified to receive the President's
unqualified indorsement in reply: "On the question of submitting the
constitution to the _bona fide_ resident settlers of Kansas, I am
willing to stand or fall."

The sequel to this heroic posturing of the chief magistrate is one of
the most humiliating chapters in American politics. Attendant
circumstances leave little doubt that a portion of Mr. Buchanan's
cabinet, in secret league and correspondence with the pro-slavery
Missouri-Kansas cabal, aided and abetted the framing and adoption of
what is known to history as the Lecompton Constitution, an organic
instrument of a radical pro-slavery type; that its pretended submission
to popular vote was under phraseology, and in combination with such
gigantic electoral frauds and dictatorial procedure, as to render the
whole transaction a mockery of popular government; still worse, that
President Buchanan himself, proving too weak in insight and will to
detect the intrigue or resist the influence of his malign counselors,
abandoned his solemn pledges to Governor Walker, adopted the Lecompton
Constitution as an administration measure, and recommended it to
Congress in a special message, announcing dogmatically: "Kansas is
therefore at this moment as much a slave State as Georgia or South
Carolina."

The radical pro-slavery attitude thus assumed by President Buchanan and
Southern leaders threw the Democratic party of the free States into
serious disarray, while upon Senator Douglas the blow fell with the
force of party treachery--almost of personal indignity. The Dred Scott
decision had rudely brushed aside his theory of popular sovereignty, and
now the Lecompton Constitution proceedings brutally trampled it down in
practice. The disaster overtook him, too, at a critical moment. His
senatorial term was about to expire; the next Illinois legislature would
elect his successor. The prospect was none too bright for him, for at
the late presidential election Illinois had chosen Republican State
officers. He was compelled either to break his pledges to the Democratic
voters of Illinois, or to lead a revolt against President Buchanan and
the Democratic leaders in Congress. Party disgrace at Washington, or
popular disgrace in Illinois, were the alternatives before him. To lose
his reëlection to the Senate would almost certainly end his public
career. When, therefore, Congress met in December, 1857, Douglas boldly
attacked and denounced the Lecompton Constitution, even before the
President had recommended it in his special message.

"Stand by the doctrine," he said, "that leaves the people perfectly free
to form and regulate their institutions for themselves, in their own
way, and your party will be united and irresistible in power.... If
Kansas wants a slave-State constitution, she has a right to it; if she
wants a free-State constitution, she has a right to it. It is none of my
business which way the slavery clause is decided. I care not whether it
is voted down or voted up. Do you suppose, after the pledges of my honor
that I would go for that principle and leave the people to vote as they
choose, that I would now degrade myself by voting one way if the
slavery clause be voted down, and another way if it be voted up? I care
not how that vote may stand.... Ignore Lecompton; ignore Topeka; treat
both those party movements as irregular and void; pass a fair bill--the
one that we framed ourselves when we were acting as a unit; have a fair
election--and you will have peace in the Democratic party, and peace
throughout the country, in ninety days. The people want a fair vote.
They will never be satisfied without it.... But if this constitution is
to be forced down our throats in violation of the fundamental principle
of free government, under a mode of submission that is a mockery and
insult, I will resist it to the last."

Walker, the fourth Democratic governor who had now been sacrificed to
the interests of the Kansas pro-slavery cabal, also wrote a sharp letter
of resignation denouncing the Lecompton fraud and policy; and such was
the indignation aroused in the free States, that although the Senate
passed the Lecompton Bill, twenty-two Northern Democrats joining their
vote to that of the Republicans, the measure was defeated in the House
of Representatives. The President and his Southern partizans bitterly
resented this defeat; and the schism between them, on the one hand, and
Douglas and his adherents, on the other, became permanent and
irreconcilable.




IX

The Senatorial Contest in Illinois--"House Divided against Itself"
Speech--The Lincoln-Douglas Debates--The Freeport Doctrine--Douglas
Deposed from Chairmanship of Committee on Territories--Benjamin on
Douglas--Lincoln's Popular Majority--Douglas Gains Legislature--Greeley,
Crittenden, _et al._--"The Fight Must Go On"--Douglas's Southern
Speeches--Senator Brown's Questions--Lincoln's Warning against Popular
Sovereignty--The War of Pamphlets--Lincoln's Ohio Speeches--The John
Brown Raid--Lincoln's Comment


The hostility of the Buchanan administration to Douglas for his part in
defeating the Lecompton Constitution, and the multiplying chances
against him, served only to stimulate his followers in Illinois to
greater efforts to secure his reëlection. Precisely the same elements
inspired the hope and increased the enthusiasm of the Republicans of the
State to accomplish his defeat. For a candidate to oppose the "Little
Giant," there could be no rival in the Republican ranks to Abraham
Lincoln. He had in 1854 yielded his priority of claim to Trumbull; he
alone had successfully encountered Douglas in debate. The political
events themselves seemed to have selected and pitted these two champions
against each other. Therefore, when the Illinois State convention on
June 16, 1858, passed by acclamation a separate resolution, "That
Abraham Lincoln is the first and only choice of the Republicans of
Illinois for the United States Senate as the successor of Stephen A.
Douglas," it only recorded the well-known judgment of the party. After
its routine work was finished, the convention adjourned to meet again in
the hall of the State House at Springfield at eight o'clock in the
evening. At that hour Mr. Lincoln appeared before the assembled
delegates and delivered a carefully studied speech, which has become
historic. After a few opening sentences, he uttered the following
significant prediction:

"'A house divided against itself cannot stand.' I believe this
government cannot endure permanently, half slave and half free. I do not
expect the Union to be dissolved--I do not expect the house to fall--but
I do expect it will cease 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, and place it where the public mind shall rest in the
belief that it is in course of ultimate extinction; or its advocates
will push it forward till it shall become alike lawful in all the
States, old as well as new, North as well as South."

Then followed his critical analysis of the legislative objects and
consequences of the Nebraska Bill, and the judicial effects and
doctrines of the Dred Scott decision, with their attendant and related
incidents. The first of these had opened all the national territory to
slavery. The second established the constitutional interpretation that
neither Congress nor a territorial legislature could exclude slavery
from any United States territory. The President had declared Kansas to
be already practically a slave State. Douglas had announced that he did
not care whether slavery was voted down or voted up. Adding to these
many other indications of current politics, Mr. Lincoln proceeded:

"Put this and that together, and we have another nice little niche,
which we may, ere long, see filled with another Supreme Court decision
declaring that the Constitution of the United States does not permit a
State to exclude slavery from its limits.... Such a decision is all that
slavery now lacks of being alike lawful in all the States.... We shall
lie down pleasantly dreaming that the people of Missouri are on the
verge of making their State free, and we shall awake to the reality,
instead, that the Supreme Court has made Illinois a slave State."

To avert this danger, Mr. Lincoln declared it was the duty of
Republicans to overthrow both Douglas and the Buchanan political
dynasty.

"Two years ago the Republicans of the nation mustered over thirteen
hundred thousand strong. We did this under the single impulse of
resistance to a common danger, with every external circumstance against
us. Of strange, discordant, and even hostile elements, we gathered from
the four winds, and formed and fought the battle through, under the
constant hot fire of a disciplined, proud, and pampered enemy. Did we
brave all then to falter now?--now, when that same enemy is wavering,
dissevered, and belligerent? The result is not doubtful. We shall not
fail--if we stand firm, we shall not fail. Wise counsels may accelerate
or mistakes delay it, but, sooner or later, the victory is sure to
come."

Lincoln's speech excited the greatest interest everywhere throughout the
free States. The grave peril he so clearly pointed out came home to the
people of the North almost with the force of a revelation; and
thereafter their eyes were fixed upon the Illinois senatorial campaign
with undivided attention. Another incident also drew to it the equal
notice and interest of the politicians of the slave States.

Within a month from the date of Lincoln's speech, Douglas returned from
Washington and began his campaign of active speech-making in Illinois.
The fame he had acquired as the champion of the Nebraska Bill, and, more
recently, the prominence into which his opposition to the Lecompton
fraud had lifted him in Congress, attracted immense crowds to his
meetings, and for a few days it seemed as if the mere contagion of
popular enthusiasm would submerge all intelligent political discussion.
To counteract this, Mr. Lincoln, at the advice of his leading friends,
sent him a letter challenging him to joint public debate. Douglas
accepted the challenge, but with evident hesitation; and it was arranged
that they should jointly address the same meetings at seven towns in the
State, on dates extending through August, September, and October. The
terms were, that, alternately, one should speak an hour in opening, the
other an hour and a half in reply, and the first again have half an hour
in closing. This placed the contestants upon an equal footing before
their audiences. Douglas's senatorial prestige afforded him no
advantage. Face to face with the partizans of both, gathered in immense
numbers and alert with critical and jealous watchfulness, there was no
evading the square, cold, rigid test of skill in argument and truth in
principle. The processions and banners, the music and fireworks, of both
parties, were stilled and forgotten while the audience listened with
high-strung nerves to the intellectual combat of three hours' duration.

It would be impossible to give the scope and spirit of these famous
debates in the space allotted to these pages, but one of the
turning-points in the oratorical contest needs particular mention.
Northern Illinois, peopled mostly from free States, and southern
Illinois, peopled mostly from slave States, were radically opposed in
sentiment on the slavery question; even the old Whigs of central
Illinois had to a large extent joined the Democratic party, because of
their ineradicable prejudice against what they stigmatized as
"abolitionism." To take advantage of this prejudice, Douglas, in his
opening speech in the first debate at Ottawa in northern Illinois,
propounded to Lincoln a series of questions designed to commit him to
strong antislavery doctrines. He wanted to know whether Mr. Lincoln
stood pledged to the repeal of the fugitive-slave law; against the
admission of any more slave States; to the abolition of slavery in the
District of Columbia; to the prohibition of the slave trade between
different States; to prohibit slavery in all the Territories; to oppose
the acquisition of any new territory unless slavery were first
prohibited therein.

In their second joint debate at Freeport, Lincoln answered that he was
pledged to none of these propositions, except the prohibition of slavery
in all Territories of the United States. In turn he propounded four
questions to Douglas, the second of which was:

"Can the people of a United States Territory in any lawful way, against
the wish of any citizen of the United States, exclude slavery from its
limits prior to the formation of a State constitution?"

Mr. Lincoln had long and carefully studied the import and effect of this
interrogatory, and nearly a month before, in a private letter,
accurately foreshadowed Douglas's course upon it:

"You shall have hard work," he wrote, "to get him directly to the point
whether a territorial legislature has or has not the power to exclude
slavery. But if you succeed in bringing him to it--though he will be
compelled to say it possesses no such power--he will instantly take
ground that slavery cannot actually exist in the Territories unless the
people desire it and so give it protection by territorial legislation.
If this offends the South, he will let it offend them, as at all events
he means to hold on to his chances in Illinois."

On the night before the Freeport debate the question had also been
considered in a hurried caucus of Lincoln's party friends. They all
advised against propounding it, saying, "If you do, you can never be
senator." "Gentlemen," replied Lincoln, "I am killing larger game; if
Douglas answers, he can never be President, and the battle of 1860 is
worth a hundred of this."

As Lincoln had predicted, Douglas had no resource but to repeat the
sophism he had hastily invented in his Springfield speech of the
previous year.

"It matters not," replied he, "what way the Supreme Court may hereafter
decide as to the abstract question whether slavery may or may not go
into a Territory under the Constitution, the people have the lawful
means to introduce it or exclude it, as they please, for the reason that
slavery cannot exist a day or an hour anywhere unless it is supported by
local police regulations. Those police regulations can only be
established by the local legislature, and if the people are opposed to
slavery they will elect representatives to that body who will by
unfriendly legislation effectually prevent the introduction of it into
their midst. If, on the contrary, they are for it, their legislation
will favor its extension. Hence, no matter what the decision of the
Supreme Court may be on that abstract question, still the right of the
people to make a slave Territory or a free Territory is perfect and
complete under the Nebraska Bill."

In the course of the next joint debate at Jonesboro', Mr. Lincoln easily
disposed of this sophism by showing: 1. That, practically, slavery had
worked its way into Territories without "police regulations" in almost
every instance; 2. That United States courts were established to protect
and enforce rights under the Constitution; 3. That members of a
territorial legislature could not violate their oath to support the
Constitution of the United States; and, 4. That in default of
legislative support, Congress would be bound to supply it for any right
under the Constitution.

The serious aspect of the matter, however, to Douglas was not the
criticism of the Republicans, but the view taken by Southern Democratic
leaders, of his "Freeport doctrine," or doctrine of "unfriendly
legislation." His opposition to the Lecompton Constitution in the
Senate, grievous stumbling-block to their schemes as it had proved,
might yet be passed over as a reckless breach of party discipline; but
this new announcement at Freeport was unpardonable doctrinal heresy, as
rank as the abolitionism of Giddings and Lovejoy.

The Freeport joint debate took place August 27, 1858. When Congress
convened on the first Monday in December of the same year, one of the
first acts of the Democratic senators was to put him under party ban by
removing him from the chairmanship of the Committee on Territories, a
position he had held for eleven years. In due time, also, the Southern
leaders broke up the Charleston convention rather than permit him to be
nominated for President; and, three weeks later, Senator Benjamin of
Louisiana frankly set forth, in a Senate speech, the light in which they
viewed his apostacy:

"We accuse him for this, to wit: that having bargained with us upon a
point upon which we were at issue, that it should be considered a
judicial point; that he would abide the decision; that he would act
under the decision, and consider it a doctrine of the party; that having
said that to us here in the Senate, he went home, and, under the stress
of a local election, his knees gave way; his whole person trembled. His
adversary stood upon principle and was beaten; and, lo! he is the
candidate of a mighty party for the presidency of the United States. The
senator from Illinois faltered. He got the prize for which he faltered;
but, lo! the grand prize of his ambition to-day slips from his grasp,
because of his faltering in his former contest, and his success in the
canvass for the Senate, purchased for an ignoble price, has cost him the
loss of the presidency of the United States."

In addition to the seven joint debates, both Lincoln and Douglas made
speeches at separate meetings of their own during almost every day of
the three months' campaign, and sometimes two or three speeches a day.
At the election which was held on November 2, 1858, a legislature was
chosen containing fifty-four Democrats and forty-six Republicans,
notwithstanding the fact that the Republicans had a plurality of
thirty-eight hundred and twenty-one on the popular vote. But the
apportionment was based on the census of 1850, and did not reflect
recent changes in political sentiment, which, if fairly represented,
would have given them an increased strength of from six to ten members
in the legislature. Another circumstance had great influence in causing
Lincoln's defeat. Douglas's opposition to the Lecompton Constitution in
Congress had won him great sympathy among a few Republican leaders in
the Eastern States. It was even whispered that Seward wished Douglas to
succeed as a strong rebuke to the Buchanan administration. The most
potent expression and influence of this feeling came, however, from
another quarter. Senator Crittenden of Kentucky, who, since Clay's death
in 1852, was the acknowledged leader of what remained of the Whig party,
wrote a letter during the campaign, openly advocating the reëlection of
Douglas, and this, doubtless, influenced the vote of all the Illinois
Whigs who had not yet formally joined the Republican party. Lincoln's
own analysis gives, perhaps, the clearest view of the unusual political
conditions:

"Douglas had three or four very distinguished men of the most extreme
antislavery views of any men in the Republican party expressing their
desire for his reëlection to the Senate last year. That would of itself
have seemed to be a little wonderful, but that wonder is heightened when
we see that Wise of Virginia, a man exactly opposed to them, a man who
believes in the divine right of slavery, was also expressing his desire
that Douglas should be reëlected; that another man that may be said to
be kindred to Wise, Mr. Breckinridge, the Vice-President, and of your
own State, was also agreeing with the antislavery men in the North that
Douglas ought to be reëlected. Still to heighten the wonder, a senator
from Kentucky, whom I have always loved with an affection as tender and
endearing as I have ever loved any man, who was opposed to the
antislavery men for reasons which seemed sufficient to him, and equally
opposed to Wise and Breckinridge, was writing letters to Illinois to
secure the reëlection of Douglas. Now that all these conflicting
elements should be brought, while at daggers' points with one another,
to support him, is a feat that is worthy for you to note and consider.
It is quite probable that each of these classes of men thought by the
reëlection of Douglas their peculiar views would gain something; it is
probable that the antislavery men thought their views would gain
something that Wise and Breckinridge thought so too, as regards their
opinions; that Mr. Crittenden thought that his views would gain
something, although he was opposed to both these other men. It is
probable that each and all of them thought they were using Douglas, and
it is yet an unsolved problem whether he was not using them all."

Lincoln, though beaten in his race for the Senate, was by no means
dismayed, nor did he lose his faith in the ultimate triumph of the cause
he had so ably championed. Writing to a friend, he said:

"You doubtless have seen ere this the result of the election here. Of
course I wished, but I did not much expect a better result.... I am glad
I made the late race. It gave me a hearing on the great and durable
question of the age, which I could have had in no other way; and though
I now sink out of view, and shall be forgotten, I believe I have made
some marks which will tell for the cause of civil liberty long after I
am gone."

And to another:

"Yours of the 13th was received some days ago. The fight must go on. The
cause of civil liberty must not be surrendered at the end of one or even
one hundred defeats. Douglas had the ingenuity to be supported in the
late contest, both as the best means to break down and to uphold the
slave interest. No ingenuity can keep these antagonistic elements in
harmony long. Another explosion will soon come."

In his "House divided against itself" speech, Lincoln had emphatically
cautioned Republicans not to be led on a false trail by the opposition
Douglas had made to the Lecompton Constitution; that his temporary
quarrel with the Buchanan administration could not be relied upon to
help overthrow that pro-slavery dynasty.

"How can he oppose the advances of slavery? He don't care anything about
it. His avowed mission is impressing the 'public heart' to care nothing
about it.... Whenever, if ever, he and we can come together on principle
so that our great cause may have assistance from his great ability, I
hope to have interposed no adventitious obstacle. But, clearly, he is
not now with us--he does not pretend to be--he does not promise ever to
be. Our cause, then, must be intrusted to, and conducted by, its own
undoubted friends--those whose hands are free, whose hearts are in the
work, who do care for the result."

Since the result of the Illinois senatorial campaign had assured the
reëlection of Douglas to the Senate, Lincoln's sage advice acquired a
double significance and value. Almost immediately after the close of the
campaign Douglas took a trip through the Southern States, and in
speeches made by him at Memphis, at New Orleans, and at Baltimore sought
to regain the confidence of Southern politicians by taking decidedly
advanced ground toward Southern views on the slavery question. On the
sugar plantations of Louisiana he said, it was not a question between
the white man and the negro, but between the negro and the crocodile. He
would say that between the negro and the crocodile, he took the side of
the negro; but between the negro and the white man, he would go for the
white man. The Almighty had drawn a line on this continent, on the one
side of which the soil must be cultivated by slave labor? on the other,
by white labor. That line did not run on 36° and 30' [the Missouri
Compromise line], for 36° and 30' runs over mountains and through
valleys. But this slave line, he said, meanders in the sugar-fields and
plantations of the South, and the people living in their different
localities and in the Territories must determine for themselves whether
their "middle belt" were best adapted to slavery or free labor. He
advocated the eventual annexation of Cuba and Central America. Still
going a step further, he laid down a far-reaching principle.

"It is a law of humanity," he said, "a law of civilization that whenever
a man or a race of men show themselves incapable of managing their own
affairs, they must consent to be governed by those who are capable of
performing the duty.... In accordance with this principle, I assert that
the negro race, under all circumstances, at all times, and in all
countries, has shown itself incapable of self-government."

This pro-slavery coquetting, however, availed him nothing, as he felt
himself obliged in the same speeches to defend his Freeport doctrine.
Having taken his seat in Congress, Senator Brown of Mississippi, toward
the close of the short session, catechized him sharply on this point.

"If the territorial legislature refuses to act," he inquired "will you
act? If it pass unfriendly acts, will you pass friendly? If it pass laws
hostile to slavery, will you annul them, and substitute laws favoring
slavery in their stead?"

There was no evading these direct questions, and Douglas answered
frankly:

"I tell you, gentlemen of the South, in all candor, I do not believe a
Democratic candidate can ever carry any one Democratic State of the
North on the platform that it is the duty of the Federal government to
force the people of a Territory to have slavery when they do not want
it."

An extended discussion between Northern and Southern Democratic
senators followed the colloquy, which showed that the Freeport doctrine
had opened up an irreparable schism between the Northern and Southern
wings of the Democratic party.

In all the speeches made by Douglas during his Southern tour, he
continually referred to Mr. Lincoln as the champion of abolitionism, and
to his doctrines as the platform of the abolition or Republican party.
The practical effect of this course was to extend and prolong the
Illinois senatorial campaign of 1858, to expand it to national breadth,
and gradually to merge it in the coming presidential campaign. The
effect of this was not only to keep before the public the position of
Lincoln as the Republican champion of Illinois, but also gradually to
lift him into general recognition as a national leader. Throughout the
year 1859 politicians and newspapers came to look upon Lincoln as the
one antagonist who could at all times be relied on to answer and refute
the Douglas arguments. His propositions were so forcible and direct, his
phraseology so apt and fresh, that they held the attention and excited
comment. A letter written by him in answer to an invitation to attend a
celebration of Jefferson's birthday in Boston, contains some notable
passages:

"Soberly, it is now no child's play to save the principles of Jefferson
from total overthrow in this nation. One would state with great
confidence that he could convince any sane child that the simpler
propositions of Euclid are true; but, nevertheless, he would fail,
utterly, with one who should deny the definitions and axioms. The
principles of Jefferson are the definitions and axioms of free society.
And yet they are denied and evaded with no small show of success. One
dashingly calls them 'glittering generalities.' Another bluntly calls
them 'self-evident lies.' And others insidiously argue that they apply
to 'superior races.' These expressions, differing in form, are identical
in object and effect--the supplanting the principles of free government,
and restoring those of classification, caste, and legitimacy. They would
delight a convocation of crowned heads plotting against the people. They
are the vanguard, the miners and sappers of returning despotism. We must
repulse them, or they will subjugate us. This is a world of
compensation; and he who would be no slave must consent to have no
slave. Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves,
and, under a just God, cannot long retain it."

Douglas's quarrel with the Buchanan administration had led many
Republicans to hope that they might be able to utilize his name and his
theory of popular sovereignty to aid them in their local campaigns.
Lincoln knew from his recent experience the peril of this delusive party
strategy, and was constant and earnest in his warnings against adopting
it. In a little speech after the Chicago municipal election on March 1,
1859, he said:

"If we, the Republicans of this State, had made Judge Douglas our
candidate for the Senate of the United States last year, and had elected
him, there would to-day be no Republican party in this Union.... Let the
Republican party of Illinois dally with Judge Douglas, let them fall in
behind him and make him their candidate, and they do not absorb him--he
absorbs them. They would come out at the end all Douglas men, all
claimed by him as having indorsed every one of his doctrines upon the
great subject with which the whole nation is engaged at this hour--that
the question of negro slavery is simply a question of dollars and
cents? that the Almighty has drawn a line across the continent, on one
side of which labor--the cultivation of the soil--must always be
performed by slaves. It would be claimed that we, like him, do not care
whether slavery is voted up or voted down. Had we made him our candidate
and given him a great majority, we should never have heard an end of
declarations by him that we had indorsed all these dogmas."

To a Kansas friend he wrote on May 14, 1859:

"You will probably adopt resolutions in the nature of a platform. I
think the only temptation will be to lower the Republican standard in
order to gather recruits In my judgment, such a step would be a serious
mistake, and open a gap through which more would pass out than pass in.
And this would be the same whether the letting down should be in
deference to Douglasism, or to the Southern opposition element; either
would surrender the object of the Republican organization--the
preventing of the spread and nationalization of slavery.... Let a union
be attempted on the basis of ignoring the slavery question, and
magnifying other questions which the people are just now not caring
about, and it will result in gaining no single electoral vote in the
South, and losing every one in the North."

To Schuyler Colfax (afterward Vice-President) he said in a letter dated
July 6, 1859:

"My main object in such conversation would be to hedge against divisions
in the Republican ranks generally and particularly for the contest of
1860. The point of danger is the temptation in different localities to
'platform' for something which will be popular just there, but which,
nevertheless, will be a firebrand elsewhere and especially in a national
convention. As instances: the movement against foreigners in
Massachusetts; in New Hampshire, to make obedience to the
fugitive-slave law punishable as a crime; in Ohio, to repeal the
fugitive-slave law; and squatter sovereignty, in Kansas. In these things
there is explosive matter enough to blow up half a dozen national
conventions, if it gets into them; and what gets very rife outside of
conventions is very likely to find its way into them."

And again, to another warm friend in Columbus, Ohio, he wrote in a
letter dated July 28, 1859:

"There is another thing our friends are doing which gives me some
uneasiness. It is their leaning toward 'popular sovereignty.' There are
three substantial objections to this. First, no party can command
respect which sustains this year what it opposed last. Secondly Douglas
(who is the most dangerous enemy of liberty, because the most insidious
one) would have little support in the North, and, by consequence, no
capital to trade on in the South, if it were not for his friends thus
magnifying him and his humbug. But lastly, and chiefly, Douglas's
popular sovereignty, accepted by the public mind as a just principle,
nationalizes slavery, and revives the African slave-trade inevitably.
Taking slaves into new Territories, and buying slaves in Africa, are
identical things, identical rights or identical wrongs, and the argument
which establishes one will establish the other. Try a thousand years for
a sound reason why Congress shall not hinder the people of Kansas from
having slaves, and when you have found it, it will be an equally good
one why Congress should not hinder the people of Georgia from importing
slaves from Africa."

An important election occurred in the State of Ohio in the autumn of
1859, and during the canvass Douglas made two speeches in which, as
usual, his pointed attacks were directed against Lincoln by name. Quite
naturally, the Ohio Republicans called Lincoln to answer him, and the
marked impression created by Lincoln's replies showed itself not alone
in their unprecedented circulation in print in newspapers and pamphlets,
but also in the decided success which the Ohio Republicans gained at the
polls. About the same time, also, Douglas printed a long political essay
in "Harper's Magazine," using as a text quotations from Lincoln's "House
divided against itself" speech, and Seward's Rochester speech defining
the "irrepressible conflict." Attorney-General Black of President
Buchanan's cabinet here entered the lists with an anonymously printed
pamphlet in pungent criticism of Douglas's "Harper" essay; which again
was followed by reply and rejoinder on both sides.

Into this field of overheated political controversy the news of the John
Brown raid at Harper's Ferry on Sunday, October 19, fell with startling
portent. The scattering and tragic fighting in the streets of the little
town on Monday; the dramatic capture of the fanatical leader on Tuesday
by a detachment of Federal marines under the command of Robert E. Lee,
the famous Confederate general of subsequent years; the undignified
haste of his trial and condemnation by the Virginia authorities; the
interviews of Governor Wise, Senator Mason, and Representative
Vallandigham with the prisoner; his sentence, and execution on the
gallows on December 2; and the hysterical laudations of his acts by a
few prominent and extreme abolitionists in the East, kept public
opinion, both North and South, in an inflamed and feverish state for
nearly six weeks.

Mr. Lincoln's habitual freedom from passion, and the steady and
common-sense judgment he applied to this exciting event, which threw
almost everybody into an extreme of feeling or utterance, are well
illustrated by the temperate criticism he made of it a few months later:

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




X

Lincoln's Kansas Speeches--The Cooper Institute Speech--New England
Speeches--The Democratic Schism--Senator Brown's Resolutions--Jefferson
Davis's Resolutions--The Charleston Convention--Majority and Minority
Reports--Cotton State Delegations Secede--Charleston Convention
Adjourns--Democratic Baltimore Convention Splits--Breckinridge
Nominated--Douglas Nominated--Bell Nominated by Union Constitutional
Convention--Chicago Convention--Lincoln's Letters to Pickett and
Judd--The Pivotal States--Lincoln Nominated


During the month of December, 1859, Mr. Lincoln was invited to the
Territory of Kansas, where he made speeches at a number of its new and
growing towns. In these speeches he laid special emphasis upon the
necessity of maintaining undiminished the vigor of the Republican
organization and the high plane of the Republican doctrine.

"We want, and must have," said he, "a national policy as to slavery
which deals with it as being a wrong. Whoever would prevent slavery
becoming national and perpetual yields all when he yields to a policy
which treats it either as being right, or as being a matter of
indifference." "To effect our main object we have to employ auxiliary
means. We must hold conventions, adopt platforms, select candidates, and
carry elections. At every step we must be true to the main purpose. If
we adopt a platform falling short of our principle, or elect a man
rejecting our principle, we not only take nothing affirmative by our
success, but we draw upon us the positive embarrassment of seeming
ourselves to have abandoned our principle."

A still more important service, however, in giving the Republican
presidential campaign of 1860 precise form and issue was rendered by him
during the first three months of the new year. The public mind had
become so preoccupied with the dominant subject of national politics,
that a committee of enthusiastic young Republicans of New York and
Brooklyn arranged a course of public lectures by prominent statesmen and
Mr. Lincoln was invited to deliver the third one of the series. The
meeting took place in the hall of the Cooper Institute in New York, on
the evening of February 27, 1860; and the audience was made up of ladies
and gentlemen comprising the leading representatives of the wealth,
culture, and influence of the great metropolis.

Mr. Lincoln's name and arguments had filled so large a space in Eastern
newspapers, both friendly and hostile, that the listeners before him
were intensely curious to see and hear this rising Western politician.
The West was even at that late day but imperfectly understood by the
East. The poets and editors, the bankers and merchants of New York
vaguely remembered having read in their books that it was the home of
Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett, the country of bowie-knives and pistols,
of steamboat explosions and mobs, of wild speculation and the
repudiation of State debts; and these half-forgotten impressions had
lately been vividly recalled by a several years' succession of newspaper
reports retailing the incidents of Border Ruffian violence and
free-State guerrilla reprisals during the civil war in Kansas. What was
to be the type, the character, the language of this speaker? How would
he impress the great editor Horace Greeley, who sat among the invited
guests? David Dudley Field, the great lawyer, who escorted him to the
platform; William Cullen Bryant, the great poet, who presided over the
meeting?

Judging from after effects, the audience quickly forgot these
questioning thoughts. They had but time to note Mr. Lincoln's impressive
stature, his strongly marked features, the clear ring of his rather
high-pitched voice, and the almost commanding earnestness of his manner.
His beginning foreshadowed a dry argument using as a text Douglas's
phrase that "our fathers, when they framed the government under which we
live, understood this question just as well and even better than we do
now," But the concise statements, the strong links of reasoning, and the
irresistible conclusions of the argument with which the speaker followed
his close historical analysis of how "our fathers" understood "this
question," held every listener as though each were individually merged
in the speaker's thought and demonstration.

"It is surely safe to assume," said he, with emphasis, "that the
thirty-nine framers of the original Constitution and the seventy-six
members of the Congress which framed the amendments thereto, taken
together, do certainly include those who may be fairly called 'our
fathers who framed the government under which we live.' And, so
assuming, I defy any man to show that any one of them ever, in his whole
life, declared that, in his understanding, any proper division of local
from Federal authority, or any part of the Constitution, forbade the
Federal government to control as to slavery in the Federal Territories."

With equal skill he next dissected the complaints, the demands, and the
threats to dissolve the Union made by the Southern States, pointed out
their emptiness, their fallacy, and their injustice, and defined the
exact point and center of the agitation.

"Holding, as they do," said he, "that slavery is morally right and
socially elevating, they cannot cease to demand a full national
recognition of it, as a legal right and a social blessing. Nor can we
justifiably withhold this on any ground, save our conviction that
slavery is wrong. If slavery is right, all words, acts, laws, and
constitutions against it are themselves wrong, and should be silenced
and swept away. If it is right, we cannot justly object to its
nationality--its universality! If it is wrong, they cannot justly insist
upon its extension--its enlargement. All they ask we could readily
grant, if we thought slavery right; all we ask they could as readily
grant, if they thought it wrong. Their thinking it right, and our
thinking it wrong, is the precise fact upon which depends the whole
controversy.... Wrong as we think slavery is we can yet afford to let it
alone where it is, because that much is due to the necessity arising
from its actual presence in the nation; but can we, while our votes will
prevent it, allow it to spread into the national Territories, and to
overrun us here in the free States? If our sense of duty forbids this,
then let us stand by our duty, fearlessly and effectively. Let us be
diverted by none of those sophistical contrivances wherewith we are so
industriously plied and belabored, contrivances such as groping for some
middle ground between the right and the wrong, vain as the search for a
man who should be neither a living man nor a dead man; such as a policy
of 'don't care,' on a question about which all true men do care; such as
Union appeals beseeching true Union men to yield to disunionists;
reversing the divine rule, and calling, not the sinners, but the
righteous to repentance; such as invocations to Washington, imploring
men to unsay what Washington said, and undo what Washington did. Neither
let us be slandered from our duty by false accusations against us, nor
frightened from it by menaces of destruction to the government nor of
dungeons to ourselves. Let us have faith that right makes might, and in
that faith let us, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it."

The close attention bestowed on its delivery, the hearty applause that
greeted its telling points, and the enthusiastic comments of the
Republican journals next morning showed that Lincoln's Cooper Institute
speech had taken New York by storm. It was printed in full in four of
the leading New York dailies, and at once went into large circulation in
carefully edited pamphlet editions. From New York, Lincoln made a tour
of speech-making through several of the New England States, and was
everywhere received with enthusiastic welcome and listened to with an
eagerness that bore a marked result in their spring elections. The
interest of the factory men who listened to these addresses was equaled,
perhaps excelled, by the gratified surprise of college professors when
they heard the style and method of a popular Western orator that would
bear the test of their professional criticism and compare with the best
examples in their standard text-books.

The attitude of the Democratic party in the coming presidential campaign
was now also rapidly taking shape. Great curiosity existed whether the
radical differences between its Northern and Southern wings could by any
possibility be removed or adjusted, whether the adherents of Douglas and
those of Buchanan could be brought to join in a common platform and in
the support of a single candidate. The Democratic leaders in the
Southern States had become more and more out-spoken in their pro-slavery
demands. They had advanced step by step from the repeal of the Missouri
Compromise in 1854, the attempt to capture Kansas by Missouri invasions
in 1855 and 1856, the support of the Dred Scott decision and the
Lecompton fraud in 1857, the repudiation of Douglas's Freeport heresy in
1858, to the demand for a congressional slave code for the Territories
and the recognition of the doctrine of property in slaves. These last
two points they had distinctly formulated in the first session of the
Thirty-sixth Congress. On January 18, 1860, Senator Brown of Mississippi
introduced into the Senate two resolutions, one asserting the
nationality of slavery, the other that, when necessary, Congress should
pass laws for its protection in the Territories. On February 2 Jefferson
Davis introduced another series of resolutions intended to serve as a
basis for the national Democratic platform, the central points of which
were that the right to take and hold slaves in the Territories could
neither be impaired nor annulled, and that it was the duty of Congress
to supply any deficiency of laws for its protection. Perhaps even more
significant than these formulated doctrines was the pro-slavery spirit
manifested in the congressional debates. Two months were wasted in a
parliamentary struggle to prevent the election of the Republican, John
Sherman, as Speaker of the House of Representatives, because the
Southern members charged that he had recommended an "abolition" book;
during which time the most sensational and violent threats of disunion
were made in both the House and the Senate, containing repeated
declarations that they would never submit to the inauguration of a
"Black Republican" President.

When the national Democratic convention met at Charleston, on April 23,
1860, there at once became evident the singular condition that the
delegates from the free States were united and enthusiastic in their
determination to secure the nomination of Douglas as the Democratic
candidate for President, while the delegates from the slave States were
equally united and determined upon forcing the acceptance of an extreme
pro-slavery platform. All expectations of a compromise, all hope of
coming to an understanding by juggling omissions or evasions in their
declaration of party principles were quickly dissipated. The platform
committee, after three days and nights of fruitless effort, presented
two antagonistic reports. The majority report declared that neither
Congress nor a territorial legislature could abolish or prohibit slavery
in the Territories, and that it was the duty of the Federal government
to protect it when necessary. To this doctrine the Northern members
could not consent; but they were willing to adopt the ambiguous
declaration that property rights in slaves were judicial in their
character, and that they would abide the decisions of the Supreme Court
on such questions.

The usual expedient of recommitting both reports brought no relief from
the deadlock. A second majority and a second minority report exhibited
the same irreconcilable divergence in slightly different language, and
the words of mutual defiance exchanged in debating the first report rose
to a parliamentary storm when the second came under discussion. On the
seventh day the convention came to a vote, and, the Northern delegates
being in the majority, the minority report was substituted for that of
the majority of the committee by one hundred and sixty-five to one
hundred and thirty-eight delegates--in other words, the Douglas
platform was declared adopted. Upon this the delegates of the cotton
States--Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, South Carolina, Florida, Texas,
and Arkansas--withdrew from the convention. It soon appeared, however,
that the Douglas delegates had achieved only a barren victory. Their
majority could indeed adopt a platform, but, under the acknowledged
two-thirds rule which governs Democratic national conventions, they had
not sufficient votes to nominate their candidate. During the fifty-seven
ballots taken, the Douglas men could muster only one hundred and
fifty-two and one half votes of the two hundred and two necessary to a
choice; and to prevent mere slow disintegration the convention adjourned
on the tenth day, under a resolution to reassemble in Baltimore on June
18.

Nothing was gained, however, by the delay. In the interim, Jefferson
Davis and nineteen other Southern leaders published an address
commending the withdrawal of the cotton States delegates, and in a
Senate debate Davis laid down the plain proposition, "We want nothing
more than a simple declaration that negro slaves are property, and we
want the recognition of the obligation of the Federal government to
protect that property like all other."

Upon the reassembling of the Charleston convention at Baltimore, it
underwent a second disruption on the fifth day; the Northern wing
nominated Stephen A. Douglas of Illinois, and the Southern wing John C.
Breckinridge of Kentucky as their respective candidates for President.
In the meanwhile, also, regular and irregular delegates from some
twenty-two States, representing fragments of the old Whig party, had
convened at Baltimore on May 9 and nominated John Bell of Tennessee as
their candidate for President, upon a platform ignoring the slavery
issue and declaring that they would "recognize no other political
principle than the Constitution of the country, the union of the States,
and the enforcement of the laws."

In the long contest between slavery extension and slavery restriction
which was now approaching its culmination the growing demands and
increasing bitterness of the pro-slavery party had served in an equal
degree to intensify the feelings and stimulate the efforts of the
Republican party; and, remembering the encouraging opposition strength
which the united vote of Frémont and Fillmore had shown in 1856, they
felt encouraged to hope for possible success in 1860, since the Fillmore
party had practically disappeared throughout the free States. When,
therefore, the Charleston convention was rent asunder and adjourned on
May 10 without making a nomination, the possibility of Republican
victory seemed to have risen to probability. Such a feeling inspired the
eager enthusiasm of the delegates to the Republican national convention
which met, according to appointment, at Chicago on May 16.

A large, temporary wooden building, christened "The Wigwam," had been
erected in which to hold its sessions, and it was estimated that ten
thousand persons were assembled in it to witness the proceedings.
William H. Seward of New York was recognized as the leading candidate,
but Chase of Ohio, Cameron of Pennsylvania, Bates of Missouri, and
several prominent Republicans from other States were known to have
active and zealous followers. The name of Abraham Lincoln had also often
been mentioned during his growing fame, and, fully a year before, an
ardent Republican editor of Illinois had requested permission to
announce him in his newspaper. Lincoln, however, discouraged such
action at that time, answering him:

"As to the other matter you kindly mention, I must in candor say I do
not think myself fit for the presidency. I certainly am flattered and
gratified that some partial friends think of me in that connection; but
I really think it best for our cause that no concerted effort, such as
you suggest, should be made."

He had given an equally positive answer to an eager Ohio friend in the
preceding July; but about Christmas 1859, an influential caucus of his
strongest Illinois adherents made a personal request that he would
permit them to use his name, and he gave his consent, not so much in any
hope of becoming the nominee for President, as in possibly reaching the
second place on the ticket; or at least of making such a showing of
strength before the convention as would aid him in his future senatorial
ambition at home, or perhaps carry him into the cabinet of the
Republican President, should one succeed. He had not been eager to enter
the lists, but once having agreed to do so, it was but natural that he
should manifest a becoming interest, subject, however, now as always, to
his inflexible rule of fair dealing and honorable faith to all his party
friends.

"I do not understand Trumbull and myself to be rivals," he wrote
December 9, 1859. "You know I am pledged not to enter a struggle with
him for the seat in the Senate now occupied by him; and yet I would
rather have a full term in the Senate than in the presidency."

And on February 9 he wrote to the same Illinois friend:

"I am not in a position where it would hurt much for me not to be
nominated on the national ticket; but I am where it would hurt some for
me not to get the Illinois delegates. What I expected when I wrote the
the letter to Messrs. Dole and others is now happening. Your discomfited
assailants are most bitter against me; and they will, for revenge upon
me, lay to the Bates egg in the South, and to the Seward egg in the
North, and go far toward squeezing me out in the middle with nothing.
Can you not help me a little in this matter in your end of the
vineyard?"

It turned out that the delegates whom the Illinois State convention sent
to the national convention at Chicago were men not only of exceptional
standing and ability, but filled with the warmest zeal for Mr. Lincoln's
success; and they were able at once to impress upon delegates from other
States his sterling personal worth and fitness, and his superior
availability. It needed but little political arithmetic to work out the
sum of existing political chances. It was almost self-evident that in
the coming November election victory or defeat would hang upon the
result in the four pivotal States of New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Indiana,
and Illinois. It was quite certain that no Republican candidate could
carry a single one of the fifteen slave States; and equally sure that
Breckinridge, on his extreme pro-slavery platform, could not carry a
single one of the eighteen free States. But there was a chance that one
or more of these four pivotal free States might cast its vote for
Douglas and popular sovereignty.

A candidate was needed, therefore, who could successfully cope with
Douglas and the Douglas theory; and this ability had been convincingly
demonstrated by Lincoln. As a mere personal choice, a majority of the
convention would have preferred Seward; but in the four pivotal States
there were many voters who believed Seward's antislavery views to be
too radical. They shrank apprehensively from the phrase in one of his
speeches that "there is a higher law than the Constitution." These
pivotal States all lay adjoining slave States, and their public opinion
was infected with something of the undefined dread of "abolitionism."
When the delegates of the pivotal States were interviewed, they frankly
confessed that they could not carry their States for Seward, and that
would mean certain defeat if he were the nominee for President. For
their voters Lincoln stood on more acceptable ground. His speeches had
been more conservative; his local influence in his own State of Illinois
was also a factor not to be idly thrown away.

Plain, practical reasoning of this character found ready acceptance
among the delegates to the convention. Their eagerness for the success
of the cause largely overbalanced their personal preferences for
favorite aspirants. When the convention met, the fresh, hearty
hopefulness of its members was a most inspiring reflection of the public
opinion in the States that sent them. They went at their work with an
earnestness which was an encouraging premonition of success, and they
felt a gratifying support in the presence of the ten thousand spectators
who looked on at their work. Few conventions have ever been pervaded by
such a depth of feeling, or exhibited such a reserve of latent
enthusiasm. The cheers that greeted the entrance of popular favorites,
and the short speeches on preliminary business, ran and rolled through
the great audience in successive moving waves of sound that were echoed
and reëchoed from side to side of the vast building. Not alone the
delegates on the central platform, but the multitude of spectators as
well, felt that they were playing a part in a great historical event.

The temporary, and afterward the permanent organization, was finished on
the first day, with somewhat less than usual of the wordy and
tantalizing small talk which these routine proceedings always call
forth. On the second day the platform committee submitted its work,
embodying the carefully considered and skilfully framed body of
doctrines upon which the Republican party, made up only four years
before from such previously heterogeneous and antagonistic political
elements was now able to find common and durable ground of agreement.
Around its central tenet, which denied "the authority of Congress, of a
territorial legislature, or of any individuals, to give legal existence
to slavery in any territory of the United States," were grouped vigorous
denunciations of the various steps and incidents of the pro-slavery
reaction, and its prospective demands; while its positive
recommendations embraced the immediate admission of Kansas, free
homesteads to actual settlers, river and harbor improvements of a
national character, a railroad to the Pacific Ocean, and the maintenance
of existing naturalization laws.

The platform was about to be adopted without objection when a flurry of
discussion arose over an amendment, proposed by Mr. Giddings of Ohio, to
incorporate in it that phrase of the Declaration of Independence which
declares the right of all men to life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness. Impatience was at once manifested lest any change should
produce endless delay and dispute. "I believe in the Ten Commandments,"
commented a member, "but I do not want them in a political platform";
and the proposition was voted down. Upon this the old antislavery
veteran felt himself agrieved, and, taking up his hat, marched out of
the convention. In the course of an hour's desultory discussion
however, a member, with stirring oratorical emphasis, asked whether the
convention was prepared to go upon record before the country as voting
down the words of the Declaration of Independence--whether the men of
1860, on the free prairies of the West, quailed before repeating the
words enunciated by the men of '76 at Philadelphia. In an impulse of
patriotic reaction, the amendment was incorporated into the platform,
and Mr. Giddings was brought back by his friends, his face beaming with
triumph; and the stormy acclaim of the audience manifested the deep
feeling which the incident evoked.

On the third day it was certain that balloting would begin, and crowds
hurried to the Wigwam in a fever of curiosity. Having grown restless at
the indispensable routine preliminaries, when Mr. Evarts nominated
William H. Seward of New York for President, they greeted his name with
a perfect storm of applause. Then Mr. Judd nominated Abraham Lincoln of
Illinois and in the tremendous cheering that broke from the throats of
his admirers and followers the former demonstration dwindled to
comparative feebleness. Again and again these contests of lungs and
enthusiasm were repeated as the choice of New York was seconded by
Michigan, and that of Illinois by Indiana.

When other names had been duly presented, the cheering at length
subsided, and the chairman announced that balloting would begin. Many
spectators had provided themselves with tally-lists, and when the first
roll-call was completed were able at once to perceive the drift of
popular preference. Cameron, Chase, Bates, McLean, Dayton, and Collamer
were indorsed by the substantial votes of their own States; but two
names stood out in marked superiority: Seward, who had received one
hundred and seventy-three and one half votes, and Lincoln, one hundred
and two.

The New York delegation was so thoroughly persuaded of the final success
of their candidate that they did not comprehend the significance of this
first ballot. Had they reflected that their delegation alone had
contributed seventy votes to Seward's total, they would have understood
that outside of the Empire State, upon this first showing, Lincoln held
their favorite almost an even race. As the second ballot progressed,
their anxiety visibly increased. They watched with eagerness as the
complimentary votes first cast for State favorites were transferred now
to one, now to the other of the recognized leaders in the contest, and
their hopes sank when the result of the second ballot was announced:
Seward, one hundred and eighty-four and one half, Lincoln, one hundred
and eighty-one; and a volume of applause, which was with difficulty
checked by the chairman, shook the Wigwam at this announcement.

Then followed a short interval of active caucusing in the various
delegations, while excited men went about rapidly interchanging
questions, solicitations, and messages between delegations from
different States. Neither candidate had yet received a majority of all
the votes cast, and the third ballot was begun amid a deep, almost
painful suspense, delegates and spectators alike recording each
announcement of votes on their tally-sheets with nervous fingers. But
the doubt was of short duration. The second ballot had unmistakably
pointed out the winning man. Hesitating delegations and fragments from
many States steadily swelled the Lincoln column. Long before the
secretaries made the official announcement, the totals had been figured
up: Lincoln, two hundred and thirty one and one half, Seward, one
hundred and eighty. Counting the scattering votes, four hundred and
sixty-five ballots had been cast, and two hundred and thirty-three were
necessary to a choice. Seward had lost four and one half, Lincoln had
gained fifty and one half, and only one and one half votes more were
needed to make a nomination.

The Wigwam suddenly became as still as a church, and everybody leaned
forward to see whose voice would break the spell. Before the lapse of a
minute, David K. Cartter sprang upon his chair and reported a change of
four Ohio votes from Chase to Lincoln. Then a teller shouted a name
toward the skylight, and the boom of cannon from the roof of the Wigwam
announced the nomination and started the cheering of the overjoyed
Illinoisans down the long Chicago streets; while in the Wigwam,
delegation after delegation changed its vote to the victor amid a tumult
of hurrahs. When quiet was somewhat restored, Mr. Evarts, speaking for
New York and for Seward, moved to make the nomination unanimous, and Mr.
Browning gracefully returned the thanks of Illinois for the honor the
convention had conferred upon the State. In the afternoon the convention
completed its work by nominating Hannibal Hamlin of Maine for
Vice-President; and as the delegates sped homeward in the night trains,
they witnessed, in the bonfires and cheering crowds at the stations,
that a memorable presidential campaign was already begun.




XI

Candidates and Platforms--The Political Chances--Decatur Lincoln
Resolution--John Hanks and the Lincoln Rails--The Rail-Splitter
Candidate--The Wide-Awakes--Douglas's Southern Tour--Jefferson Davis's
Address--Fusion--Lincoln at the State House--The Election Result


The nomination of Lincoln at Chicago completed the preparations of the
different parties of the country for the presidential contest of 1860;
and presented the unusual occurrence of an appeal to the voters of the
several States by four distinct political organizations. In the order of
popular strength which they afterward developed, they were:

1. The Republican party, whose platform declared in substance that
slavery was wrong, and that its further extension should be prohibited
by Congress. Its candidates were Abraham Lincoln of Illinois for
President and Hannibal Hamlin of Maine for Vice-president.

2. The Douglas wing of the Democratic party, which declared indifference
whether slavery were right or wrong, extended or prohibited, and
proposed to permit the people of a Territory to decide whether they
would prevent or establish it. Its candidates were Stephen A. Douglas of
Illinois for President, and Herschel V. Johnson of Georgia for
Vice-President.

3. The Buchanan wing of the Democratic party, which declared that
slavery was right and beneficial, and whose policy was to extend the
institution, and create new slave States. Its candidates were John C.
Breckinridge of Kentucky for President, and Joseph Lane of Oregon for
Vice-President.

4. The Constitutional Union party, which professed to ignore the
question of slavery, and declared it would recognize no political
principles other than "the Constitution of the country, the union of the
States, and the enforcement of the laws." Its candidates were John Bell
of Tennessee for President, and Edward Everett of Massachusetts for
Vice-President.

In the array of these opposing candidates and their platforms, it could
be easily calculated from the very beginning that neither Lincoln nor
Douglas had any chance to carry a slave State, nor Breckinridge nor Bell
to carry a free State; and that neither Douglas in the free States, nor
Bell in either section could obtain electoral votes enough to succeed.
Therefore, but two alternatives seemed probable. Either Lincoln would be
chosen by electoral votes, or, upon his failure to obtain a sufficient
number, the election would be thrown into the House of Representatives,
in which case the course of combination, chance, or intrigue could not
be foretold. The political situation and its possible results thus
involved a degree of uncertainty sufficient to hold out a contingent
hope to all the candidates and to inspire the followers of each to
active exertion. This hope and inspiration, added to the hot temper
which the long discussion of antagonistic principles had engendered,
served to infuse into the campaign enthusiasm, earnestness, and even
bitterness, according to local conditions in the different sections.

In campaign enthusiasm the Republican party easily took the lead. About
a week before his nomination, Mr. Lincoln had been present at the
Illinois State convention at Decatur in Coles County, not far from the
old Lincoln home, when, at a given signal, there marched into the
convention old John Hanks, one of his boyhood companions, and another
pioneer, who bore on their shoulders two long fence rails decorated with
a banner inscribed: "Two rails from a lot made by Abraham Lincoln and
John Hanks in the Sangamon Bottom in the year 1830." They were greeted
with a tremendous shout of applause from the whole convention succeeded
by a united call for Lincoln, who sat on the platform. The tumult would
not subside until he rose to speak, when he said:

"GENTLEMEN: I suppose you want to know something about those things
[pointing to old John and the rails]. Well, the truth is, John Hanks and
I did make rails in the Sagamon Bottom. I don't know whether we made
those rails or not; fact is, I don't think they are a credit to the
makers [laughing as he spoke]. But I do know this: I made rails then,
and I think I could make better ones than these now."

Still louder cheering followed this short, but effective reply. But the
convention was roused to its full warmth of enthusiasm when a resolution
was immediately and unanimously adopted declaring that "Abraham Lincoln
is the first choice of the Republican party of Illinois for the
Presidency," and directing the delegates to the Chicago convention "to
use all honorable means to secure his nomination, and to cast the vote
of the State as a unit for him."

It was this resolution which the Illinois delegation had so successfully
carried out at Chicago. And, besides they had carried with them the two
fence rails, and set them up in state at the Lincoln headquarters at
their hotel, where enthusiastic lady friends gaily trimmed them with
flowers and ribbons and lighted them up with tapers. These slight
preliminaries, duly embellished in the newspapers, gave the key to the
Republican campaign, which designated Lincoln as the Rail-splitter
Candidate, and, added to his common Illinois sobriquet of "Honest Old
Abe," furnished both country and city campaign orators a powerfully
sympathetic appeal to the rural and laboring element of the United
States.

When these homely but picturesque appellations were fortified by the
copious pamphlet and newspaper biographies in which people read the
story of his humble beginnings, and how he had risen, by dint of simple,
earnest work and native genius, through privation and difficulty, first
to fame and leadership in his State, and now to fame and leadership in
the nation, they grew quickly into symbols of a faith and trust destined
to play no small part in a political revolution of which the people at
large were not as yet even dreaming.

Another feature of the campaign also quickly developed itself. On the
preceding 5th of March, one of Mr. Lincoln's New England speeches had
been made at Hartford, Connecticut; and at its close he was escorted to
his hotel by a procession of the local Republican club, at the head of
which marched a few of its members bearing torches and wearing caps and
capes of glazed oilcloth, the primary purpose of which was to shield
their clothes from the dripping oil of their torches. Both the
simplicity and the efficiency of the uniform caught the popular eye, as
did also the name, "Wide-Awakes," applied to them by the "Hartford
Courant." The example found quick imitation in Hartford and adjoining
towns, and when Mr. Lincoln was made candidate for President, every
city, town, and nearly every village in the North, within a brief space,
had its organized Wide-Awake club, with their half-military uniform and
drill; and these clubs were often, later in the campaign, gathered into
imposing torch-light processions, miles in length, on occasions of
important party meetings and speech-making. It was the revived spirit of
the Harrison campaign of twenty years before; but now, shorn of its fun
and frolic, it was strengthened by the power of organization and the
tremendous impetus of earnest devotion to a high principle.

It was a noteworthy feature of the campaign that the letters of
acceptance of all the candidates, either in distinct words or
unmistakable implication, declared devotion to the Union, while at the
same time the adherents of each were charging disunion sentiments and
intentions upon the other three parties. Douglas himself made a tour of
speech-making through the Southern States, in which, while denouncing
the political views of both Lincoln and Breckinridge, he nevertheless
openly declared, in response to direct questions, that no grievance
could justify disunion, and that he was ready "to put the hemp around
the neck and hang any man who would raise the arm of resistance to the
constituted authorities of the country."

During the early part of the campaign the more extreme Southern
fire-eaters abated somewhat of their violent menaces of disunion.
Between the Charleston and the Baltimore Democratic conventions an
address published by Jefferson Davis and other prominent leaders had
explained that the seventeen Democratic States which had voted at
Charleston for the seceders' platform could, if united with Pennsylvania
alone, elect the Democratic nominees against all opposition. This hope
doubtless floated before their eyes like a will-o'-the-wisp until the
October elections dispelled all possibility of securing Pennsylvania for
Breckinridge. From that time forward there began a renewal of disunion
threats, which, by their constant increase throughout the South,
prepared the public mind of that section for the coming secession.

As the chances of Republican success gradually grew stronger, an
undercurrent of combination developed itself among those politicians of
the three opposing parties more devoted to patronage than principle, to
bring about the fusion of Lincoln's opponents on some agreed ratio of a
division of the spoils. Such a combination made considerable progress in
the three Northern States of New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey. It
appears to have been engineered mainly by the Douglas faction, though,
it must be said to his credit, against the open and earnest protest of
Douglas himself. But the thrifty plotters cared little for his
disapproval.

By the secret manipulations of conventions and committees a fusion
electoral ticket was formed in New York, made up of adherents of the
three different factions in the following proportion: Douglas, eighteen;
Bell, ten; Breckinridge, seven; and the whole opposition vote of the
State of New York was cast for this fusion ticket. The same tactics were
pursued in Pennsylvania, where, however, the agreement was not so openly
avowed. One third of the Pennsylvania fusion electoral candidates were
pledged to Douglas; the division of the remaining two thirds between
Bell and Breckinridge was not made public. The bulk of the Pennsylvania
opposition vote was cast for this fusion ticket, but a respectable
percentage refused to be bargained away, and voted directly for Douglas
or Bell. In New Jersey a definite agreement was reached by the managers,
and an electoral ticket formed, composed of two adherents of Bell, two
of Breckinridge, and three of Douglas; and in this State a practical
result was effected by the movement. A fraction of the Douglas voters
formed a straight electoral ticket, adopting the three Douglas
candidates on the fusion ticket, and by this action these three Douglas
electors received a majority vote in New Jersey, On the whole, however,
the fusion movement proved ineffectual to defeat Lincoln and, indeed, it
would not have done so even had the fusion electoral tickets deceived a
majority in all three of the above-named States.

The personal habits and surroundings of Mr. Lincoln were varied
somewhat, though but slightly, during the whole of this election summer.
Naturally, he withdrew at once from active work, leaving his law office
and his whole law business to his partner, William H. Herndon; while his
friends installed him in the governor's room in the State House at
Springfield, which was not otherwise needed during the absence of the
legislature. Here he spent the time during the usual business hours of
the day, attended only by his private secretary, Mr. Nicolay. Friends
and strangers alike were thus able to visit him freely and without
ceremony and they availed themselves largely of the opportunity. Few, if
any, went away without being favorably impressed by his hearty Western
greeting, and the frank sincerity of his manner and conversation, in
which, naturally, all subjects of controversy were courteously and
instinctively avoided by both the candidate and his visitors.

By none was this free, neighborly intercourse enjoyed more than by the
old-time settlers of Sangamon and the adjoining counties, who came to
revive the incidents and memories of pioneer days with one who could
give them such thorough and appreciative interest and sympathy. He
employed no literary bureau, wrote no public letters, made no set or
impromptu speeches, except that once or twice during great political
meetings at Springfield he uttered a few words of greeting and thanks to
passing street processions. All these devices of propagandism he left to
the leaders and committees of his adherents in their several States.
Even the strictly confidential letters in which he indicated his advice
on points in the progress of the campaign did not exceed a dozen in
number; and when politicians came to interview him at Springfield, he
received them in the privacy of his own home, and generally their
presence created little or no public notice. Cautious politician as he
was, he did not permit himself to indulge in any over-confidence, but
then, as always before, showed unusual skill in estimating political
chances. Thus he wrote about a week after the Chicago convention:

"So far as I can learn, the nominations start well everywhere; and, if
they get no backset, it would seem as if they are going through."

Again, on July 4:

"Long before this you have learned who was nominated at Chicago. We know
not what a day may bring forth, but to-day it looks as if the Chicago
ticket will be elected."

And on September 22, to a friend in Oregon:

"No one on this side of the mountains pretends that any ticket can be
elected by the people, unless it be ours. Hence, great efforts to
combine against us are being made, which, however, as yet have not had
much success Besides what we see in the newspapers, I have a good deal
of private correspondence; and, without giving details, I will only say
it all looks very favorable to our success."

His judgment was abundantly verified at the presidential election,
which occurred upon November 6, 1860. Lincoln electors were chosen in
every one of the free States except New Jersey, where, as has already
been stated, three Douglas electors received majorities because their
names were on both the fusion ticket and the straight Douglas ticket;
while the other four Republican electors in that State succeeded. Of the
slave States, eleven chose Breckinridge electors, three of them Bell
electors, and one of them--Missouri--Douglas electors. As provided by
law, the electors met in their several States on December 5, to
officially cast their votes, and on February 13, 1861, Congress in joint
session of the two Houses made the official count as follows: for
Lincoln, one hundred and eighty; for Breckinridge, seventy-two; for
Bell, thirty-nine; and for Douglas, twelve; giving Lincoln a clear
majority of fifty-seven in the whole electoral college. Thereupon
Breckinridge, who presided over the joint session, officially declared
that Abraham Lincoln was duly elected President of the United States for
four years, beginning March 4, 1861.




XII

Lincoln's Cabinet Program--Members from the South--Questions and
Answers--Correspondence with Stephens--Action of Congress--Peace
Convention--Preparation of the Inaugural--Lincoln's Farewell
Address--The Journey to Washington--Lincoln's Midnight Journey


During the long presidential campaign of 1860, between the Chicago
convention in the middle of May and the election at the beginning of
November, Mr. Lincoln, relieved from all other duties, had watched
political developments with very close attention not merely to discern
the progress of his own chances, but, doubtless, also, much more
seriously to deliberate upon the future in case he should be elected.
But it was only when, on the night of November 6, he sat in the
telegraph office at Springfield, from which all but himself and the
operators were excluded, and read the telegrams as they fell from the
wires, that little by little the accumulating Republican majorities
reported from all directions convinced him of the certainty of his
success; and with that conviction there fell upon him the overwhelming,
almost crushing weight of his coming duties and responsibilities. He
afterward related that in that supreme hour, grappling resolutely with
the mighty problem before him, he practically completed the first
essential act of his administration, the selection of his future
cabinet--the choice of the men who were to aid him.

From what afterward occurred, we may easily infer the general principle
which guided his choice. One of his strongest characteristics, as his
speeches abundantly show, was his belief in the power of public opinion,
and his respect for the popular will. That was to be found and to be
wielded by the leaders of public sentiment In the present instance there
were no truer representatives of that will than the men who had been
prominently supported by the delegates to the Chicago convention for the
presidential nominations. Of these he would take at least three, perhaps
four, to compose one half of his cabinet. In selecting Seward, Chase,
Bates, and Cameron, he could also satisfy two other points of the
representative principle, the claims of locality and the elements of
former party divisions now joined in the newly organized Republican
party. With Seward from New York, Cameron from Pennsylvania, Chase from
Ohio, and himself from Illinois, the four leading free States had each a
representative. With Bates from Missouri, the South could not complain
of being wholly excluded from the cabinet. New England was properly
represented by Vice-President Hamlin. When, after the inauguration,
Smith from Indiana Welles from Connecticut, and Blair from Maryland were
added to make up the seven cabinet members, the local distribution
between East and West, North and South, was in no wise disturbed. It
was, indeed, complained that in this arrangement there were four former
Democrats, and only three former Whigs; to which Lincoln laughingly
replied that he had been a Whig, and would be there to make the number
even.

It is not likely that this exact list was in Lincoln's mind on the night
of the November election, but only the principal names in it; and much
delay and some friction occurred before its completion. The post of
Secretary of State was offered to Seward on December 8.

"Rumors have got into the newspapers," wrote Lincoln, "to the effect
that the department named above would be tendered you as a compliment,
and with the expectation that you would decline it. I beg you to be
assured that I have said nothing to justify these rumors. On the
contrary, it has been my purpose, from the day of the nomination at
Chicago, to assign you, by your leave, this place in the
administration."

Seward asked a few days for reflection, and then cordially accepted.
Bates was tendered the Attorney-Generalship on December 15, while making
a personal visit to Springfield. Word had been meanwhile sent to Smith
that he would probably be included. The assignment of places to Chase
and Cameron worked less smoothly. Lincoln wrote Cameron a note on
January 3, saying he would nominate him for either Secretary of the
Treasury or Secretary of War, he had not yet decided which; and on the
same day, in an interview with Chase, whom he had invited to
Springfield, said to him:

"I have done with you what I would not perhaps have ventured to do with
any other man in the country--sent for you to ask whether you will
accept the appointment of Secretary of the Treasury, without, however,
being exactly prepared to offer it to you."

They discussed the situation very fully, but without reaching a definite
conclusion, agreeing to await the advice of friends. Meanwhile, the
rumor that Cameron was to go into the cabinet excited such hot
opposition that Lincoln felt obliged to recall his tender in a
confidential letter; and asked him to write a public letter declining
the place. Instead of doing this, Cameron fortified himself with
recommendations from prominent Pennsylvanians, and demonstrated that in
his own State he had at least three advocates to one opponent.

Pending the delay which this contest consumed, another cabinet
complication found its solution. It had been warmly urged by
conservatives that, in addition to Bates, another cabinet member should
be taken from one of the Southern States. The difficulty of doings this
had been clearly foreshadowed by Mr. Lincoln in a little editorial which
he wrote for the Springfield "Journal" on December 12:

"_First_. Is it known that any such gentleman of character would accept
a place in the cabinet?

"_Second_. If yea, on what terms does he surrender to Mr. Lincoln, or
Mr. Lincoln to him, on the political differences between them, or do
they enter upon the administration in open opposition to each other?"

It was very soon demonstrated that these differences were
insurmountable. Through Mr. Seward, who was attending his senatorial
duties at Washington, Mr. Lincoln tentatively offered a cabinet
appointment successively to Gilmer of North Carolina, Hunt of Louisiana
and Scott of Virginia, no one of whom had the courage to accept.

Toward the end of the recent canvass, and still more since the election,
Mr. Lincoln had received urgent letters to make some public declaration
to reassure and pacify the South, especially the cotton States, which
were manifesting a constantly growing spirit of rebellion. Most of such
letters remained unanswered, but in a number of strictly confidential
replies he explained the reasons for his refusal.

"I appreciate your motive," he wrote October 23, "when you suggest the
propriety of my writing for the public something disclaiming all
intention to interfere with slaves or slavery in the States: but, in my
judgment, it would do no good. I have already done this many, many
times; and it is in print, and open to all who will read. Those who will
not read or heed what I have already publicly said, would not read or
heed a repetition of it. 'If they hear not Moses and the prophets,
neither will they be persuaded though one rose from the dead.'"

To the editor of the "Louisville Journal" he wrote October 29:

"For the good men of the South--and I regard the majority of them as
such--I have no objection to repeat seventy and seven times. But I have
bad men to deal with, both North and South; men who are eager for
something new upon which to base new misrepresentations; men who would
like to frighten me, or at least to fix upon me the character of
timidity and cowardice."

Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia, who afterward became Confederate
Vice-President, made a strong speech against secession in that State on
November 14; and Mr. Lincoln wrote him a few lines asking for a revised
copy of it. In the brief correspondence which ensued, Mr. Lincoln again
wrote him under date of December 22:

"I fully appreciate the present peril the country is in, and the weight
of responsibility on me. Do the people of the South really entertain
fears that a Republican administration would, directly or indirectly,
interfere with the slaves, or with them about the slaves? If they do, I
wish to assure you, as once a friend, and still, I hope, not an enemy,
that there is no cause for such fears. The South would be in no more
danger in this respect than it was in the days of Washington. I
suppose, however, this does not meet the case. You think slavery is
right and ought to be extended, while we think it is wrong and ought to
be restricted. That, I suppose, is the rub. It certainly is the only
substantial difference between us."

So, also, replying a few days earlier in a long letter to Hon. John A.
Gilmer of North Carolina, to whom, as already stated, he offered a
cabinet appointment, he said:

"On the territorial question I am inflexible, as you see my position in
the book. On that there is a difference between you and us; and it is
the only substantial difference. You think slavery is right and ought to
be extended; we think it is wrong and ought to be restricted. For this
neither has any just occasion to be angry with the other. As to the
State laws, mentioned in your sixth question, I really know very little
of them. I never have read one. If any of them are in conflict with the
fugitive-slave clause, or any other part of the Constitution, I
certainly shall be glad of their repeal; but I could hardly be
justified, as a citizen of Illinois, or as President of the United
States, to recommend the repeal of a statute of Vermont or South
Carolina."

Through his intimate correspondence with Mr. Seward and personal friends
in Congress, Mr. Lincoln was kept somewhat informed of the hostile
temper of the Southern leaders, and that a tremendous pressure was being
brought upon that body by timid conservatives and the commercial
interests in the North to bring about some kind of compromise which
would stay the progress of disunion; and on this point he sent an
emphatic monition to Representative Washburne on December 13:

"Your long letter received. Prevent as far as possible any of our
friends from demoralizing themselves and their cause by entertaining
propositions for compromise of any sort on slavery extension. There is
no possible compromise upon it but what puts us under again, and all our
work to do over again. Whether it be a Missouri line or Eli Thayer's
popular sovereignty, it is all the same. Let either be done, and
immediately filibustering and extending slavery recommences. On that
point hold firm as a chain of steel."

Between the day when a President is elected by popular vote and that on
which he is officially inaugurated there exists an interim of four long
months, during which he has no more direct power in the affairs of
government than any private citizen. However anxiously Mr. Lincoln might
watch the development of public events at Washington and in the cotton
States; whatever appeals might come to him through interviews or
correspondence, no positive action of any kind was within his power,
beyond an occasional word of advice or suggestion. The position of the
Republican leaders in Congress was not much better. Until the actual
secession of States, and the departure of their representatives, they
were in a minority in the Senate; while the so-called South Americans
and Anti-Lecompton Democrats held the balance of power in the House. The
session was mainly consumed in excited, profitless discussion. Both the
Senate and House appointed compromise committees, which met and labored,
but could find no common ground of agreement. A peace convention met and
deliberated at Washington, with no practical result, except to waste the
powder for a salute of one hundred guns over a sham report to which
nobody paid the least attention.

Throughout this period Mr. Lincoln was by no means idle. Besides the
many difficulties he had to overcome in completing his cabinet, he
devoted himself to writing his inaugural address. Withdrawing himself
some hours each day from his ordinary receptions, he went to a quiet
room on the second floor of the store occupied by his brother-in-law, on
the south side of the public square in Springfield, where he could think
and write in undisturbed privacy. When, after abundant reflection and
revision, he had finished the document, he placed it in the hands of Mr.
William H. Bailhache, one of the editors of the "Illinois State
Journal," who locked himself and a single compositor into the
composing-room of the "Journal." Here, in Mr. Bailhache's presence, it
was set up, proof taken and read, and a dozen copies printed; after
which the types were again immediately distributed. The alert newspaper
correspondents in Springfield, who saw Mr. Lincoln every day as usual,
did not obtain the slightest hint of what was going on.

Having completed his arrangements, Mr. Lincoln started on his journey to
Washington on February 11, 1861, on a special train, accompanied by Mrs.
Lincoln and their three children, his two private secretaries, and a
suite of about a dozen personal friends. Mr. Seward had suggested that
in view of the feverish condition of public affairs, he should come a
week earlier; but Mr. Lincoln allowed himself only time enough
comfortably to fill the appointments he had made to visit the capitals
and principal cities of the States on his route, in accordance with
non-partizan invitations from their legislatures and mayors, which he
had accepted. Standing on the front platform of the car, as the
conductor was about to pull the bell-rope, Mr. Lincoln made the
following brief and pathetic address of farewell to his friends and
neighbors of Springfield--the last time his voice was ever to be heard
in the city which had been his home for so many years:

     "My friends: No one, not in my situation, can appreciate my feeling
     of sadness at this parting. To this place, and the kindness of
     these people, I owe everything. Here I have lived a quarter of a
     century, and have passed from a young to an old man. 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 me
     greater than that which rested upon Washington. Without the
     assistance of that Divine Being who ever attended him, I cannot
     succeed. With that assistance, I cannot fail. Trusting in Him who
     can go with me, and remain with you, and be everywhere for good,
     let us confidently hope that all will yet be well. To His care
     commending you, as I hope in your prayers you will commend me, I
     bid you an affectionate farewell."

It was the beginning of a memorable journey. On the whole route from
Springfield to Washington, at almost every station, even the smallest,
was gathered a crowd of people in hope to catch a glimpse of the face of
the President-elect, or, at least, to see the flying train. At the
larger stopping-places these gatherings were swelled to thousands, and
in the great cities into almost unmanageable assemblages. Everywhere
there were vociferous calls for Mr. Lincoln, and, if he showed himself,
for a speech. Whenever there was sufficient time, he would step to the
rear platform of the car and bow his acknowledgments as the train was
moving away, and sometimes utter a few words of thanks and greeting. At
the capitals of Indiana, Ohio, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania,
as also in the cities of Cincinnati, Cleveland, Buffalo, New York, and
Philadelphia, a halt was made for one or two days, and a program was
carried out of a formal visit and brief address to each house of the
legislature, street processions, large receptions in the evening, and
other similar ceremonies; and in each of them there was an
unprecedented outpouring of the people to take advantage of every
opportunity to see and to hear the future Chief Magistrate of the Union.

Party foes as well as party friends made up these expectant crowds. The
public suspense was at a degree of tension which rendered every eye and
ear eager to catch even the slightest indication of the thoughts or
intentions of the man who was to be the official guide of the nation in
a crisis the course and end of which even the wisest dared not predict.
In the twenty or thirty brief addresses delivered by Mr. Lincoln on this
journey, he observed the utmost caution of utterance and reticence of
declaration; yet the shades of meaning in his carefully chosen sentences
were enough to show how alive he was to the trials and dangers
confronting his administration, and to inspire hope and confidence in
his judgment. He repeated that he regarded the public demonstrations not
as belonging to himself, but to the high office with which the people
had clothed him; and that if he failed, they could four years later
substitute a better man in his place; and in his very first address, at
Indianapolis, he thus emphasized their reciprocal duties:

"If the union of these States and the liberties of this people shall be
lost, it is but little to any one man of fifty-two years of age, but a
great deal to the thirty millions of people who inhabit these United
States, and to their posterity in all coming time. It is your business
to rise up and preserve the Union and liberty for yourselves and not for
me.... I appeal to you again to constantly bear in mind that not with
politicians, not with Presidents, not with office-seekers, but with you,
is the question, Shall the Union and shall the liberties of this country
be preserved to the latest generations?"

Many salient and interesting quotations could be made from his other
addresses, but a comparatively few sentences will be sufficient to
enable the reader to infer what was likely to be his ultimate conclusion
and action. In his second speech at Indianapolis he asked the question:

"On what rightful principle may a State, being not more than
one-fiftieth part of the nation in soil and population, break up the
nation, and then coerce a proportionally larger subdivision of itself in
the most arbitrary way?"

At Steubenville:

"If the majority should not rule, who would be the judge? Where is such
a judge to be found? We should all be bound by the majority of the
American people--if not, then the minority must control. Would that be
right?"

At Trenton:

"I shall do all that may be in my power to promote a peaceful settlement
of all our difficulties. The man does not live who is more devoted to
peace than I am, none who would do more to preserve it, but it may be
necessary to put the foot down firmly."

At Harrisburg:

"While I am exceedingly gratified to see the manifestation upon your
streets of your military force here, and exceedingly gratified at your
promise to use that force upon a proper emergency--while I make these
acknowledgments, I desire to repeat, in order to preclude any possible
misconstruction, that I do most sincerely hope that we shall have no use
for them; that it will never become their duty to shed blood, and most
especially never to shed fraternal blood. I promise that so far as I may
have wisdom to direct, if so painful a result shall in any wise be
brought about, it shall be through no fault of mine."

While Mr. Lincoln was yet at Philadelphia, he was met by Mr. Frederick
W. Seward, son of Senator Seward, who brought him an important
communication from his father and General Scott at Washington. About the
beginning of the year serious apprehension had been felt lest a sudden
uprising of the secessionists in Virginia and Maryland might endeavor to
gain possession of the national capital. An investigation by a committee
of Congress found no active military preparation to exist for such a
purpose, but considerable traces of disaffection and local conspiracy in
Baltimore; and, to guard against such an outbreak, President Buchanan
had permitted his Secretary of War, Mr. Holt, to call General Scott to
Washington and charge him with the safety of the city, not only at that
moment, but also during the counting of the presidential returns in
February, and the coming inauguration of Mr. Lincoln. For this purpose
General Scott had concentrated at Washington a few companies from the
regular army, and also, in addition, had organized and armed about nine
hundred men of the militia of the District of Columbia.

In connection with these precautions, Colonel Stone, who commanded these
forces, had kept himself informed about the disaffection in Baltimore,
through the agency of the New York police department. The communication
brought by young Mr. Seward contained besides notes from his father and
General Scott, a short report from Colonel Stone, stating that there had
arisen within the past few days imminent danger of violence to and the
assassination of Mr. Lincoln in his passage through Baltimore, should
the time of that passage be known.

"All risk," he suggested, "might be easily avoided by a change in the
traveling arrangements which would bring Mr. Lincoln and a portion of
his party through Baltimore by a night train without previous notice."

The seriousness of this information was doubled by the fact that Mr.
Lincoln had, that same day, held an interview with a prominent Chicago
detective who had been for some weeks employed by the president of the
Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore railway to investigate the danger
to their property and trains from the Baltimore secessionists. The
investigations of this detective, a Mr. Pinkerton, had been carried on
without the knowledge of the New York detective, and he reported not
identical, but almost similar, conditions of insurrectionary feeling and
danger, and recommended the same precaution.

Mr. Lincoln very earnestly debated the situation with his intimate
personal friend, Hon. N.B. Judd of Chicago, perhaps the most active and
influential member of his suite, who advised him to proceed to
Washington that same evening on the eleven-o'clock train. "I cannot go
to-night," replied Mr. Lincoln; "I have promised to raise the flag over
Independence Hall to-morrow morning, and to visit the legislature at
Harrisburg. Beyond that I have no engagements."

The railroad schedule by which Mr. Lincoln had hitherto been traveling
included a direct trip from Harrisburg, through Baltimore, to Washington
on Saturday, February 23. When the Harrisburg ceremonies had been
concluded on the afternoon of the 22d, the danger and the proposed
change of program were for the first time fully laid before a
confidential meeting of the prominent members of Mr. Lincoln's suite.
Reasons were strongly urged both for and against the plan; but Mr.
Lincoln finally decided and explained that while he himself was not
afraid he would be assassinated, nevertheless, since the possibility of
danger had been made known from two entirely independent sources, and
officially communicated to him by his future prime minister and the
general of the American armies, he was no longer at liberty to disregard
it; that it was not the question of his private life, but the regular
and orderly transmission of the authority of the government of the
United States in the face of threatened revolution, which he had no
right to put in the slightest jeopardy. He would, therefore, carry out
the plan, the full details of which had been arranged with the railroad
officials.

Accordingly, that same evening, he, with a single companion, Colonel W.
H. Lamon, took a car from Harrisburg back to Philadelphia, at which
place, about midnight, they boarded the through train from New York to
Washington, and without recognition or any untoward incident passed
quietly through Baltimore, and reached the capital about daylight on the
morning of February 23, where they were met by Mr. Seward and
Representative Washburne of Illinois, and conducted to Willard's Hotel.

When Mr. Lincoln's departure from Harrisburg became known, a reckless
newspaper correspondent telegraphed to New York the ridiculous invention
that he traveled disguised in a Scotch cap and long military cloak.
There was not one word of truth in the absurd statement. Mr. Lincoln's
family and suite proceeded to Washington by the originally arranged
train and schedule, and witnessed great crowds in the streets of
Baltimore, but encountered neither turbulence nor incivility of any
kind. There was now, of course, no occasion for any, since the telegraph
had definitely announced that the President-elect was already in
Washington.




XIII

The Secession Movement--South Carolina Secession--Buchanan's
Neglect--Disloyal Cabinet Members---Washington Central Cabal--Anderson's
Transfer to Sumter--Star of the West--Montgomery Rebellion---Davis and
Stephens--Corner-stone Theory--Lincoln Inaugurated--His Inaugural
Address--Lincoln's Cabinet--The Question of Sumter--Seward's
Memorandum--Lincoln's Answer--Bombardment of Sumter--Anderson's
Capitulation


It is not the province of these chapters to relate in detail the course
of the secession movement in the cotton States in the interim which
elapsed between the election and inauguration of President Lincoln.
Still less can space be given to analyze and set forth the lamentable
failure of President Buchanan to employ the executive authority and
power of the government to prevent it, or even to hinder its
development, by any vigorous opposition or adequate protest. The
determination of South Carolina to secede was announced by the governor
of that State a month before the presidential election, and on the day
before the election he sent the legislature of the State a revolutionary
message to formally inaugurate it. From that time forward the whole
official machinery of the State not only led, but forced the movement
which culminated on December 20 in the ordinance of secession by the
South Carolina convention.

This official revolution in South Carolina was quickly imitated by
similar official revolutions ending in secession ordinances in the
States of Mississippi, on January 9, 1861; Florida, January 10; Alabama,
January 11; Georgia, January 19; Louisiana, January 26; and by a still
bolder usurpation in Texas, culminating on February 1. From the day of
the presidential election all these proceedings were known probably more
fully to President Buchanan than to the general public, because many of
the actors were his personal and party friends; while almost at their
very beginning he became aware that three members of his cabinet were
secretly or openly abetting and promoting them by their official
influence and power.

Instead of promptly dismissing these unfaithful servants, he retained
one of them a month, and the others twice that period, and permitted
them so far to influence his official conduct, that in his annual
message to Congress he announced the fallacious and paradoxical doctrine
that though a State had no right to secede, the Federal government had
no right to coerce her to remain in the Union.

Nor could he justify his non-action by the excuse that contumacious
speeches and illegal resolves of parliamentary bodies might be tolerated
under the American theory of free assemblage and free speech. Almost
from the beginning of the secession movement, it was accompanied from
time to time by overt acts both of treason and war; notably, by the
occupation and seizure by military order and force of the seceding
States, of twelve or fifteen harbor forts, one extensive navy-yard, half
a dozen arsenals, three mints, four important custom-houses, three
revenue cutters, and a variety of miscellaneous Federal property; for
all of which insults to the flag, and infractions of the sovereignty of
the United States, President Buchanan could recommend no more
efficacious remedy or redress than to ask the voters of the country to
reverse their decision given at the presidential election, and to
appoint a day of fasting and prayer on which to implore the Most High
"to remove from our hearts that false pride of opinion which would impel
us to persevere in wrong for the sake of consistency."

Nor must mention be omitted of the astounding phenomenon that,
encouraged by President Buchanan's doctrine of non-coercion and purpose
of non-action, a central cabal of Southern senators and representatives
issued from Washington, on December 14, their public proclamation of the
duty of secession; their executive committee using one of the rooms of
the Capitol building itself as the headquarters of the conspiracy and
rebellion they were appointed to lead and direct.

During the month of December, while the active treason of cotton-State
officials and the fatal neglect of the Federal executive were in their
most damaging and demoralizing stages, an officer of the United States
army had the high courage and distinguished honor to give the
ever-growing revolution its first effective check. Major Robert
Anderson, though a Kentuckian by birth and allied by marriage to a
Georgia family, was, late in November, placed in command of the Federal
forts in Charleston harbor; and having repeatedly reported that his
little garrison of sixty men was insufficient for the defense of Fort
Moultrie, and vainly asked for reinforcements which were not sent him,
he suddenly and secretly, on the night after Christmas, transferred his
command from the insecure position of Moultrie to the strong and
unapproachable walls of Fort Sumter, midway in the mouth of Charleston
harbor, where he could not be assailed by the raw Charleston militia
companies that had for weeks been threatening him with a storming
assault. In this stronghold, surrounded on all sides by water, he
loyally held possession for the government and sovereignty of the United
States.

The surprised and baffled rage of the South Carolina rebels created a
crisis at Washington that resulted in the expulsion of the President's
treacherous counselors and the reconstruction of Mr. Buchanan's cabinet
to unity and loyalty. The new cabinet, though unable to obtain President
Buchanan's consent to aggressive measures to reëstablish the Federal
authority, was, nevertheless, able to prevent further concessions to the
insurrection, and to effect a number of important defensive precautions,
among which was the already mentioned concentration of a small military
force to protect the national capital.

Meanwhile, the governor of South Carolina had begun the erection of
batteries to isolate and besiege Fort Sumter; and the first of these, on
a sand-spit of Morris Island commanding the main ship-channel, by a few
shots turned back, on January 9, the merchant steamer _Star of the
West_, in which General Scott had attempted to send a reinforcement of
two hundred recruits to Major Anderson. Battery building was continued
with uninterrupted energy until a triangle of siege works was
established on the projecting points of neighboring islands, mounting a
total of thirty guns and seventeen mortars, manned and supported by a
volunteer force of from four to six thousand men.

Military preparation, though not on so extensive or definite a scale,
was also carried on in the other revolted States; and while Mr. Lincoln
was making his memorable journey from Springfield to Washington,
telegrams were printed in the newspapers, from day to day, showing that
their delegates had met at Montgomery, Alabama, formed a provisional
congress, and adopted a constitution and government under the title of
The Confederate States of America, of which they elected Jefferson Davis
of Mississippi President, and Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia
Vice-President.

It needs to be constantly borne in mind that the beginning of this vast
movement was not a spontaneous revolution, but a chronic conspiracy.
"The secession of South Carolina," truly said one of the chief actors,
"is not an event of a day. It is not anything produced by Mr. Lincoln's
election, or by the non-execution of the fugitive-slave law. It is a
matter which has been gathering head for thirty years." The central
motive and dominating object of the revolution was frankly avowed by
Vice-President Stephens in a speech he made at Savannah a few weeks
after his inauguration:

"The prevailing ideas entertained by him [Jefferson] and most of the
leading statesmen at the time of the formation of the old Constitution,
were that the enslavement of the African was in violation of the laws of
nature; that it was wrong in _principle_, socially, morally, and
politically.... Our new government is founded upon exactly the opposite
idea; its foundations are laid, its corner-stone rests upon the great
truth, that the negro is not equal to the white man; that
slavery--subordination to the superior race--is his natural and normal
condition. This, our new government, is the first, in the history of the
world, based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth."

In the week which elapsed between Mr. Lincoln's arrival in Washington
and the day of inauguration, he exchanged the customary visits of
ceremony with President Buchanan, his cabinet, the Supreme Court, the
two Houses of Congress, and other dignitaries. In his rooms at Willard's
Hotel he also held consultations with leading Republicans about the
final composition of his cabinet and pressing questions of public
policy. Careful preparations had been made for the inauguration, and
under the personal eye of General Scott the military force in the city
was ready instantly to suppress any attempt to disturb the peace or
quiet of the day.

On March 4 the outgoing and incoming Presidents rode side by side in a
carriage from the Executive Mansion to the Capitol and back, escorted by
an imposing military and civic procession; and an immense throng of
spectators heard the new Executive read his inaugural address from the
east portico of the Capitol. He stated frankly that a disruption of the
Federal Union was being formidably attempted, and discussed
dispassionately the theory and illegality of secession. He held that the
Union was perpetual; that resolves and ordinances of disunion are
legally void; and announced that to the extent of his ability he would
faithfully execute the laws of the Union in all the States. The power
confided to him would be used to hold, occupy, and possess the property
and places belonging to the government, and to collect the duties and
imposts. But beyond what might be necessary for these objects there
would be no invasion, no using of force against or among the people
anywhere. Where hostility to the United States in any interior locality
should be so great and universal as to prevent competent resident
citizens from holding the Federal offices, there would be no attempt to
force obnoxious strangers among them for that object. The mails, unless
repelled, would continue to be furnished in all parts of the Union; and
this course would be followed until current events and experience should
show a change to be necessary. To the South he made an earnest plea
against the folly of disunion, and in favor of maintaining peace and
fraternal good will; declaring that their property, peace, and personal
security were in no danger from a Republican administration.

"One section of our country believes slavery is right and ought to be
extended," he said, "while the other believes it is wrong and ought not
to be extended; that is the only substantial dispute.... Physically
speaking, we cannot separate. We cannot remove our respective sections
from each other, nor build an impassable wall between them. A husband
and wife may be divorced, and go out of the presence and beyond the
reach of each other; but the different parts of our country cannot do
this. They cannot but remain face to face, and intercourse, either
amicable or hostile, must continue between them. Is it possible, then,
to make that intercourse more advantageous or more satisfactory after
separation than before? Can aliens make treaties easier than friends can
make laws? Can treaties be more faithfully enforced between aliens, than
laws can among friends? Suppose you go to war, you cannot fight always;
and when, after much loss on both sides and no gain on either, you cease
fighting, the identical old questions as to terms of intercourse are
again upon you.... In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow-countrymen, and
not in mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. The government will
not assail you. You can have no conflict without being yourselves the
aggressors.... I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We
must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break
our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from
every battle-field and patriot grave to every living heart and
hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the
Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels
of our nature."

But the peaceful policy here outlined was already more difficult to
follow than Mr. Lincoln was aware. On the morning after inauguration the
Secretary of War brought to his notice freshly received letters from
Major Anderson, commanding Fort Sumter in Charleston harbor, announcing
that in the course of a few weeks the provisions of the garrison would
be exhausted, and therefore an evacuation or surrender would become
necessary, unless the fort were relieved by supplies or reinforcements;
and this information was accompanied by the written opinions of the
officers that to relieve the fort would require a well-appointed army of
twenty thousand men.

The new President had appointed as his cabinet William H. Seward,
Secretary of State; Salmon P. Chase, Secretary of the Treasury; Simon
Cameron, Secretary of War; Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy; Caleb
B. Smith, Secretary of the Interior; Montgomery Blair,
Postmaster-General; and Edward Bates, Attorney-General. The President
and his official advisers at once called into counsel the highest
military and naval officers of the Union to consider the new and
pressing emergency revealed by the unexpected news from Sumter. The
professional experts were divided in opinion. Relief by a force of
twenty thousand men was clearly out of the question. No such Union army
existed, nor could one be created within the limit of time. The officers
of the navy thought that men and supplies might be thrown into the fort
by swift-going vessels, while on the other hand the army officers
believed that such an expedition would surely be destroyed by the
formidable batteries which the insurgents had erected to close the
harbor. In view of all the conditions, Lieutenant-General Scott,
general-in-chief of the army, recommended the evacuation of the fort as
a military necessity.

President Lincoln thereupon asked the several members of his cabinet the
written question: "Assuming it to be possible to now provision Fort
Sumter, under all the circumstances is it wise to attempt it?" Only two
members replied in the affirmative, while the other five argued against
the attempt, holding that the country would recognize that the
evacuation of the fort was not an indication of policy, but a necessity
created by the neglect of the old administration. Under this advice, the
President withheld his decision until he could gather further
information.

Meanwhile, three commissioners had arrived from the provisional
government at Montgomery, Alabama, under instructions to endeavor to
negotiate a _de facto_ and _de jure_ recognition of the independence of
the Confederate States. They were promptly informed by Mr. Seward that
he could not receive them; that he did not see in the Confederate States
a rightful and accomplished revolution and an independent nation; and
that he was not at liberty to recognize the commissioners as diplomatic
agents, or to hold correspondence with them. Failing in this direct
application, they made further efforts through Mr. Justice Campbell of
the Supreme Court, as a friendly intermediary, who came to Seward in the
guise of a loyal official, though his correspondence with Jefferson
Davis soon revealed a treasonable intent; and, replying to Campbell's
earnest entreaties that peace should be maintained, Seward informed him
confidentially that the military status at Charleston would not be
changed without notice to the governor of South Carolina. On March 29 a
cabinet meeting for the second time discussed the question of Sumter.
Four of the seven members now voted in favor of an attempt to supply the
fort with provisions, and the President signed a memorandum order to
prepare certain ships for such an expedition, under the command of
Captain G.V. Fox.

So far, Mr. Lincoln's new duties as President of the United States had
not in any wise put him at a disadvantage with his constitutional
advisers. Upon the old question of slavery he was as well informed and
had clearer convictions and purposes than either Seward or Chase. And
upon the newer question of secession, and the immediate decision about
Fort Sumter which it involved, the members of his cabinet were, like
himself, compelled to rely on the professional advice of experienced
army and navy officers. Since these differed radically in their
opinions, the President's own powers of perception and logic were as
capable of forming a correct decision as men who had been governors and
senators. He had reached at least a partial decision in the memorandum
he gave Fox to prepare ships for the Sumter expedition.

It must therefore have been a great surprise to the President when, on
April 1, Secretary of State Seward handed him a memorandum setting forth
a number of most extraordinary propositions. For a full enumeration of
the items the reader must carefully study the entire document, which is
printed below in a foot-note;[4] but the principal points for which it
had evidently been written and presented can be given in a few
sentences.

 [Footnote 4: SOME THOUGHTS FOR THE PRESIDENT'S CONSIDERATION. APRIL
 1, 1861.

 First. We are at the end of a month's administration, and yet
 without a policy, either domestic or foreign.

 Second. This, however, is not culpable, and it has even been
 unavoidable. The presence of the Senate, with the need to meet
 applications for patronage, have prevented attention to other and
 more grave matters.

 Third. But further delay to adopt and prosecute our policies for
 both domestic and foreign affairs would not only bring scandal on
 the administration, but danger upon the country.

 Fourth. To do this we must dismiss the applicants for office. But
 how? I suggest that we make the local appointments forthwith,
 leaving foreign or general ones for ulterior and occasional action.

 Fifth. The policy at home. I am aware that my views are singular
 and perhaps not sufficiently explained My system is built upon this
 idea as a ruling one, namely, that we must

 CHANGE THE QUESTION BEFORE THE PUBLIC FROM ONE UPON SLAVERY, OR
 ABOUT SLAVERY, for a question upon UNION OR DISUNION.

 In other words, from what would be regarded as a party question, to
 one of _Patriotism_ or _Union_.

 The occupation or evacuation of Fort Sumter, although not in fact a
 slavery or a party question, is so regarded. Witness the temper
 manifested by the Republicans in the free States, and even by the
 Union men in the South.

 I would therefore terminate it as a safe means for changing the
 issue. I deem it fortunate that the last administration created the
 necessity.

 For the rest, I would simultaneously defend and reinforce all the
 ports in the Gulf, and have the navy recalled from foreign stations
 to be prepared for a blockade. Put the island of Key West under
 martial law.

 This will raise distinctly the question of _Union_ or _Disunion_. I
 would maintain every fort and possession in the South.


 FOR FOREIGN NATIONS.

 I would demand explanations from Spain and France, categorically,
 at once.

 I would seek explanations from Great Britain and Russia, and send
 agents into Canada, Mexico, and Central America, to rouse a
 vigorous continental spirit of independence on this continent
 against European intervention.

 And, if satisfactory explanations are not received from Spain and
 France,

 Would convene Congress and declare war against them.

 But whatever policy we adopt, there must be an energetic
 prosecution of it.

 For this purpose it must be somebody's business to pursue and
 direct it incessantly.

 Either the President must do it himself, and be all the while
 active in it, or

 Devolve it on some member of his cabinet. Once adopted, debates on
 it must end, and all agree and abide.

 It is not in my especial province.

 But I neither seek to evade nor assume responsibility.]

A month has elapsed, and the administration has neither a domestic nor a
foreign policy. The administration must at once adopt and carry out a
novel, radical, and aggressive policy. It must cease saying a word about
slavery, and raise a great outcry about Union. It must declare war
against France and Spain, and combine and organize all the governments
of North and South America in a crusade to enforce the Monroe Doctrine.
This policy once adopted, it must be the business of some one
incessantly to pursue it. "It is not in my especial province," wrote Mr.
Seward; "but I neither seek to evade nor assume responsibility." This
phrase, which is a key to the whole memorandum, enables the reader
easily to translate its meaning into something like the following:

After a month's trial, you, Mr. Lincoln, are a failure as President. The
country is in desperate straits, and must use a desperate remedy. That
remedy is to submerge the South Carolina insurrection in a continental
war. Some new man must take the executive helm, and wield the undivided
presidential authority. I should have been nominated at Chicago, and
elected in November, but am willing to take your place and perform your
duties.

Why William H. Seward, who is fairly entitled to rank as a great
statesman, should have written this memorandum and presented it to Mr.
Lincoln, has never been explained; nor is it capable of explanation. Its
suggestions were so visionary, its reasoning so fallacious, its
assumptions so unwarranted, its conclusions so malapropos, that it falls
below critical examination. Had Mr. Lincoln been an envious or a
resentful man, he could not have wished for a better occasion to put a
rival under his feet.

The President doubtless considered the incident one of phenomenal
strangeness, but it did not in the least disturb his unselfish judgment
or mental equipoise. There was in his answer no trace of excitement or
passion. He pointed out in a few sentences of simple, quiet explanation
that what the administration had done was exactly a foreign and domestic
policy which the Secretary of State himself had concurred in and helped
to frame. Only, that Mr. Seward proposed to go further and give up
Sumter. Upon the central suggestion that some one mind must direct, Mr.
Lincoln wrote with simple dignity:

"If this must be done, I must do it. When a general line of policy is
adopted, I apprehend there is no danger of its being changed without
good reason, or continuing to be a subject of unnecessary debate; still,
upon points arising in its progress I wish, and suppose I am entitled to
have, the advice of all the cabinet."

Mr. Lincoln's unselfish magnanimity is the central marvel of the whole
affair. His reply ended the argument. Mr. Seward doubtless saw at once
how completely he had put himself in the President's power. Apparently,
neither of the men ever again alluded to the incident. No other persons
except Mr. Seward's son and the President's private secretary ever saw
the correspondence, or knew of the occurrence. The President put the
papers away in an envelop, and no word of the affair came to the public
until a quarter of a century later, when the details were published in
Mr. Lincoln's biography. In one mind, at least, there was no further
doubt that the cabinet had a master, for only some weeks later Mr.
Seward is known to have written: "There is but one vote in the cabinet,
and that is cast by the President." This mastery Mr. Lincoln retained
with a firm dignity throughout his administration. When, near the close
of the war, he sent Mr. Seward to meet the rebel commissioners at the
Hampton Roads conference, he finished his short letter of instructions
with the imperative sentence: "You will not assume to definitely
consummate anything."

From this strange episode our narrative must return to the question of
Fort Sumter. On April 4, official notice was sent to Major Anderson of
the coming relief, with the instruction to hold out till the eleventh or
twelfth if possible; but authorizing him to capitulate whenever it might
become necessary to save himself and command. Two days later the
President sent a special messenger with written notice to the governor
of South Carolina that an attempt would be made to supply Fort Sumter
with provisions only; and that if such attempt were not resisted, no
further effort would be made to throw in men, arms, or ammunition,
without further notice, or unless in case of an attack on the fort.

The building of batteries around Fort Sumter had been begun, under the
orders of Governor Pickens, about the first of January, and continued
with industry and energy; and about the first of March General
Beauregard, an accomplished engineer officer, was sent by the
Confederate government to take charge of and complete the works. On
April 1 he telegraphed to Montgomery: "Batteries ready to open Wednesday
or Thursday. What instructions?"

At this point, the Confederate authorities at Montgomery found
themselves face to face with the fatal alternative either to begin war
or to allow their rebellion to collapse. Their claim to independence was
denied, their commissioners were refused a hearing; yet not an angry
word, provoking threat, nor harmful act had come from President Lincoln.
He had promised them peace, protection, freedom from irritation; had
offered them the benefit of the mails. Even now, all he proposed to do
was--not to send guns or ammunition or men to Sumter, but only bread and
provisions to Anderson and his soldiers. His prudent policy placed them
in the exact attitude described a month earlier in his inaugural; they
could have no conflict without being themselves the aggressors. But the
rebellion was organized by ambitious men with desperate intentions. A
member of the Alabama legislature, present at Montgomery, said to
Jefferson Davis and three members of his cabinet: "Gentlemen, unless you
sprinkle blood in the face of the people of Alabama, they will be back
in the old Union in less than ten days." And the sanguinary advice was
adopted. In answer to his question, "What instructions?" Beauregard on
April 10 was ordered to demand the evacuation of Fort Sumter, and, in
case of refusal, to reduce it.

The demand was presented to Anderson, who replied that he would evacuate
the fort by noon of April 15, unless assailed, or unless he received
supplies or controlling instructions from his government. This answer
being unsatisfactory to Beauregard, he sent Anderson notice that he
would open fire on Sumter at 4:20 on the morning of April 12.

Promptly at the hour indicated the bombardment was begun. As has been
related, the rebel siege-works were built on the points of the islands
forming the harbor, at distances varying from thirteen hundred to
twenty-five hundred yards, and numbered nineteen batteries, with an
armament of forty-seven guns, supported by a land force of from four to
six thousand volunteers. The disproportion between means of attack and
defense was enormous. Sumter, though a work three hundred by three
hundred and fifty feet in size, with well-constructed walls and
casemates of brick, was in very meager preparation for such a conflict.
Of its forty-eight available guns, only twenty-one were in the
casemates, twenty-seven being on the rampart _en barbette_. The garrison
consisted of nine commissioned officers, sixty-eight non-commissioned
officers and privates, eight musicians, and forty-three non-combatant
workmen compelled by the besiegers to remain to hasten the consumption
of provisions.

Under the fire of the seventeen mortars in the rebel batteries, Anderson
could reply only with a vertical fire from the guns of small caliber in
his casemates, which was of no effect against the rebel bomb-proofs of
sand and roofs of sloping railroad iron; but, refraining from exposing
his men to serve his barbette guns, his garrison was also safe in its
protecting casemates. It happened, therefore, that although the attack
was spirited and the defense resolute, the combat went on for a day and
a half without a single casualty. It came to an end on the second day
only when the cartridges of the garrison were exhausted, and the red-hot
shot from the rebel batteries had set the buildings used as officers'
quarters on fire, creating heat and smoke that rendered further defense
impossible.

There was also the further discouragement that the expedition of relief
which Anderson had been instructed to look for on the eleventh or
twelfth, had failed to appear. Several unforeseen contingencies had
prevented the assembling of the vessels at the appointed rendezvous
outside Charleston harbor, though some of them reached it in time to
hear the opening guns of the bombardment. But as accident had deranged
and thwarted the plan agreed upon, they could do nothing except
impatiently await the issue of the fight.

A little after noon of April 13, when the flagstaff of the fort had been
shot away and its guns remained silent, an invitation to capitulate with
the honors of war came from General Beauregard, which Anderson accepted;
and on the following day, Sunday, April 14, he hauled down his flag with
impressive ceremonies, and leaving the fort with his faithful garrison,
proceeded in a steamer to New York.




XIV

President's Proclamation Calling for Seventy-five Regiments--Responses
of the Governors--Maryland and Virginia--The Baltimore Riot--Washington
Isolated--Lincoln Takes the Responsibility--Robert E. Lee--Arrival of
the New York Seventh--Suspension of Habeas Corpus--The Annapolis
Route--Butler in Baltimore--Taney on the Merryman
Case--Kentucky--Missouri--Lyon Captures Camp Jackson--Boonville
Skirmish--The Missouri Convention--Gamble made Governor--The Border
States


The bombardment of Fort Sumter changed the political situation as if by
magic. There was no longer room for doubt, hesitation, concession, or
compromise. Without awaiting the arrival of the ships that were bringing
provisions to Anderson's starving garrison, the hostile Charleston
batteries had opened their fire on the fort by the formal order of the
Confederate government, and peaceable secession was, without
provocation, changed to active war. The rebels gained possession of
Charleston harbor; but their mode of obtaining it awakened the
patriotism of the American people to a stern determination that the
insult to the national authority and flag should be redressed, and the
unrighteous experiment of a rival government founded on slavery as its
corner-stone should never succeed. Under the conflict thus begun the
long-tolerated barbarous institution itself was destined ignobly to
perish.

On his journey from Springfield to Washington Mr. Lincoln had said that,
devoted as he was to peace, he might find it necessary "to put the foot
down firmly." That time had now come. On the morning of April 15, 1861,
the leading newspapers of the country printed the President's
proclamation reciting that, whereas the laws of the United States were
opposed and the execution thereof obstructed in the States of South
Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas,
by combinations too powerful to be suppressed by the ordinary course of
judicial proceedings, the militia of the several States of the Union, to
the aggregate number of seventy-five thousand, was called forth to
suppress said combinations and cause the laws to be duly executed. The
orders of the War Department specified that the period of service under
this call should be for three months; and to further conform to the
provisions of the Act of 1795, under which the call was issued, the
President's proclamation also convened the Congress in special session
on the coming fourth of July.

Public opinion in the free States, which had been sadly demoralized by
the long discussions over slavery, and by the existence of four factions
in the late presidential campaign, was instantly crystallized and
consolidated by the Sumter bombardment and the President's proclamation
into a sentiment of united support to the government for the suppression
of the rebellion. The several free-State governors sent loyal and
enthusiastic responses to the call for militia, and tendered double the
numbers asked for. The people of the slave States which had not yet
joined the Montgomery Confederacy--namely, Virginia, North Carolina,
Tennessee, Arkansas, Missouri, Kentucky, Maryland, and
Delaware--remained, however, more or less divided on the issue as it
now presented itself. The governors of the first six of these were
already so much engaged in the secret intrigues of the secession
movement that they sent the Secretary of War contumacious and insulting
replies, and distinct refusals to the President's call for troops. The
governor of Delaware answered that there was no organized militia in his
State which he had legal authority to command, but that the officers of
organized volunteer regiments might at their own option offer their
services to the United States; while the governor of Maryland, in
complying with the requisition, stipulated that the regiments from his
State should not be required to serve outside its limits, except to
defend the District of Columbia.

A swift, almost bewildering rush of events, however, quickly compelled
most of them to take sides. Secession feeling was rampant in Baltimore;
and when the first armed and equipped Northern regiment, the
Massachusetts Sixth, passed through that city on the morning of April
19, on its way to Washington, the last four of its companies were
assailed by street mobs with missiles and firearms while marching from
one depot to the other; and in the running fight which ensued, four of
its soldiers were killed and about thirty wounded, while the mob
probably lost two or three times as many. This tragedy instantly threw
the whole city into a wild frenzy of insurrection. That same afternoon
an immense secession meeting in Monument Square listened to a torrent of
treasonable protest and denunciation, in which Governor Hicks himself
was made momentarily to join. The militia was called out, preparations
were made to arm the city, and that night the railroad bridges were
burned between Baltimore and the Pennsylvania line to prevent the
further transit of Union regiments. The revolutionary furor spread to
the country towns, and for a whole week the Union flag practically
disappeared from Maryland.

While these events were taking place to the north, equally threatening
incidents were occurring to the south of Washington. The State of
Virginia had been for many weeks balancing uneasily between loyalty and
secession. In the new revolutionary stress her weak remnant of
conditional Unionism gave way; and on April 17, two days after the
President's call, her State convention secretly passed a secession
ordinance, while Governor Letcher ordered a military seizure of the
United States navy-yard at Norfolk and the United States armory at
Harper's Ferry. Under orders from Washington, both establishments were
burned to prevent their falling into insurrectionary hands; but the
destruction in each case was only partial, and much valuable war
material thus passed to rebel uses.

All these hostile occurrences put the national capital in the greatest
danger. For three days it was entirely cut off from communication with
the North by either telegraph or mail. Under the orders of General
Scott, the city was hastily prepared for a possible siege. The flour at
the mills, and other stores of provisions were taken possession of. The
Capitol and other public buildings were barricaded, and detachments of
troops stationed in them. Business was suspended by a common impulse;
streets were almost deserted except by squads of military patrol;
shutters of stores, and even many residences, remained unopened
throughout the day. The signs were none too reassuring. In addition to
the public rumors whispered about by serious faces on the streets,
General Scott reported in writing to President Lincoln on the evening of
April 22:

"Of rumors, the following are probable, viz.: _First_, that from
fifteen hundred to two thousand troops are at the White House (four
miles below Mount Vernon, a narrow point in the Potomac), engaged in
erecting a battery; _Second_, that an equal force is collected or in
progress of assemblage on the two sides of the river to attack Fort
Washington; and _Third_, that extra cars went up yesterday to bring down
from Harper's Ferry about two thousand other troops to join in a general
attack on this capital--that is, on many of its fronts at once. I feel
confident that with our present forces we can defend the Capitol, the
Arsenal, and all the executive buildings (seven) against ten thousand
troops not better than our District volunteers."

Throughout this crisis President Lincoln not only maintained his
composure, but promptly assumed the high responsibilities the occasion
demanded. On Sunday, April 21, he summoned his cabinet to meet at the
Navy Department, and with their unanimous concurrence issued a number of
emergency orders relating to the purchase of ships, the transportation
of troops and munitions of war, the advance of $2,000,000 of money to a
Union Safety Committee in New York, and other military and naval
measures, which were despatched in duplicate by private messengers over
unusual and circuitous routes. In a message to Congress, in which he
afterward explained these extraordinary transactions, he said:

"It became necessary for me to choose whether, using only the existing
means, agencies, and processes which Congress had provided, I should let
the government fall at once into ruin, or whether, availing myself of
the broader powers conferred by the Constitution in cases of
insurrection, I would make an effort to save it with all its blessings
for the present age and for posterity."

Unwelcome as was the thought of a possible capture of Washington city,
President Lincoln's mind was much more disturbed by many suspicious
indications of disloyalty in public officials, and especially in
officers of the army and navy. Hundreds of clerks of Southern birth
employed in the various departments suddenly left their desks and went
South. The commandant of the Washington navy-yard and the
quartermaster-general of the army resigned their positions to take
service under Jefferson Davis. One morning the captain of a light
battery on which General Scott had placed special reliance for the
defense of Washington came to the President at the White House to
asseverate and protest his loyalty and fidelity; and that same night
secretly left his post and went to Richmond to become a Confederate
officer.

The most prominent case, however, was that of Colonel Robert E. Lee, the
officer who captured John Brown at Harper's Ferry, and who afterward
became the leader of the Confederate armies. As a lieutenant he had
served on the staff of General Scott in the war with Mexico. Personally
knowing his ability, Scott recommended him to Lincoln as the most
suitable officer to command the Union army about to be assembled under
the President's call for seventy-five regiments; and this command was
informally tendered him through a friend. Lee, however, declined the
offer, explaining that "though opposed to secession, and deprecating
war, I could take no part in an invasion of the Southern States." He
resigned his commission in a letter written on April 20, and, without
waiting for notice of its acceptance, which alone could discharge him
from his military obligation, proceeded to Richmond, where he was
formally and publicly invested with the command of the Virginia military
and naval forces on April 22; while, two days later, the rebel
Vice-President, Alexander H. Stephens, and a committee of the Richmond
convention signed a formal military league making Virginia an immediate
member of the Confederate States, and placing her armies under the
command of Jefferson Davis.

The sudden uprising in Maryland and the insurrectionary activity in
Virginia had been largely stimulated by the dream of the leading
conspirators that their new confederacy would combine all the slave
States, and that by the adhesion of both Maryland and Virginia they
would fall heir to a ready-made seat of government. While the
bombardment of Sumter was in progress, the rebel Secretary of War,
announcing the news in a jubilant speech at Montgomery, in the presence
of Jefferson Davis and his colleagues, confidently predicted that the
rebel flag would before the end of May "float over the dome of the
Capitol at Washington." The disloyal demonstrations in Maryland and
Virginia rendered such a hope so plausible that Jefferson Davis
telegraphed to Governor Letcher at Richmond that he was preparing to
send him thirteen regiments, and added: "Sustain Baltimore if
practicable. We reinforce you"; while Senator Mason hurried to that city
personally to furnish advice and military assistance.

But the flattering expectation was not realized. The requisite
preparation and concert of action were both wanting. The Union troops
from New York and New England, pouring into Philadelphia, flanked the
obstructions of the Baltimore route by devising a new one by way of
Chesapeake Bay and Annapolis; and the opportune arrival of the Seventh
Regiment of New York in Washington, on April 25, rendered that city
entirely safe against surprise or attack, relieved the apprehension of
officials and citizens, and renewed its business and public activity.
The mob frenzy of Baltimore and the Maryland towns subsided almost as
quickly as it had risen. The Union leaders and newspapers asserted
themselves, and soon demonstrated their superiority in numbers and
activity.

Serious embarrassment had been created by the timidity of Governor
Hicks, who, while Baltimore remained under mob terrorism, officially
protested against the landing of Union troops at Annapolis; and, still
worse, summoned the Maryland legislature to meet on April 26--a step
which he had theretofore stubbornly refused to take. This event had
become doubly dangerous, because a Baltimore city election held during
the same terror week had reinforced the legislature with ten secession
members, creating a majority eager to pass a secession ordinance at the
first opportunity. The question of either arresting or dispersing the
body by military force was one of the problems which the crisis forced
upon President Lincoln. On full reflection he decided against either
measure.

"I think it would not be justifiable," he wrote to General Scott, "nor
efficient for the desired object. _First_, they have a clearly legal
right to assemble; and we cannot know in advance that their action will
not be lawful and peaceful. And if we wait until they shall have acted,
their arrest or dispersion will not lessen the effect of their action.
_Secondly_, we cannot permanently prevent their action. If we arrest
them, we cannot long hold them as prisoners; and, when liberated, they
will immediately reassemble and take their action. And precisely the
same if we simply disperse them: they will immediately reassemble in
some other place. I therefore conclude that it is only left to the
commanding general to watch and await their action, which, if it shall
be to arm their people against the United States, he is to adopt the
most prompt and efficient means to counteract, even if necessary to the
bombardment of their cities; and, in the extremest necessity, the
suspension of the writ of _habeas corpus_."

Two days later the President formally authorized General Scott to
suspend the writ of _habeas corpus_ along his military lines, or in
their vicinity, if resistance should render it necessary. Arrivals of
additional troops enabled the General to strengthen his military hold on
Annapolis and the railroads; and on May 13 General B.F. Butler, with
about one thousand men, moved into Baltimore and established a fortified
camp on Federal Hill, the bulk of his force being the Sixth
Massachusetts, which had been mobbed in that city on April 19. Already,
on the previous day, the bridges and railroad had been repaired, and the
regular transit of troops through the city reëstablished.

Under these changing conditions the secession majority of the Maryland
legislature did not venture on any official treason. They sent a
committee to interview the President, vented their hostility in spiteful
reports and remonstrances, and prolonged their session by a recess.
Nevertheless, so inveterate was their disloyalty and plotting against
the authority of the Union, that four months later it became necessary
to place the leaders under arrest, finally to head off their darling
project of a Maryland secession ordinance.

One additional incident of this insurrectionary period remains to be
noticed. One John Merryman, claiming to be a Confederate lieutenant, was
arrested in Baltimore for enlisting men for the rebellion, and Chief
Justice Taney of the United States Supreme Court, the famous author of
the Dred Scott decision, issued a writ of _habeas corpus_ to obtain his
release from Fort McHenry. Under the President's orders, General
Cadwalader of course declined to obey the writ. Upon this, the chief
justice ordered the general's arrest for contempt, but the officer sent
to serve the writ was refused entrance to the fort. In turn, the
indignant chief justice, taking counsel of his passion instead of his
patriotism, announced dogmatically that "the President, under the
Constitution and laws of the United States, cannot suspend the privilege
of the writ of _habeas corpus_, nor authorize any military officer to do
so"; and some weeks afterward filed a long written opinion in support of
this dictum. It is unnecessary here to quote the opinions of several
eminent jurists who successfully refuted his labored argument, nor to
repeat the vigorous analysis with which, in his special message to
Congress of July 4, President Lincoln vindicated his own authority.

While these events were occurring in Maryland and Virginia, the
remaining slave States were gradually taking sides, some for, others
against rebellion. Under radical and revolutionary leadership similar to
that of the cotton States, the governors and State officials of North
Carolina, Tennessee, and Arkansas placed their States in an attitude of
insurrection, and before the middle of May practically joined them to
the Confederate government by the formalities of military leagues and
secession ordinances.

But in the border slave States--that is, those contiguous to the free
States--the eventual result was different. In these, though secession
intrigue and sympathy were strong, and though their governors and State
officials favored the rebellion, the underlying loyalty and Unionism of
the people thwarted their revolutionary schemes. This happened even in
the northwestern part of Virginia itself. The forty-eight counties of
that State lying north of the Alleghanies and adjoining Pennsylvania and
Ohio repudiated the action at Richmond, seceded from secession, and
established a loyal provisional State government. President Lincoln
recognized them and sustained them with military aid; and in due time
they became organized and admitted to the Union as the State of West
Virginia. In Delaware, though some degree of secession feeling existed,
it was too insignificant to produce any note-worthy public
demonstration.

In Kentucky the political struggle was deep and prolonged. The governor
twice called the legislature together to initiate secession proceedings;
but that body refused compliance, and warded off his scheme by voting to
maintain the State neutrality. Next, the governor sought to utilize the
military organization known as the State Guard to effect his object. The
Union leaders offset this movement by enlisting several volunteer Union
regiments. At the June election nine Union congressmen were chosen, and
only one secessionist; while in August a new legislature was elected
with a three-fourths Union majority in each branch. Other secession
intrigues proved equally abortive; and when, finally, in September,
Confederate armies invaded Kentucky at three different points, the
Kentucky legislature invited the Union armies of the West into the State
to expel them, and voted to place forty thousand Union volunteers at the
service of President Lincoln.

In Missouri the struggle was more fierce, but also more brief. As far
back as January, the conspirators had perfected a scheme to obtain
possession, through the treachery of the officer in charge, of the
important Jefferson Barracks arsenal at St. Louis, with its store of
sixty thousand stand of arms and a million and a half cartridges. The
project, however, failed. Rumors of the danger came to General Scott,
who ordered thither a company of regulars under command of Captain
Nathaniel Lyon, an officer not only loyal by nature and habit, but also
imbued with strong antislavery convictions. Lyon found valuable support
in the watchfulness of a Union Safety Committee composed of leading St.
Louis citizens, who secretly organized a number of Union regiments
recruited largely from the heavy German population; and from these
sources Lyon was enabled to make such a show of available military force
as effectively to deter any mere popular uprising to seize the arsenal.

A State convention, elected to pass a secession ordinance, resulted,
unexpectedly to the conspirators, in the return of a majority of Union
delegates, who voted down the secession program and adjourned to the
following December. Thereupon, the secession governor ordered his State
militia into temporary camps of instruction, with the idea of taking
Missouri out of the Union by a concerted military movement. One of these
encampments, established at St. Louis and named Camp Jackson in honor of
the governor, furnished such unquestionable evidences of intended
treason that Captain Lyon, whom President Lincoln had meanwhile
authorized to enlist ten thousand Union volunteers, and, if necessary,
to proclaim martial law, made a sudden march upon Camp Jackson with his
regulars and six of his newly enlisted regiments, stationed his force in
commanding positions around the camp, and demanded its surrender. The
demand was complied with after but slight hesitation, and the captured
militia regiments were, on the following day, disbanded under parole.
Unfortunately, as the prisoners were being marched away a secession mob
insulted and attacked some of Lyon's regiments and provoked a return
fire, in which about twenty persons, mainly lookers-on, were killed or
wounded; and for a day or two the city was thrown into the panic and
lawlessness of a reign of terror.

Upon this, the legislature, in session at Jefferson City, the capital of
the State, with a three-fourths secession majority, rushed through the
forms of legislation a military bill placing the military and financial
resources of Missouri under the governor's control. For a month longer
various incidents delayed the culmination of the approaching struggle,
each side continuing its preparations, and constantly accentuating the
rising antagonism. The crisis came when, on June 11, Governor Jackson
and Captain Lyon, now made brigadier-general by the President, met in an
interview at St. Louis. In this interview the governor demanded that he
be permitted to exercise sole military command to maintain the
neutrality of Missouri, while Lyon insisted that the Federal military
authority must be left in unrestricted control. It being impossible to
reach any agreement, Governor Jackson hurried back to his capital,
burning railroad bridges behind him as he went, and on the following
day, June 12, issued his proclamation calling out fifty thousand State
militia, and denouncing the Lincoln administration as "an
unconstitutional military despotism."

Lyon was also prepared for this contingency. On the afternoon of June
13, he embarked with a regular battery and several battalions of his
Union volunteers on steamboats, moved rapidly up the Missouri River to
Jefferson City, drove the governor and the secession legislature into
precipitate flight, took possession of the capital, and, continuing his
expedition, scattered, after a slight skirmish, a small rebel military
force which had hastily collected at Boonville. Rapidly following these
events, the loyal members of the Missouri State convention, which had in
February refused to pass a secession ordinance, were called together,
and passed ordinances under which was constituted a loyal State
government that maintained the local civil authority of the United
States throughout the greater part of Missouri during the whole of the
Civil War, only temporarily interrupted by invasions of transient
Confederate armies from Arkansas.

It will be seen from the foregoing outline that the original hope of the
Southern leaders to make the Ohio River the northern boundary of their
slave empire was not realized. They indeed secured the adhesion of
Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, and Arkansas, by which the
territory of the Confederate States government was enlarged nearly one
third and its population and resources nearly doubled. But the northern
tier of slave States--Maryland, West Virginia, Kentucky, and
Missouri--not only decidedly refused to join the rebellion, but remained
true to the Union; and this reduced the contest to a trial of military
strength between eleven States with 5,115,790 whites, and 3,508,131
slaves, against twenty-four States with 21,611,422 whites and 342,212
slaves, and at least a proportionate difference in all other resources
of war. At the very outset the conditions were prophetic of the result.




XV

Davis's Proclamation for Privateers--Lincoln's Proclamation of
Blockade--The Call for Three Years' Volunteers--Southern Military
Preparations--Rebel Capital Moved to Richmond--Virginia, North Carolina,
Tennessee and Arkansas Admitted to Confederate States--Desertion of Army
and Navy Officers--Union Troops Fortify Virginia Shore of the
Potomac--Concentration at Harper's Ferry--Concentration at Fortress
Monroe and Cairo--English Neutrality--Seward's 21st-of-May
Despatch--Lincoln's Corrections--Preliminary Skirmishes--Forward to
Richmond--Plan of McDowell's Campaign


From the slower political developments in the border slave States we
must return and follow up the primary hostilities of the rebellion. The
bombardment of Sumter, President Lincoln's call for troops, the
Baltimore riot, the burning of Harper's Ferry armory and Norfolk
navy-yard, and the interruption of railroad communication which, for
nearly a week, isolated the capital and threatened it with siege and
possible capture, fully demonstrated the beginning of serious civil war.

Jefferson Davis's proclamation, on April 17, of intention to issue
letters of marque, was met two days later by President Lincoln's
counter-proclamation instituting a blockade of the Southern ports, and
declaring that privateers would be held amenable to the laws against
piracy. His first call for seventy-five thousand three months' militia
was dictated as to numbers by the sudden emergency, and as to form and
term of service by the provisions of the Act of 1795. It needed only a
few days to show that this form of enlistment was both cumbrous and
inadequate; and the creation of a more powerful army was almost
immediately begun. On May 3 a new proclamation was issued, calling into
service 42,034 three years' volunteers, 22,714 enlisted men to add ten
regiments to the regular army, and 18,000 seamen for blockade service: a
total immediate increase of 82,748, swelling the entire military
establishment to an army of 156,861 and a navy of 25,000.

No express authority of law yet existed for these measures; but
President Lincoln took the responsibility of ordering them, trusting
that Congress would legalize his acts. His confidence was entirely
justified. At the special session which met under his proclamation, on
the fourth of July, these acts were declared valid, and he was
authorized, moreover, to raise an army of a million men and $250,000,000
in money to carry on the war to suppress the rebellion; while other
legislation conferred upon him supplementary authority to meet the
emergency.

Meanwhile, the first effort of the governors of the loyal States was to
furnish their quotas under the first call for militia. This was easy
enough as to men. It required only a few days to fill the regiments and
forward them to the State capitals and principal cities; but to arm and
equip them for the field on the spur of the moment was a difficult task
which involved much confusion and delay, even though existing armories
and foundries pushed their work to the utmost and new ones were
established. Under the militia call, the governors appointed all the
officers required by their respective quotas, from company lieutenant to
major-general of division; while under the new call for three years'
volunteers, their authority was limited to the simple organization of
regiments.

In the South, war preparation also immediately became active. All the
indications are that up to their attack on Sumter, the Southern leaders
hoped to effect separation through concession and compromise by the
North. That hope, of course, disappeared with South Carolina's opening
guns, and the Confederate government made what haste it could to meet
the ordeal it dreaded even while it had provoked it. The rebel Congress
was hastily called together, and passed acts recognizing war and
regulating privateering; admitting Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee,
and Arkansas to the Confederate States; authorizing a $50,000,000 loan;
practically confiscating debts due from Southern to Northern citizens;
and removing the seat of government from Montgomery, Alabama, to
Richmond, Virginia.

Four different calls for Southern volunteers had been made, aggregating
82,000 men; and Jefferson Davis's message now proposed to further
organize and hold in readiness an army of 100,000. The work of erecting
forts and batteries for defense was being rapidly pushed at all points:
on the Atlantic coast, on the Potomac, and on the Mississippi and other
Western streams. For the present the Confederates were well supplied
with cannon and small arms from the captured navy-yards at Norfolk and
Pensacola and the six or eight arsenals located in the South. The
martial spirit of their people was roused to the highest enthusiasm, and
there was no lack of volunteers to fill the companies and regiments
which the Confederate legislators authorized Davis to accept, either by
regular calls on State executives in accordance with, or singly in
defiance of, their central dogma of States Rights, as he might prefer.

The secession of the Southern States not only strengthened the rebellion
with the arms and supplies stored in the various military and naval
depots within their limits, and the fortifications erected for their
defense: what was of yet greater help to the revolt, a considerable
portion of the officers of the army and navy--perhaps one
third--abandoned the allegiance which they had sworn to the United
States, and, under the false doctrine of State supremacy taught by
Southern leaders, gave their professional skill and experience to the
destruction of the government which had educated and honored them. The
defection of Robert E. Lee was a conspicuous example, and his loss to
the Union and service to the rebel army cannot easily be measured. So,
also, were the similar cases of Adjutant-General Cooper and
Quartermaster-General Johnston. In gratifying contrast stands the
steadfast loyalty and devotion of Lieutenant-General Winfield Scott,
who, though he was a Virginian and loved his native State, never wavered
an instant in his allegiance to the flag he had heroically followed in
the War of 1812, and triumphantly planted over the capital of Mexico in
1847. Though unable to take the field, he as general-in-chief directed
the assembling and first movements of the Union troops.

The largest part of the three months' regiments were ordered to
Washington city as the most important position in a political, and most
exposed in a military point of view. The great machine of war, once
started, moved, as it always does, by its own inherent energy from
arming to concentration, from concentration to skirmish and battle. It
was not long before Washington was a military camp. Gradually the
hesitation to "invade" the "sacred soil" of the South faded out under
the stern necessity to forestall an invasion of the equally sacred soil
of the North; and on May 24 the Union regiments in Washington crossed
the Potomac and planted themselves in a great semicircle of formidable
earthworks eighteen miles long on the Virginia shore, from Chain Bridge
to Hunting Creek, below Alexandria.

Meanwhile, a secondary concentration of force developed itself at
Harper's Ferry, forty-nine miles northwest of Washington. When, on April
20, a Union detachment had burned and abandoned the armory at that
point, it was at once occupied by a handful of rebel militia; and
immediately thereafter Jefferson Davis had hurried his regiments thither
to "sustain" or overawe Baltimore; and when that prospect failed, it
became a rebel camp of instruction. Afterward, as Major-General
Patterson collected his Pennsylvania quota, he turned it toward that
point as a probable field of operations. As a mere town, Harper's Ferry
was unimportant; but, lying on the Potomac, and being at the head of the
great Shenandoah valley, down which not only a good turnpike, but also
an effective railroad ran southeastward to the very heart of the
Confederacy, it was, and remained through the entire war, a strategical
line of the first importance, protected, as the Shenandoah valley was,
by the main chain of the Alleghanies on the west and the Blue Ridge on
the east.

A part of the eastern quotas had also been hurried to Fortress Monroe,
Virginia, lying at the mouth of Chesapeake Bay, which became and
continued an important base for naval as well as military operations. In
the West, even more important than St. Louis was the little town of
Cairo, lying at the extreme southern end of the State of Illinois, at
the confluence of the Ohio River with the Mississippi. Commanding, as it
did, thousands of miles of river navigation in three different
directions, and being also the southernmost point of the earliest
military frontier, it had been the first care of General Scott to occupy
it; and, indeed, it proved itself to be the military key of the whole
Mississippi valley.

It was not an easy thing promptly to develop a military policy for the
suppression of the rebellion. The so-called Confederate States of
America covered a military field having more than six times the area of
Great Britain, with a coast-line of over thirty-five hundred miles, and
an interior frontier of over seven thousand miles. Much less was it
possible promptly to plan and set on foot concise military campaigns to
reduce the insurgent States to allegiance. Even the great military
genius of General Scott was unable to do more than suggest a vague
outline for the work. The problem was not only too vast, but as yet too
indefinite, since the political future of West Virginia, Kentucky, and
Missouri still hung in more or less uncertainty.

The passive and negligent attitude which the Buchanan administration had
maintained toward the insurrection during the whole three months between
the presidential election and Mr. Lincoln's inauguration, gave the
rebellion an immense advantage in the courts and cabinets of Europe.
Until within three days of the end of Buchanan's term not a word of
protest or even explanation was sent to counteract the impression that
disunion was likely to become permanent. Indeed, the non-coercion
doctrine of Buchanan's message was, in the eyes of European statesmen,
equivalent to an acknowledgment of such a result; and the formation of
the Confederate government, followed so quickly by the fall of Fort
Sumter, seemed to them a practical realization of their forecast. The
course of events appeared not merely to fulfil their expectations, but
also, in the case of England and France, gratified their eager hopes. To
England it promised cheap cotton and free trade with the South. To
France it appeared to open the way for colonial ambitions which Napoleon
III so soon set on foot on an imperial scale.

Before Charles Francis Adams, whom President Lincoln appointed as the
new minister to England, arrived in London and obtained an interview
with Lord John Russell, Mr. Seward had already received several items of
disagreeable news. One was that, prior to his arrival, the Queen's
proclamation of neutrality had been published, practically raising the
Confederate States to the rank of a belligerent power, and, before they
had a single privateer afloat, giving these an equality in British ports
with United States ships of war. Another was that an understanding had
been reached between England and France which would lead both
governments to take the same course as to recognition, whatever that
course might be. Third, that three diplomatic agents of the Confederate
States were in London, whom the British minister had not yet seen, but
whom he had caused to be informed that he was not unwilling to see
unofficially.

Under the irritation produced by this hasty and equivocal action of the
British government, Mr. Seward wrote a despatch to Mr. Adams under date
of May 21, which, had it been sent in the form of the original draft,
would scarcely have failed to lead to war between the two nations. While
it justly set forth with emphasis and courage what the government of the
United States would endure and what it would not endure from foreign
powers during the Southern insurrection, its phraseology, written in a
heat of indignation, was so blunt and exasperating as to imply
intentional disrespect.

When Mr. Seward read the document to President Lincoln, the latter at
once perceived its objectionable tone, and retained it for further
reflection. A second reading confirmed his first impression. Thereupon,
taking his pen, the frontier lawyer, in a careful revision of the whole
despatch, so amended and changed the work of the trained and experienced
statesman, as entirely to eliminate its offensive crudeness, and bring
it within all the dignity and reserve of the most studied diplomatic
courtesy. If, after Mr. Seward's remarkable memorandum of April 1, the
Secretary of State had needed any further experience to convince him of
the President's mastery in both administrative and diplomatic judgment,
this second incident afforded him the full evidence.

No previous President ever had such a sudden increase of official work
devolve upon him as President Lincoln during the early months of his
administration. The radical change of parties through which he was
elected not only literally filled the White House with applicants for
office, but practically compelled a wholesale substitution of new
appointees for the old, to represent the new thought and will of the
nation. The task of selecting these was greatly complicated by the sharp
competition between the heterogeneous elements of which the Republican
party was composed. This work was not half completed when the Sumter
bombardment initiated active rebellion, and precipitated the new
difficulty of sifting the loyal from the disloyal, and the yet more
pressing labor of scrutinizing the organization of the immense new
volunteer army called into service by the proclamation of May 3. Mr.
Lincoln used often to say at this period, when besieged by claims to
appointment, that he felt like a man letting rooms at one end of his
house, while the other end was on fire. In addition to this merely
routine work was the much more delicate and serious duty of deciding the
hundreds of novel questions affecting the constitutional principles and
theories of administration.

The great departments of government, especially those of war and navy,
could not immediately expedite either the supervision or clerical
details of this sudden expansion, and almost every case of resulting
confusion and delay was brought by impatient governors and State
officials to the President for complaint and correction. Volunteers were
coming rapidly enough to the various rendezvous in the different States,
but where were the rations to feed them, money to pay them, tents to
shelter them, uniforms to clothe them, rifles to arm them, officers to
drill and instruct them, or transportation to carry them? In this
carnival of patriotism, this hurly-burly of organization, the weaknesses
as well as the virtues of human nature quickly developed themselves, and
there was manifest not only the inevitable friction of personal rivalry,
but also the disturbing and baneful effects of occasional falsehood and
dishonesty, which could not always be immediately traced to the
responsible culprit. It happened in many instances that there were
alarming discrepancies between the full paper regiments and brigades
reported as ready to start from State capitals, and the actual number of
recruits that railroad trains brought to the Washington camps; and Mr.
Lincoln several times ironically compared the process to that of a man
trying to shovel a bushel of fleas across a barn floor.

While the month of May insensibly slipped away amid these preparatory
vexations, camps of instruction rapidly grew to small armies at a few
principal points, even under such incidental delay and loss; and during
June the confronting Union and Confederate forces began to produce the
conflicts and casualties of earnest war. As yet they were both few and
unimportant: the assassination of Ellsworth when Alexandria was
occupied; a slight cavalry skirmish at Fairfax Court House; the rout of
a Confederate regiment at Philippi, West Virginia; the blundering
leadership through which two Union detachments fired upon each other in
the dark at Big Bethel, Virginia; the ambush of a Union railroad train
at Vienna Station; and Lyon's skirmish, which scattered the first
collection of rebels at Boonville, Missouri. Comparatively speaking all
these were trivial in numbers of dead and wounded--the first few drops
of blood before the heavy sanguinary showers the future was destined to
bring. But the effect upon the public was irritating and painful to a
degree entirely out of proportion to their real extent and gravity.

The relative loss and gain in these affairs was not greatly unequal. The
victories of Philippi and Boonville easily offset the disasters of Big
Bethel and Vienna. But the public mind was not yet schooled to patience
and to the fluctuating chances of war. The newspapers demanded prompt
progress and ample victory as imperatively as they were wont to demand
party triumph in politics or achievement in commercial enterprise.
"Forward to Richmond," repeated the "New York Tribune," day after day,
and many sheets of lesser note and influence echoed the cry. There
seemed, indeed, a certain reason for this clamor, because the period of
enlistment of the three months' regiments was already two thirds gone,
and they were not yet all armed and equipped for field service.

President Lincoln was fully alive to the need of meeting this popular
demand. The special session of Congress was soon to begin, and to it the
new administration must look, not only to ratify what had been done, but
to authorize a large increase of the military force, and heavy loans for
coming expenses of the war. On June 29, therefore, he called his cabinet
and principal military officers to a council of war at the Executive
Mansion, to discuss a more formidable campaign than had yet been
planned. General Scott was opposed to such an undertaking at that time.
He preferred waiting until autumn, meanwhile organizing and drilling a
large army, with which to move down the Mississippi and end the war with
a final battle at New Orleans. Aside from the obvious military
objections to this course, such a procrastination, in the present
irritation of the public temper, was not to be thought of; and the old
general gracefully waived his preference and contributed his best
judgment to the perfecting of an immediate campaign into Virginia.

The Confederate forces in Virginia had been gathered by the orders of
General Lee into a defensive position at Manassas Junction, where a
railroad from Richmond and another from Harper's Ferry come together.
Here General Beauregard, who had organized and conducted the Sumter
bombardment, had command of a total of about twenty-five thousand men
which he was drilling. The Junction was fortified with some slight
field-works and fifteen heavy guns, supported by a garrison of two
thousand; while the main body was camped in a line of seven miles'
length behind Bull Run, a winding, sluggish stream flowing southeasterly
toward the Potomac. The distance was about thirty-two miles southwest of
Washington. Another Confederate force of about ten thousand, under
General J.E. Johnston, was collected at Winchester and Harper's Ferry
on the Potomac, to guard the entrance to the Shenandoah valley; and an
understanding existed between Johnston and Beauregard, that in case
either were attacked, the other would come to his aid by the quick
railroad transportation between the two places.

The new Union plan contemplated that Brigadier-General McDowell should
march from Washington against Manassas and Bull Run, with a force
sufficient to beat Beauregard, while General Patterson, who had
concentrated the bulk of the Pennsylvania regiments in the neighborhood
of Harper's Ferry, in numbers nearly or quite double that of his
antagonist, should move against Johnston, and either fight or hold him
so that he could not come to the aid of Beauregard. At the council
McDowell emphasized the danger of such a junction; but General Scott
assured him: "If Johnston joins Beauregard, he shall have Patterson on
his heels." With this understanding, McDowell's movement was ordered to
begin on July 9.




XVI

Congress--The President's Message--Men and Money Voted--The
Contraband--Dennison Appoints McClellan--Rich Mountain--McDowell--Bull
Run--Patterson's Failure--McClellan at Washington


While these preparations for a Virginia campaign were going on, another
campaign was also slowly shaping itself in Western Virginia; but before
either of them reached any decisive results the Thirty-seventh Congress,
chosen at the presidential election of 1860, met in special session on
the fourth of July, 1861, in pursuance of the President's proclamation
of April 15. There being no members present in either branch from the
seceded States, the number in each house was reduced nearly one third. A
great change in party feeling was also manifest. No more rampant
secession speeches were to be heard. Of the rare instances of men who
were yet to join the rebellion, ex-Vice-President Breckinridge was the
most conspicuous example; and their presence was offset by prominent
Southern Unionists like Andrew Johnson of Tennessee, and John J.
Crittenden of Kentucky. The heated antagonisms which had divided the
previous Congress into four clearly defined factions were so far
restrained or obliterated by the events of the past four months, as to
leave but a feeble opposition to the Republican majority now dominant in
both branches, which was itself rendered moderate and prudent by the new
conditions.

The message of President Lincoln was temperate in spirit, but positive
and strong in argument. Reciting the secession and rebellion of the
Confederate States, and their unprovoked assault on Fort Sumter, he
continued:

"Having said to them in the inaugural address, 'You can have no conflict
without being yourselves the aggressors,' he took pains not only to keep
this declaration good, but also to keep the case so free from the power
of ingenious sophistry that the world should not be able to
misunderstand it. By the affair at Fort Sumter, with its surrounding
circumstances, that point was reached. Then and thereby the assailants
of the government began the conflict of arms, without a gun in sight or
in expectancy to return their fire, save only the few in the fort sent
to that harbor years before for their own protection, and still ready to
give that protection in whatever was lawful.... This issue embraces more
than the fate of these United States. It presents to the whole family of
man the question whether a constitutional republic or democracy--a
government of the people by the same people--can or cannot maintain its
territorial integrity against its own domestic foes."

With his singular felicity of statement, he analyzed and refuted the
sophism that secession was lawful and constitutional.

"This sophism derives much, perhaps the whole, of its currency from the
assumption that there is some omnipotent and sacred supremacy pertaining
to a State--to each State of our Federal Union. Our States have neither
more nor less power than that reserved to them in the Union by the
Constitution--no one of them ever having been a State out of the
Union.... The States have their status in the Union, and they have no
other legal status. If they break from this, they can only do so against
law and by revolution. The Union, and not themselves separately,
procured their independence and their liberty. By conquest or purchase
the Union gave each of them whatever of independence or liberty it has.
The Union is older than any of the States, and, in fact, it created them
as States. Originally some dependent colonies made the Union, and, in
turn, the Union threw off their old dependence for them, and made them
States, such as they are. Not one of them ever had a State constitution
independent of the Union."

A noteworthy point in the message is President Lincoln's expression of
his abiding confidence in the intelligence and virtue of the people of
the United States.

"It may be affirmed," said he, "without extravagance that the free
institutions we enjoy have developed the powers and improved the
condition of our whole people beyond any example in the world. Of this
we now have a striking and an impressive illustration. So large an army
as the government has now on foot was never before known, without a
soldier in it but who has taken his place there of his own free choice.
But more than this, there are many single regiments whose members, one
and another, possess full practical knowledge of all the arts, sciences,
professions and whatever else, whether useful or elegant, is known in
the world; and there is scarcely one from which there could not be
selected a President, a cabinet a congress, and, perhaps, a court,
abundantly competent to administer the government itself.... This is
essentially a people's contest. On the side of the Union it is a
struggle for maintaining in the world that form and substance of
government whose leading object is to elevate the condition of men; to
lift artificial weights from all shoulders; to clear the paths of
laudable pursuit for all; to afford all an unfettered start, and a fair
chance in the race of life.... I am most happy to believe that the plain
people understand and appreciate this. It is worthy of note that while
in this, the government's hour of trial, large numbers of those in the
army and navy who have been favored with the offices have resigned and
proved false to the hand which had pampered them, not one common soldier
or common sailor is known to have deserted his flag."

Hearty applause greeted that portion of the message which asked for
means to make the contest short and decisive; and Congress acted
promptly by authorizing a loan of $250,000,000 and an army not to exceed
one million men. All of President Lincoln's war measures for which no
previous sanction of law existed were duly legalized; additional direct
income and tariff taxes were laid; and the Force Bill of 1795, and
various other laws relating to conspiracy, piracy, unlawful recruiting,
and kindred topics, were amended or passed.

Throughout the whole history of the South, by no means the least of the
evils entailed by the institution of slavery was the dread of slave
insurrections which haunted every master's household; and this vague
terror was at once intensified by the outbreak of civil war. It stands
to the lasting credit of the negro race in the United States that the
wrongs of their long bondage provoked them to no such crime, and that
the Civil War appears not to have even suggested, much less started, any
such organization or attempt. But the John Brown raid had indicated some
possibility of the kind, and when the Union troops began their movements
Generals Butler in Maryland and Patterson in Pennsylvania, moving
toward Harper's Ferry, and McClellan in West Virginia, in order to
reassure non-combatants, severally issued orders that all attempts at
slave insurrection should be suppressed. It was a most pointed and
significant warning to the leaders of the rebellion how much more
vulnerable the peculiar institution was in war than in peace, and that
their ill-considered scheme to protect and perpetuate slavery would
prove the most potent engine for its destruction.

The first effect of opening hostilities was to give adventurous or
discontented slaves the chance to escape into Union camps, where, even
against orders to the contrary, they found practical means of protection
or concealment for the sake of the help they could render as cooks,
servants, or teamsters, or for the information they could give or
obtain, or the invaluable service they could render as guides.
Practically, therefore, at the very beginning, the war created a bond of
mutual sympathy based on mutual helpfulness, between the Southern negro
and the Union volunteer; and as fast as the Union troops advanced, and
secession masters fled, more or less slaves found liberation and refuge
in the Union camps.

At some points, indeed, this tendency created an embarrassment to Union
commanders. A few days after General Butler assumed command of the Union
troops at Fortress Monroe, the agent of a rebel master who had fled from
the neighborhood came to demand, under the provisions of the
fugitive-slave law, three field hands alleged to be in Butler's camp.
Butler responded that as Virginia claimed to be a foreign country the
fugitive-slave law was clearly inoperative, unless the owner would come
and take an oath of allegiance to the United States. In connection with
this incident, the newspaper report stated that as the breastworks and
batteries which had been so rapidly erected for Confederate defense in
every direction on the Virginia peninsula were built by enforced negro
labor under rigorous military impressment, negroes were manifestly
contraband of war under international law. The dictum was so pertinent,
and the equity so plain, that, though it was not officially formulated
by the general until two months later, it sprang at once into popular
acceptance and application; and from that time forward the words "slave"
and "negro" were everywhere within the Union lines replaced by the
familiar, significant term "contraband."

While Butler's happy designation had a more convincing influence on
public thought than a volume of discussion, it did not immediately solve
the whole question. Within a few days he reported that he had slave
property to the value of $60,000 in his hands, and by the end of July
nine hundred "contrabands," men, women, and children, of all ages. What
was their legal status, and how should they be disposed of? It was a
knotty problem, for upon its solution might depend the sensitive public
opinion and balancing, undecided loyalty and political action of the
border slave States of Maryland, West Virginia, Kentucky, and Missouri.
In solving the problem, President Lincoln kept in mind the philosophic
maxim of one of his favorite stories, that when the Western Methodist
presiding elder, riding about the circuit during the spring freshets,
was importuned by his young companion how they should ever be able to
get across the swollen waters of Fox River, which they were approaching,
the elder quieted him by saying he had made it the rule of his life
never to cross Fox River till he came to it.

The President did not immediately decide, but left it to be treated as a
question of camp and local police, in the discretion of each commander.
Under this theory, later in the war, some commanders excluded, others
admitted such fugitives to their camps; and the curt formula of General
Orders, "We have nothing to do with slaves. We are neither negro
stealers nor negro catchers," was easily construed by subordinate
officers to justify the practice of either course. _Inter arma silent
leges_. For the present, Butler was instructed not to surrender such
fugitives, but to employ them in suitable labor, and leave the question
of their final disposition for future determination. Congress greatly
advanced the problem, soon after the battle of Bull Run, by adopting an
amendment which confiscated a rebel master's right to his slave when, by
his consent, such slave was employed in service or labor hostile to the
United States. The debates exhibited but little spirit of partizanship,
even on this feature of the slavery question. The border State members
did not attack the justice of such a penalty. They could only urge that
it was unconstitutional and inexpedient. On the general policy of the
war, both houses, with but few dissenting votes, passed the resolution,
offered by Mr. Crittenden, which declared that the war was not waged for
oppression or subjugation, or to interfere with the rights or
institutions of States, "but to defend and maintain the supremacy of the
Constitution, and to preserve the Union with all the dignity, equality,
and rights of the several States unimpaired." The special session
adjourned on August 6, having in a single month completed and enacted a
thorough and comprehensive system of war legislation.

The military events that were transpiring in the meanwhile doubtless had
their effect in hastening the decision and shortening the labors of
Congress. To command the thirteen regiments of militia furnished by the
State of Ohio, Governor Dennison had given a commission of major-general
to George B. McClellan, who had been educated at West Point and served
with distinction in the Mexican War, and who, through unusual
opportunities in travel and special duties in surveys and exploration,
had gained acquirements and qualifications that appeared to fit him for
a brilliant career. Being but thirty-five years old, and having reached
only the grade of captain, he had resigned from the army, and was at the
moment serving as president of the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad.
General Scott warmly welcomed his appointment to lead the Ohio
contingent, and so industriously facilitated his promotion that by the
beginning of June McClellan's militia commission as major-general had
been changed to a commission for the same grade in the regular army, and
he found himself assigned to the command of a military department
extending from Western Virginia to Missouri. Though this was a leap in
military title, rank, and power which excels the inventions of romance,
it was necessitated by the sudden exigencies of army expansion over the
vast territory bordering the insurrection, and for a while seemed
justified by the hopeful promise indicated in the young officer's zeal
and activity.

His instructions made it a part of his duty to encourage and support the
Unionists of Western Virginia in their political movement to divide the
State and erect a Union commonwealth out of that portion of it lying
northwest of the Alleghanies. General Lee, not fully informed of the
adverse popular sentiment, sent a few Confederate regiments into that
region to gather recruits and hold the important mountain passes.
McClellan, in turn, advanced a detachment eastward from Wheeling, to
protect the Baltimore and Ohio railroad; and at the beginning of June,
an expedition of two regiments, led by Colonel Kelly, made a spirited
dash upon Philippi, where, by a complete surprise, he routed and
scattered Porterfield's recruiting detachment of one thousand
Confederates. Following up this initial success, McClellan threw
additional forces across the Ohio, and about a month later had the good
fortune, on July 11, by a flank movement under Rosecrans, to drive a
regiment of the enemy out of strong intrenchments on Rich Mountain,
force the surrender of the retreating garrison on the following day,
July 12, and to win a third success on the thirteenth over another
flying detachment at Carrick's Ford, one of the crossings of the Cheat
River, where the Confederate General Garnett was killed in a
skirmish-fire between sharp-shooters.

These incidents, happening on three successive days, and in distance
forty miles apart, made a handsome showing for the young department
commander when gathered into the single, short telegram in which he
reported to Washington that Garnett was killed, his force routed, at
least two hundred of the enemy killed, and seven guns and one thousand
prisoners taken. "Our success is complete, and secession is killed in
this country," concluded the despatch. The result, indeed, largely
overshadowed in importance the means which accomplished it. The Union
loss was only thirteen killed and forty wounded. In subsequent effect,
these two comparatively insignificant skirmishes permanently recovered
the State of West Virginia to the Union. The main credit was, of course,
due to the steadfast loyalty of the people of that region.

This victory afforded welcome relief to the strained and impatient
public opinion of the Northern States, and sharpened the eager
expectation of the authorities at Washington of similar results from
the projected Virginia campaign. The organization and command of that
column were intrusted to Brigadier-General McDowell, advanced to this
grade from his previous rank of major. He was forty-two years old, an
accomplished West Point graduate, and had won distinction in the Mexican
War, though since that time he had been mainly engaged in staff duty. On
the morning of July 16, he began his advance from the fortifications of
Washington, with a marching column of about twenty-eight thousand men
and a total of forty-nine guns, an additional division of about six
thousand being left behind to guard his communications. Owing to the
rawness of his troops, the first few days' march was necessarily
cautious and cumbersome.

The enemy, under Beauregard, had collected about twenty-three thousand
men and thirty-five guns, and was posted behind Bull Run. A preliminary
engagement occurred on Thursday, July 18, at Blackburn's Ford on that
stream, which served to develop the enemy's strong position, but only
delayed the advance until the whole of McDowell's force reached
Centreville Here McDowell halted, spent Friday and Saturday in
reconnoitering, and on Sunday, July 21, began the battle by a circuitous
march across Bull Run and attacking the enemy's left flank.

It proved that the plan was correctly chosen, but, by a confusion in the
march, the attack, intended for day-break, was delayed until nine
o'clock. Nevertheless, the first half of the battle, during the
forenoon, was entirely successful, the Union lines steadily driving the
enemy southward, and enabling additional Union brigades to join the
attacking column by a direct march from Centreville.

At noon, however, the attack came to a halt, partly through the fatigue
of the troops, partly because the advancing line, having swept the field
for nearly a mile, found itself in a valley, from which further progress
had to be made with all the advantage of the ground in favor of the
enemy. In the lull of the conflict which for a while ensued, the
Confederate commander, with little hope except to mitigate a defeat,
hurriedly concentrated his remaining artillery and supporting regiments
into a semicircular line of defense at the top of the hill that the
Federals would be obliged to mount, and kept them well concealed among
the young pines at the edge of the timber, with an open field in their
front.

Against this second position of the enemy, comprising twelve regiments,
twenty-two guns, and two companies of cavalry, McDowell advanced in the
afternoon with an attacking force of fourteen regiments, twenty-four
guns, and a single battalion of cavalry, but with all the advantages of
position against him. A fluctuating and intermitting attack resulted.
The nature of the ground rendered a combined advance impossible. The
Union brigades were sent forward and repulsed by piecemeal. A battery
was lost by mistaking a Confederate for a Union regiment. Even now the
victory seemed to vibrate, when a new flank attack by seven rebel
regiments, from an entirely unexpected direction, suddenly impressed the
Union troops with the belief that Johnston's army from Harper's Ferry
had reached the battle-field; and, demoralized by this belief, the Union
commands, by a common impulse, gave up the fight as lost, and half
marched, half ran from the field. Before reaching Centreville, the
retreat at one point degenerated into a downright panic among army
teamsters and a considerable crowd of miscellaneous camp-followers; and
here a charge or two by the Confederate cavalry companies captured
thirteen Union guns and quite a harvest of army wagons.

When the truth came to be known, it was found that through the want of
skill and courage on the part of General Patterson in his operations at
Harper's Ferry, General Johnston, with his whole Confederate army, had
been allowed to slip away; and so far from coming suddenly into the
battle of Bull Run, the bulk of them were already in Beauregard's camps
on Saturday, and performed the heaviest part of the fighting in Sunday's
conflict.

The sudden cessation of the battle left the Confederates in doubt
whether their victory was final, or only a prelude to a fresh Union
attack. But as the Union forces not only retreated from the field, but
also from Centreville, it took on, in their eyes, the proportions of a
great triumph; confirming their expectation of achieving ultimate
independence, and, in fact, giving them a standing in the eyes of
foreign nations which they had hardly dared hope for so soon. In numbers
of killed and wounded, the two armies suffered about equally; and
General Johnston writes: "The Confederate army was more disorganized by
victory than that of the United States by defeat." Manassas was turned
into a fortified camp, but the rebel leaders felt themselves unable to
make an aggressive movement during the whole of the following autumn and
winter.

The shock of the defeat was deep and painful to the administration and
the people of the North. Up to late Sunday afternoon favorable reports
had come to Washington from the battle-field, and every one believed in
an assured victory. When a telegram came about five o'clock in the
afternoon, that the day was lost, and McDowell's army in full retreat
through Centreville, General Scott refused to credit the news, so
contradictory of everything which had been heard up to that hour. But
the intelligence was quickly confirmed. The impulse of retreat once
started, McDowell's effort to arrest it at Centreville proved useless.
The regiments and brigades not completely disorganized made an
unmolested and comparatively orderly march back to the fortifications of
Washington, while on the following day a horde of stragglers found their
way across the bridges of the Potomac into the city.

President Lincoln received the news quietly and without any visible sign
of perturbation or excitement; but he remained awake and in the
executive office all of Sunday night, listening to the personal
narratives of a number of congressmen and senators who had, with undue
curiosity, followed the army and witnessed some of the sounds and sights
of the battle. By the dawn of Monday morning the President had
substantially made up his judgment of the battle and its probable
results, and the action dictated by the untoward event. This was, in
brief, that the militia regiments enlisted under the three months' call
should be mustered out as soon as practicable; the organization of the
new three years' forces be pushed forward both east and west; Manassas
and Harper's Ferry and the intermediate lines of communication be seized
and held; and a joint movement organized from Cincinnati on East
Tennessee, and from Cairo on Memphis.

Meanwhile, General McClellan was ordered from West Virginia to
Washington, where he arrived on July 26, and assumed command of the
Division of the Potomac, comprising the troops in and around Washington
on both sides of the river. He quickly cleared the city of stragglers,
and displayed a gratifying activity in beginning the organization of the
Army of the Potomac from the new three years' volunteers that were
pouring into Washington by every train. He was received by the
administration and the army with the warmest friendliness and
confidence, and for awhile seemed to reciprocate these feelings with
zeal and gratitude.




XVII

General Scott's Plans--Criticized as the "Anaconda"--The Three Fields of
Conflict--Frémont Appointed Major-General--His Military Failures--Battle
of Wilson's Creek--Hunter Ordered to Frémont--Frémont's
Proclamation--President Revokes Frémont's Proclamation--Lincoln's Letter
to Browning--Surrender of Lexington--Frémont Takes the Field--Cameron's
Visit to Frémont--Frémont's Removal


The military genius and experience of General Scott, from the first,
pretty correctly divined the grand outline of military operations which
would become necessary in reducing the revolted Southern States to
renewed allegiance. Long before the battle of Bull Run was planned, he
urged that the first seventy-five regiments of three months' militia
could not be relied on for extensive campaigns, because their term of
service would expire before they could be well organized. His outline
suggestion, therefore, was that the new three years' volunteer army be
placed in ten or fifteen healthy camps and given at least four months of
drill and tactical instruction; and when the navy had, by a rigid
blockade, closed all the harbors along the seaboard of the Southern
States, the fully prepared army should, by invincible columns, move down
the Mississippi River to New Orleans, leaving a strong cordon of
military posts behind it to keep open the stream, join hands with the
blockade, and thus envelop the principal area of rebellion in a
powerful military grasp which would paralyze and effectually kill the
insurrection. Even while suggesting this plan, however, the general
admitted that the great obstacle to its adoption would be the impatience
of the patriotic and loyal Union people and leaders, who would refuse to
wait the necessary length of time.

The general was correct in his apprehension. The newspapers criticized
his plan in caustic editorials and ridiculous cartoons as "Scott's
Anaconda," and public opinion rejected it in an overwhelming demand for
a prompt and energetic advance. Scott was correct in military theory,
while the people and the administration were right in practice, under
existing political conditions. Although Bull Run seemed to justify the
general, West Virginia and Missouri vindicated the President and the
people.

It can now be seen that still a third element--geography--intervened to
give shape and sequence to the main outlines of the Civil War. When, at
the beginning of May, General Scott gave his advice, the seat of
government of the first seven Confederate States was still at
Montgomery, Alabama. By the adhesion of the four interior border States
to the insurrection, and the removal of the archives and administration
of Jefferson Davis to Richmond, Virginia, toward the end of June, as the
capital of the now eleven Confederate States, Washington necessarily
became the center of Union attack, and Richmond the center of
Confederate defense. From the day when McDowell began his march to Bull
Run, to that when Lee evacuated Richmond in his final hopeless flight,
the route between these two opposing capitals remained the principal and
dominating line of military operations, and the region between
Chesapeake Bay and the Potomac River on the east, and the chain of the
Alleghanies on the west, the primary field of strategy.

According to geographical features, the second great field of strategy
lay between the Alleghany Mountains and the Mississippi River, and the
third between the Mississippi River, the Rocky Mountains, and the Rio
Grande. Except in Western Virginia, the attitude of neutrality assumed
by Kentucky for a considerable time delayed the definition of the
military frontier and the beginning of active hostilities in the second
field, thus giving greater momentary importance to conditions existing
and events transpiring in Missouri, with the city of St. Louis as the
principal center of the third great military field.

The same necessity which dictated the promotion of General McClellan at
one bound from captain to major-general compelled a similar phenomenal
promotion, not alone of officers of the regular army, but also of
eminent civilians to high command and military responsibility in the
immense volunteer force authorized by Congress. Events, rather than
original purpose, had brought McClellan into prominence and ranking
duty; but now, by design, the President gave John C. Frémont a
commission of major-general, and placed him in command of the third
great military field, with headquarters at St. Louis, with the leading
idea that he should organize the military strength of the Northwest,
first, to hold Missouri to the Union, and, second, by a carefully
prepared military expedition open the Mississippi River. By so doing, he
would sever the Confederate States, reclaim or conquer the region lying
west of the great stream, and thus reduce by more than one half the
territorial area of the insurrection. Though he had been an army
lieutenant, he had no experience in active war; yet the talent and
energy he had displayed in Western military exploration, and the
political prominence he had reached as candidate of the Republican party
for President in 1856, seemed to fit him preëminently for such a duty.

While most of the volunteers from New England and the Middle States were
concentrated at Washington and dependent points, the bulk of the Western
regiments was, for the time being, put under the command of Frémont for
present and prospective duty. But the high hopes which the
administration placed in the general were not realized. The genius which
could lead a few dozen or a few hundred Indian scouts and mountain
trappers over desert plains and through the fastnesses of the Sierra
Nevada, that could defy savage hostilities and outlive starvation amid
imprisoning snows, failed signally before the task of animating and
combining the patriotic enthusiasm of eight or ten great northwestern
States, and organizing and leading an army of one hundred thousand eager
volunteers in a comprehensive and decisive campaign to recover a great
national highway. From the first, Frémont failed in promptness, in
foresight, in intelligent supervision and, above all, in inspiring
confidence and attracting assistance and devotion. His military
administration created serious extravagance and confusion, and his
personal intercourse excited the distrust and resentment of the
governors and civilian officials, whose counsel and coöperation were
essential to his usefulness and success.

While his resources were limited, and while he fortified St. Louis and
reinforced Cairo, a yet more important point needed his attention and
help. Lyon, who had followed Governor Jackson and General Price in their
flight from Boonville to Springfield in southern Missouri, found his
forces diminished beyond his expectation by the expiration of the term
of service of his three months' regiments, and began to be threatened by
a northward concentration of Confederate detachments from the Arkansas
line and the Indian Territory. The neglect of his appeals for help
placed him in the situation where he could neither safely remain
inactive, nor safely retreat. He therefore took the chances of
scattering the enemy before him by a sudden, daring attack with his five
thousand effectives, against nearly treble numbers, in the battle of
Wilson's Creek, at daylight on August 10. The casualties on the two
sides were nearly equal, and the enemy was checked and crippled; but the
Union army sustained a fatal loss in the death of General Lyon, who was
instantly killed while leading a desperate bayonet charge. His skill and
activity had, so far, been the strength of the Union cause in Missouri.
The absence of his counsel and personal example rendered a retreat to
the railroad terminus at Rolla necessary. This discouraging event turned
public criticism sharply upon Frémont. Loath to yield to mere public
clamor, and averse to hasty changes in military command, Mr. Lincoln
sought to improve the situation by sending General David Hunter to take
a place on Frémont's staff.

"General Frémont needs assistance," said his note to Hunter, "which it
is difficult to give him. He is losing the confidence of men near him,
whose support any man in his position must have to be successful. His
cardinal mistake is that he isolates himself, and allows nobody to see
him; and by which he does not know what is going on in the very matter
he is dealing with. He needs to have by his side a man of large
experience. Will you not, for me, take that place? Your rank is one
grade too high to be ordered to it; but will you not serve the country
and oblige me by taking it voluntarily?"

This note indicates, better than pages of description, the kind,
helpful, and forbearing spirit with which the President, through the
long four years' war, treated his military commanders and subordinates;
and which, in several instances, met such ungenerous return. But even
while Mr. Lincoln was attempting to smooth this difficulty, Frémont had
already burdened him with two additional embarrassments. One was a
perplexing personal quarrel the general had begun with the influential
Blair family, represented by Colonel Frank Blair, the indefatigable
Unionist leader in Missouri, and Montgomery Blair, the
postmaster-general in Lincoln's cabinet, who had hitherto been Frémont's
most influential friends and supporters; and, in addition, the father of
these, Francis P. Blair, Sr., a veteran politician whose influence dated
from Jackson's administration, and through whose assistance Frémont had
been nominated as presidential candidate in 1856.

The other embarrassment was of a more serious and far-reaching nature.
Conscious that he was losing the esteem and confidence of both civil and
military leaders in the West, Frémont's adventurous fancy caught at the
idea of rehabilitating himself before the public by a bold political
manoeuver. Day by day the relation of slavery to the Civil War was
becoming a more troublesome question, and exciting impatient and angry
discussion. Without previous consultation with the President or any of
his advisers or friends, Frémont, on August 30, wrote and printed, as
commander of the Department of the West, a proclamation establishing
martial law throughout the State of Missouri, and announcing that:

"All persons who shall be taken with arms in their hands within these
lines shall be tried by court-martial, and if found guilty will be shot.
The property, real and personal, of all persons in the State of
Missouri who shall take up arms against the United States, or who shall
be directly proven to have taken an active part with their enemies in
the field, is declared to be confiscated to the public use; and their
slaves, if any they have, are hereby declared freemen."

The reason given in the proclamation for this drastic and dictatorial
measure was to suppress disorder, maintain the public peace, and protect
persons and property of loyal citizens--all simple police duties. For
issuing his proclamation without consultation with the President, he
could offer only the flimsy excuse that it involved two days of time to
communicate with Washington, while he well knew that no battle was
pending and no invasion in progress. This reckless misuse of power
President Lincoln also corrected with his dispassionate prudence and
habitual courtesy. He immediately wrote to the general:

"MY DEAR SIR: Two points in your proclamation of August 30 give me some
anxiety:

"_First_. Should you shoot a man, according to the proclamation, the
Confederates would very certainly shoot our best men in their hands, in
retaliation; and so, man for man, indefinitely. It is, therefore, my
order that you allow no man to be shot under the proclamation, without
first having my approbation or consent.

"_Second_. I think there is great danger that the closing paragraph, in
relation to the confiscation of property and the liberating slaves of
traitorous owners, will alarm our Southern Union friends and turn them
against us; perhaps ruin our rather fair prospect for Kentucky. Allow
me, therefore, to ask that you will, as of your own motion, modify that
paragraph so as to conform to the first and fourth sections of the act
of Congress entitled, 'An act to confiscate property used for
insurrectionary purposes,' approved August 6, 1861, and a copy of which
act I herewith send you.

"This letter is written in a spirit of caution, and not of censure. I
send it by a special messenger, in order that it may certainly and
speedily reach you."

But the headstrong general was too blind and selfish to accept this mild
redress of a fault that would have justified instant displacement from
command. He preferred that the President should openly direct him to
make the correction. Admitting that he decided in one night upon the
measure, he added: "If I were to retract it of my own accord, it would
imply that I myself thought it wrong, and that I had acted without the
reflection which the gravity of the point demanded." The inference is
plain that Frémont was unwilling to lose the influence of his hasty step
upon public opinion. But by this course he deliberately placed himself
in an attitude of political hostility to the administration.

The incident produced something of the agitation which the general had
evidently counted upon. Radical antislavery men throughout the free
States applauded his act and condemned the President, and military
emancipation at once became a subject of excited discussion. Even strong
conservatives were carried away by the feeling that rebels would be but
properly punished by the loss of their slaves. To Senator Browning, the
President's intimate personal friend, who entertained this feeling, Mr.
Lincoln wrote a searching analysis of Frémont's proclamation and its
dangers:

"Yours of the seventeenth is just received; and, coming from you, I
confess it astonishes me. That you should object to my adhering to a law
which you had assisted in making and presenting to me, less than a month
before, is odd enough. But this is a very small part. General Frémont's
proclamation as to confiscation of property and the liberation of slaves
is purely political, and not within the range of military law or
necessity. If a commanding general finds a necessity to seize the farm
of a private owner, for a pasture, an encampment, or a fortification, he
has the right to do so, and to so hold it as long as the necessity
lasts; and this is within military law, because within military
necessity. But to say the farm shall no longer belong to the owner or
his heirs forever, and this as well when the farm is not needed for
military purposes as when it is, is purely political, without the savor
of military law about it. And the same is true of slaves. If the general
needs them he can seize them and use them, but when the need is past, it
is not for him to fix their permanent future condition. That must be
settled according to laws made by law-makers, and not by military
proclamations. The proclamation in the point in question is simply
'dictatorship.' It assumes that the general may do anything he
pleases--confiscate the lands and free the slaves of loyal people, as
well as of disloyal ones. And going the whole figure, I have no doubt,
would be more popular, with some thoughtless people, than that which has
been done! But I cannot assume this reckless position, nor allow others
to assume it on my responsibility.

"You speak of it as being the only means of saving the government. On
the contrary, it is itself the surrender of the government. Can it be
pretended that it is any longer the government of the United States--any
government of constitution and laws--wherein a general or a president
may make permanent rules of property by proclamation? I do not say
Congress might not, with propriety, pass a law on the point, just such
as General Frémont proclaimed. I do not say I might not, as a member of
Congress, vote for it. What I object to is, that I, as President, shall
expressly or impliedly seize and exercize the permanent legislative
functions of the government.

"So much as to principle. Now as to policy. No doubt the thing was
popular in some quarters, and would have been more so if it had been a
general declaration of emancipation. The Kentucky legislature would not
budge till that proclamation was modified; and General Anderson
telegraphed me that on the news of General Frémont having actually
issued deeds of manumission, a whole company of our volunteers threw
down their arms and disbanded. I was so assured as to think it probable
that the very arms we had furnished Kentucky would be turned against us.
I think to lose Kentucky is nearly the same as to lose the whole game.
Kentucky gone, we cannot hold Missouri, nor, as I think, Maryland. These
all against us, and the job on our hands is too large for us. We would
as well consent to separation at once, including the surrender of this
capital."

If it be objected that the President himself decreed military
emancipation a year later, then it must be remembered that Frémont's
proclamation differed in many essential particulars from the President's
edict of January 1, 1863. By that time, also, the entirely changed
conditions justified a complete change of policy; but, above all, the
supreme reason of military necessity, upon which alone Mr. Lincoln based
the constitutionality of his edict of freedom, was entirely wanting in
the case of Frémont.

The harvest of popularity which Frémont evidently hoped to secure by his
proclamation was soon blighted by a new military disaster. The
Confederate forces which had been united in the battle of Wilson's Creek
quickly became disorganized through the disagreement of their leaders
and the want of provisions and other military supplies, and mainly
returned to Arkansas and the Indian Territory, whence they had come. But
General Price, with his Missouri contingent, gradually increased his
followers, and as the Union retreat from Springfield to Rolla left the
way open, began a northward march through the western part of the State
to attack Colonel Mulligan, who, with about twenty-eight hundred Federal
troops, intrenched himself at Lexington on the Missouri River. Secession
sympathy was strong along the line of his march, and Price gained
adherents so rapidly that on September 18 he was able to invest
Mulligan's position with a somewhat irregular army numbering about
twenty thousand. After a two days' siege, the garrison was compelled to
surrender, through the exhaustion of the supply of water in their
cisterns. The victory won, Price again immediately retreated southward,
losing his army almost as fast as he had collected it, made up, as it
was, more in the spirit and quality of a sudden border foray than an
organized campaign.

For this new loss, Frémont was subjected to a shower of fierce
criticism, which this time he sought to disarm by ostentatious
announcements of immediate activity. "I am taking the field myself," he
telegraphed, "and hope to destroy the enemy either before or after the
junction of forces under McCulloch." Four days after the surrender, the
St. Louis newspapers printed his order organizing an army of five
divisions. The document made a respectable show of force on paper,
claiming an aggregate of nearly thirty-nine thousand. In reality,
however, being scattered and totally unprepared for the field, it
possessed no such effective strength. For a month longer extravagant
newspaper reports stimulated the public with the hope of substantial
results from Frémont's intended campaign. Before the end of that time,
however, President Lincoln, under growing apprehension, sent Secretary
of War Cameron and the adjutant-general of the army to Missouri to make
a personal investigation. Reaching Frémont's camp on October 13, they
found the movement to be a mere forced, spasmodic display, without
substantial strength, transportation, or coherent and feasible plan; and
that at least two of the division commanders were without means to
execute the orders they had received, and utterly without confidence in
their leader, or knowledge of his intentions.

To give Frémont yet another chance, the Secretary of War withheld the
President's order to relieve the general from command, which he had
brought with him, on Frémont's insistence that a victory was really
within his reach. When this hope also proved delusive, and suspicion was
aroused that the general might be intending not only to deceive, but to
defy the administration, President Lincoln sent the following letter by
a special friend to General Curtis, commanding at St. Louis:

"DEAR SIR: On receipt of this, with the accompanying inclosures, you
will take safe, certain, and suitable measures to have the inclosure
addressed to Major-General Frémont delivered to him with all reasonable
dispatch, subject to these conditions only, that if, when General
Frémont shall be reached by the messenger--yourself, or any one sent by
you--he shall then have, in personal command, fought and won a battle,
or shall then be actually in a battle, or shall then be in the immediate
presence of the enemy in expectation of a battle, it is not to be
delivered, but held for further orders. After, and not till after, the
delivery to General Frémont, let the inclosure addressed to General
Hunter be delivered to him."

The order of removal was delivered to Frémont on November 2. By that
date he had reached Springfield, but had won no victory, fought no
battle, and was not in the presence of the enemy. Two of his divisions
were not yet even with him. Still laboring under the delusion, perhaps
imposed on him by his scouts, his orders stated that the enemy was only
a day's march distant, and advancing to attack him. The inclosure
mentioned in the President's letter to Curtis was an order to General
David Hunter to relieve Frémont. When he arrived and assumed command the
scouts he sent forward found no enemy within reach, and no such
contingency of battle or hope of victory as had been rumored and
assumed.

Frémont's personal conduct in these disagreeable circumstances was
entirely commendable. He took leave of the army in a short farewell
order, couched in terms of perfect obedience to authority and courtesy
to his successor, asking for him the same cordial support he had himself
received. Nor did he by word or act justify the suspicions of
insubordination for which some of his indiscreet adherents had given
cause. Under the instructions President Lincoln had outlined in his
order to Hunter, that general gave up the idea of indefinitely pursuing
Price, and divided the army into two corps of observation, which were
drawn back and posted, for the time being, at the two railroad termini
of Rolla and Sedalia, to be recruited and prepared for further service.




XVIII

Blockade--Hatteras Inlet--Port Royal Captured--The Trent
Affair--Lincoln Suggests Arbitration--Seward's Despatch--McClellan at
Washington--Army of the Potomac--McClellan's Quarrel with
Scott--Retirement of Scott--Lincoln's Memorandum--"All Quiet on the
Potomac"--Conditions in Kentucky--Cameron's Visit to Sherman--East
Tennessee--Instructions to Buell--Buell's Neglect--Halleck in Missouri


Following the fall of Fort Sumter, the navy of the United States was in
no condition to enforce the blockade from Chesapeake Bay to the Rio
Grande declared by Lincoln's proclamation of April 19. Of the forty-two
vessels then in commission nearly all were on foreign stations. Another
serious cause of weakness was that within a few days after the Sumter
attack one hundred and twenty-four officers of the navy resigned, or
were dismissed for disloyalty, and the number of such was doubled before
the fourth of July. Yet by the strenuous efforts of the department in
fitting out ships that had been laid up, in completing those under
construction, and in extensive purchases and arming of all classes of
vessels that could be put to use, from screw and side-wheel merchant
steamers to ferry-boats and tugs, a legally effective blockade was
established within a period of six months. A considerable number of new
war-ships was also immediately placed under construction. The special
session of Congress created a commission to study the subject of
ironclads, and on its recommendation three experimental vessels of this
class were placed under contract. One of these, completed early in the
following year, rendered a momentous service, hereafter to be mentioned,
and completely revolutionized naval warfare.

Meanwhile, as rapidly as vessels could be gathered and prepared, the
Navy Department organized effective expeditions to operate against
points on the Atlantic coast. On August 29 a small fleet, under command
of Flag Officer Stringham, took possession of Hatteras Inlet, after
silencing the forts the insurgents had erected to guard the entrance,
and captured twenty-five guns and seven hundred prisoners. This success,
achieved without the loss of a man to the Union fleet, was of great
importance, opening, as it did, the way for a succession of victories in
the interior waters of North Carolina early in the following year.

A more formidable expedition, and still greater success soon followed.
Early in November, Captain Du-Pont assembled a fleet of fifty sail,
including transports, before Port Royal Sound. Forming a column of nine
war-ships with a total of one hundred and twelve guns, the line steamed
by the mid-channel between Fort Beauregard to the right, and Fort Walker
to the left, the first of twenty and the second of twenty-three guns,
each ship delivering its fire as it passed the forts. Turning at the
proper point, they again gave broadside after broadside while steaming
out, and so repeated their circular movement. The battle was decided
when, on the third round, the forts failed to respond to the fire of the
ships. When Commander Rodgers carried and planted the Stars and Stripes
on the ramparts, he found them utterly deserted, everything having been
abandoned by the flying garrisons. Further reconnaissance proved that
the panic extended itself over the whole network of sea islands between
Charleston and Savannah, permitting the immediate occupation of the
entire region, and affording a military base for both the navy and the
army of incalculable advantage in the further reduction of the coast.

Another naval exploit, however, almost at the same time, absorbed
greater public attention, and for a while created an intense degree of
excitement and suspense. Ex-Senators J.M. Mason and John Slidell, having
been accredited by the Confederate government as envoys to European
courts, had managed to elude the blockade and reach Havana. Captain
Charles Wilkes, commanding the _San Jacinto_, learning that they were to
take passage for England on the British mail steamer _Trent_,
intercepted that vessel on November 8 near the coast of Cuba, took the
rebel emissaries prisoner by the usual show of force, and brought them
to the United States, but allowed the _Trent_ to proceed on her voyage.
The incident and alleged insult produced as great excitement in England
as in the United States, and the British government began instant and
significant preparations for war for what it hastily assumed to be a
violation of international law and an outrage on the British flag.
Instructions were sent to Lord Lyons, the British minister at
Washington, to demand the release of the prisoners and a suitable
apology; and, if this demand were not complied with within a single
week, to close his legation and return to England.

In the Northern States the capture was greeted with great jubilation.
Captain Wilkes was applauded by the press; his act was officially
approved by the Secretary of the Navy, and the House of Representatives
unanimously passed a resolution thanking him for his "brave, adroit, and
patriotic conduct." While the President and cabinet shared the first
impulses of rejoicing, second thoughts impressed them with the grave
nature of the international question involved, and the serious dilemma
of disavowal or war precipitated by the imperative British demand. It
was fortunate that Secretary Seward and Lord Lyons were close personal
friends, and still more that though British public opinion had strongly
favored the rebellion, the Queen of England entertained the kindliest
feelings for the American government. Under her direction, Prince Albert
instructed the British cabinet to formulate and present the demand in
the most courteous diplomatic language, while, on their part, the
American President and cabinet discussed the affair in a temper of
judicious reserve.

President Lincoln's first desire was to refer the difficulty to friendly
arbitration, and his mood is admirably expressed in the autograph
experimental draft of a despatch suggesting this course.

"The President is unwilling to believe," he wrote, "that her Majesty's
government will press for a categorical answer upon what appears to him
to be only a partial record, in the making up of which he has been
allowed no part. He is reluctant to volunteer his view of the case, with
no assurance that her Majesty's government will consent to hear him; yet
this much he directs me to say, that this government has intended no
affront to the British flag, or to the British nation; nor has it
intended to force into discussion an embarrassing question; all which is
evident by the fact hereby asserted, that the act complained of was done
by the officer without orders from, or expectation of, the government.
But, being done, it was no longer left to us to consider whether we
might not, to avoid a controversy, waive an unimportant though a strict
right; because we, too, as well as Great Britain, have a people justly
jealous of their rights, and in whose presence our government could undo
the act complained of only upon a fair showing that it was wrong, or at
least very questionable. The United States government and people are
still willing to make reparation upon such showing.

"Accordingly, I am instructed by the President to inquire whether her
Majesty's government will hear the United States upon the matter in
question. The President desires, among other things, to bring into view,
and have considered, the existing rebellion in the United States; the
position Great Britain has assumed, including her Majesty's proclamation
in relation thereto; the relation the persons whose seizure is the
subject of complaint bore to the United States, and the object of their
voyage at the time they were seized; the knowledge which the master of
the _Trent_ had of their relation to the United States, and of the
object of their voyage, at the time he received them on board for the
voyage; the place of the seizure; and the precedents and respective
positions assumed in analogous cases between Great Britain and the
United States.

"Upon a submission containing the foregoing facts, with those set forth
in the before-mentioned despatch to your lordship, together with all
other facts which either party may deem material, I am instructed to say
the government of the United States will, if agreed to by her Majesty's
government, go to such friendly arbitration as is usual among nations,
and will abide the award."

The most practised diplomatic pen in Europe could not have written a
more dignified, courteous, or succinct presentation of the case; and
yet, under the necessities of the moment, it was impossible to adopt
this procedure. Upon full discussion, it was decided that war with Great
Britain must be avoided, and Mr. Seward wrote a despatch defending the
course of Captain Wilkes up to the point where he permitted the _Trent_
to proceed on her voyage. It was his further duty to have brought her
before a prize court. Failing in this, he had left the capture
incomplete under rules of international law, and the American government
had thereby lost the right and the legal evidence to establish the
contraband character of the vessel and the persons seized. Under the
circumstances, the prisoners were therefore willingly released. Excited
American feeling was grievously disappointed at the result; but American
good sense readily accommodated itself both to the correctness of the
law expounded by the Secretary of State, and to the public policy that
averted a great international danger; particularly as this decision
forced Great Britain to depart from her own and to adopt the American
traditions respecting this class of neutral rights.

It has already been told how Captain George B. McClellan was suddenly
raised in rank, at the very outset of the war, first to a
major-generalship in the three months' militia, then to the command of
the military department of the Ohio; from that to a major-generalship in
the regular army; and after his successful campaign in West Virginia was
called to Washington and placed in command of the Division of the
Potomac, which comprised all the troops in and around Washington, on
both sides of the river. Called thus to the capital of the nation to
guard it against the results of the disastrous battle of Bull Run, and
to organize a new army for extended offensive operations, the
surrounding conditions naturally suggested to him that in all
likelihood he would play a conspicuous part in the great drama of the
Civil War. His ambition rose eagerly to the prospect. On the day on
which he assumed command, July 27, he wrote to his wife:

"I find myself in a new and strange position here; President, cabinet,
General Scott, and all, deferring to me. By some strange operation of
magic I seem to have become the power of the land."

And three days later:

"They give me my way in everything, full swing and unbounded
confidence.... Who would have thought, when we were married, that I
should so soon be called upon to save my country?"

And still a few days afterward:

"I shall carry this thing _en grande_, and crush the rebels in one
campaign."

From the giddy elevation to which such an imaginary achievement raised
his dreams, there was but one higher step, and his colossal egotism
immediately mounted to occupy it. On August 9, just two weeks after his
arrival in Washington, he wrote:

"I would cheerfully take the dictatorship and agree to lay down my life
when the country is saved;" while in the same letter he adds, with the
most naïve unconsciousness of his hallucination: "I am not spoiled by my
unexpected new position."

Coming to the national capital in the hour of deepest public depression
over the Bull Run defeat, McClellan was welcomed by the President, the
cabinet, and General Scott with sincere friendship, by Congress with a
hopeful eagerness, by the people with enthusiasm, and by Washington
society with adulation. Externally he seemed to justify such a greeting.
He was young, handsome, accomplished, genial and winning in conversation
and manner. He at once manifested great industry and quick decision,
and speedily exhibited a degree of ability in army organization which
was not equaled by any officer during the Civil War. Under his eye the
stream of the new three years' regiments pouring into the city went to
their camps, fell into brigades and divisions, were supplied with
equipments, horses, and batteries, and underwent the routine of drill,
tactics, and reviews, which, without the least apparent noise or
friction, in three months made the Army of the Potomac a perfect
fighting machine of over one hundred and fifty thousand men and more
than two hundred guns.

Recognizing his ability in this work, the government had indeed given
him its full confidence, and permitted him to exercise almost unbounded
authority; which he fully utilized in favoring his personal friends, and
drawing to himself the best resources of the whole country in arms,
supplies, and officers of education and experience. For a while his
outward demeanor indicated respect and gratitude for the promotion and
liberal favors bestowed upon him. But his phenomenal rise was fatal to
his usefulness. The dream that he was to be the sole savior of his
country, announced confidentially to his wife just two weeks after his
arrival in Washington, never again left him so long as he continued in
command. Coupled with this dazzling vision, however, was soon developed
the tormenting twofold hallucination: first, that everybody was
conspiring to thwart him; and, second, that the enemy had from double to
quadruple numbers to defeat him.

For the first month he could not sleep for the nightmare that
Beauregard's demoralized army had by a sudden bound from Manassas seized
the city of Washington. He immediately began a quarrel with General
Scott, which, by the first of November, drove the old hero into
retirement and out of his pathway. The cabinet members who, wittingly or
unwittingly, had encouraged him in this he some weeks later stigmatized
as a set of geese. Seeing that President Lincoln was kind and unassuming
in discussing military questions, McClellan quickly contracted the habit
of expressing contempt for him in his confidential letters; and the
feeling rapidly grew until it reached a mark of open disrespect. The
same trait manifested itself in his making exclusive confidants of only
two or three of his subordinate generals, and ignoring the counsel of
all the others; and when, later on, Congress appointed a standing
committee of leading senators and representatives to examine into the
conduct of the war, he placed himself in a similar attitude respecting
their inquiry and advice.

McClellan's activity and judgment as an army organizer naturally created
great hopes that he would be equally efficient as a commander in the
field. But these hopes were grievously disappointed. To his first great
defect of estimating himself as the sole savior of the country, must at
once be added the second, of his utter inability to form any reasonable
judgment of the strength of the enemy in his front. On September 8, when
the Confederate army at Manassas numbered forty-one thousand, he rated
it at one hundred and thirty thousand. By the end of October that
estimate had risen to one hundred and fifty thousand, to meet which he
asked that his own force should be raised to an aggregate of two hundred
and forty thousand, with a total of effectives of two hundred and eight
thousand, and four hundred and eighty-eight guns. He suggested that to
gather this force all other points should be left on the defensive; that
the Army of the Potomac held the fate of the country in its hands; that
the advance should not be postponed beyond November 25; and that a
single will should direct the plan of accomplishing a crushing defeat of
the rebel army at Manassas.

On the first of November the President, yielding at last to General
Scott's urgent solicitation, issued the orders placing him on the
retired list, and in his stead appointing General McClellan to the
command of all the armies. The administration indulged the expectation
that at last "The Young Napoleon," as the newspapers often called him,
would take advantage of the fine autumn weather, and, by a bold move
with his single will and his immense force, outnumbering the enemy
nearly four to one, would redeem his promise to crush the army at
Manassas and "save the country." But the November days came and went, as
the October days had come and gone. McClellan and his brilliant staff
galloped unceasingly from camp to camp, and review followed review,
while autumn imperceptibly gave place to the cold and storms of winter;
and still there was no sign of forward movement.

Under his own growing impatience, as well as that of the public, the
President, about the first of December, inquired pointedly, in a
memorandum suggesting a plan of campaign, how long it would require to
actually get in motion. McClellan answered: "By December 15,--probably
25"; and put aside the President's suggestion by explaining: "I have now
my mind actively turned toward another plan of campaign that I do not
think at all anticipated by the enemy, nor by many of our own people."

December 25 came, as November 25 had come, and still there was no plan,
no preparation, no movement. Then McClellan fell seriously ill. By a
spontaneous and most natural impulse, the soldiers of the various camps
began the erection of huts to shelter them from snow and storm. In a few
weeks the Army of the Potomac was practically, if not by order, in
winter quarters; and day after day the monotonous telegraphic phrase
"All quiet on the Potomac" was read from Northern newspapers in Northern
homes, until by mere iteration it degenerated from an expression of deep
disappointment to a note of sarcastic criticism.

While so unsatisfactory a condition of affairs existed in the first
great military field east of the Alleghanies, the outlook was quite as
unpromising both in the second--between the Alleghanies and the
Mississippi--and in the third--west of the Mississippi. When the
Confederates, about September 1, 1861, invaded Kentucky, they stationed
General Pillow at the strongly fortified town of Columbus on the
Mississippi River, with about six thousand men; General Buckner at
Bowling Green, on the railroad north of Nashville, with five thousand;
and General Zollicoffer, with six regiments, in eastern Kentucky,
fronting Cumberland Gap. Up to that time there were no Union troops in
Kentucky, except a few regiments of Home Guards. Now, however, the State
legislature called for active help; and General Anderson, exercising
nominal command from Cincinnati, sent Brigadier-General Sherman to
Nashville to confront Buckner, and Brigadier-General Thomas to Camp Dick
Robinson, to confront Zollicoffer.

Neither side was as yet in a condition of force and preparation to take
the aggressive. When, a month later, Anderson, on account of ill health
turned over the command to Sherman, the latter had gathered only about
eighteen thousand men, and was greatly discouraged by the task of
defending three hundred miles of frontier with that small force. In an
interview with Secretary of War Cameron, who called upon him on his
return from Frémont's camp, about the middle of October, he strongly
urged that he needed for immediate defense sixty thousand, and for
ultimate offense "two hundred thousand before we were done." "Great
God!" exclaimed Cameron, "where are they to come from?" Both Sherman's
demand and Cameron's answer were a pertinent comment on McClellan's
policy of collecting the whole military strength of the country at
Washington to fight the one great battle for which he could never get
ready.

Sherman was so distressed by the seeming magnitude of his burden that he
soon asked to be relieved; and when Brigadier-General Buell was sent to
succeed him in command of that part of Kentucky lying east of the
Cumberland River, it was the expectation of the President that he would
devote his main attention and energy to the accomplishment of a specific
object which Mr. Lincoln had very much at heart.

Ever since the days in June, when President Lincoln had presided over
the council of war which discussed and decided upon the Bull Run
campaign, he had devoted every spare moment of his time to the study of
such military books and leading principles of the art of war as would
aid him in solving questions that must necessarily come to himself for
final decision. His acute perceptions, retentive memory, and unusual
power of logic enabled him to make rapid progress in the acquisition of
the fixed and accepted rules on which military writers agree. In this,
as in other sciences, the main difficulty, of course, lies in applying
fixed theories to variable conditions. When, however, we remember that
at the outbreak of hostilities all the great commanders of the Civil War
had experience only as captains and lieutenants, it is not strange that
in speculative military problems the President's mature reasoning powers
should have gained almost as rapidly by observation and criticism as
theirs by practice and experiment. The mastery he attained of the
difficult art, and how intuitively correct was his grasp of military
situations, has been attested since in the enthusiastic admiration of
brilliant technical students, amply fitted by training and intellect to
express an opinion, whose comment does not fall short of declaring Mr.
Lincoln "the ablest strategist of the war."

The President had early discerned what must become the dominating and
decisive lines of advance in gaining and holding military control of the
Southern States. Only two days after the battle of Bull Run, he had
written a memorandum suggesting three principal objects for the army
when reorganized: First, to gather a force to menace Richmond; second, a
movement from Cincinnati upon Cumberland Gap and East Tennessee; third,
an expedition from Cairo against Memphis. In his eyes, the second of
these objectives never lost its importance; and it was in fact
substantially adopted by indirection and by necessity in the closing
periods of the war. The eastern third of the State of Tennessee remained
from the first stubbornly and devotedly loyal to the Union. At an
election on June 8, 1861, the people of twenty-nine counties, by more
than two to one, voted against joining the Confederacy; and the most
rigorous military repression by the orders of Jefferson Davis and
Governor Harris was necessary to prevent a general uprising against the
rebellion.

The sympathy of the President, even more than that of the whole North,
went out warmly to these unfortunate Tennesseeans, and he desired to
convert their mountain fastnesses into an impregnable patriotic
stronghold. Had his advice been followed, it would have completely
severed railroad communication, by way of the Shenandoah valley,
Knoxville, and Chattanooga, between Virginia and the Gulf States,
accomplishing in the winter of 1861 what was not attained until two
years later. Mr. Lincoln urged this in a second memorandum, made late in
September; and seeing that the principal objection to it lay in the long
and difficult line of land transportation, his message to Congress of
December 3, 1861, recommended, as a military measure, the construction
of a railroad to connect Cincinnati, by way of Lexington, Kentucky, with
that mountain region.

A few days after the message, he personally went to the President's room
in the Capitol building, and calling around him a number of leading
senators and representatives, and pointing out on a map before them the
East Tennessee region, said to them in substance:

I am thoroughly convinced that the closing struggle of the war will
occur somewhere in this mountain country. By our superior numbers and
strength we will everywhere drive the rebel armies back from the level
districts lying along the coast, from those lying south of the Ohio
River, and from those lying east of the Mississippi River. Yielding to
our superior force, they will gradually retreat to the more defensible
mountain districts, and make their final stand in that part of the South
where the seven States of Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina,
Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, and West Virginia come together. The
population there is overwhelmingly and devotedly loyal to the Union. The
despatches from Brigadier-General Thomas of October 28 and November 5
show that, with four additional good regiments, he is willing to
undertake the campaign and is confident he can take immediate
possession. Once established, the people will rally to his support, and
by building a railroad, over which to forward him regular supplies and
needed reinforcements from time to time, we can hold it against all
attempts to dislodge us, and at the same time menace the enemy in any
one of the States I have named.

While his hearers listened with interest, it was evident that their
minds were still full of the prospect of a great battle in Virginia, the
capture of Richmond, and an early suppression of the rebellion. Railroad
building appeared to them altogether too slow an operation of war. To
show how sagacious was the President's advice, we may anticipate by
recalling that in the following summer General Buell spent as much time,
money, and military strength in his attempted march from Corinth to East
Tennessee as would have amply sufficed to build the line from Lexington
to Knoxville recommended by Mr. Lincoln--the general's effort resulting
only in his being driven back to Louisville; that in 1863, Burnside,
under greater difficulties, made the march and successfully held
Knoxville, even without a railroad, which Thomas with a few regiments
could have accomplished in 1861; and that in the final collapse of the
rebellion, in the spring of 1865, the beaten armies of both Johnston and
Lee attempted to retreat for a last stand to this same mountain region
which Mr. Lincoln pointed out in December, 1861.

Though the President received no encouragement from senators and
representatives in his plan to take possession of East Tennessee, that
object was specially enjoined in the instructions to General Buell when
he was sent to command in Kentucky.

"It so happens that a large majority of the inhabitants of eastern
Tennessee are in favor of the Union; it therefore seems proper that you
should remain on the defensive on the line from Louisville to Nashville,
while you throw the mass of your forces by rapid marches by Cumberland
Gap or Walker's Gap on Knoxville, in order to occupy the railroad at
that point, and thus enable the loyal citizens of eastern Tennessee to
rise, while you at the same time cut off the railway communication
between eastern Virginia and the Mississippi."

Three times within the same month McClellan repeated this injunction to
Buell with additional emphasis. Senator Andrew Johnson and
Representative Horace Maynard telegraphed him from Washington:

"Our people are oppressed and pursued as beasts of the forest; the
government must come to their relief."

Buell replied, keeping the word of promise to the ear, but, with his
ambition fixed on a different campaign, gradually but doggedly broke it
to the hope. When, a month later, he acknowledged that his preparations
and intent were to move against Nashville, the President wrote him:

"Of the two, I would rather have a point on the railroad south of
Cumberland Gap than Nashville. _First_, because it cuts a great artery
of the enemy's communication which Nashville does not; and, _secondly_,
because it is in the midst of loyal people, who would rally around it,
while Nashville is not.... But my distress is that our friends in East
Tennessee are being hanged and driven to despair, and even now, I fear,
are thinking of taking rebel arms for the sake of personal protection.
In this we lose the most valuable stake we have in the South."

McClellan's comment amounted to a severe censure, and this was quickly
followed by an almost positive command to "advance on eastern Tennessee
at once." Again Buell promised compliance, only, however, again to
report in a few weeks his conviction "that an advance into East
Tennessee is impracticable at this time on any scale which would be
sufficient." It is difficult to speculate upon the advantages lost by
this unwillingness of a commander to obey instructions. To say nothing
of the strategical value of East Tennessee to the Union, the fidelity of
its people is shown in the reports sent to the Confederate government
that "the whole country is now in a state of rebellion"; that "civil war
has broken out in East Tennessee"; and that "they look for the
reëstablishment of the Federal authority in the South with as much
confidence as the Jews look for the coming of the Messiah."

Henry W. Halleck, born in 1815, graduated from West Point in 1839, who,
after distinguished service in the Mexican war, had been brevetted
captain of Engineers, but soon afterward resigned from the army to
pursue the practice of law in San Francisco, was, perhaps, the best
professionally equipped officer among the number of those called by
General Scott in the summer of 1861 to assume important command in the
Union army. It is probable that Scott intended he should succeed himself
as general-in-chief; but when he reached Washington the autumn was
already late, and because of Frémont's conspicuous failure it seemed
necessary to send Halleck to the Department of the Missouri, which, as
reconstituted, was made to include, in addition to several northwestern
States, Missouri and Arkansas, and so much of Kentucky as lay west of
the Cumberland River. This change of department lines indicates the
beginning of what soon became a dominant feature of military operations;
namely, that instead of the vast regions lying west of the Mississippi,
the great river itself, and the country lying immediately adjacent to
it on either side, became the third principal field of strategy and
action, under the necessity of opening and holding it as a great
military and commercial highway.

While the intention of the government to open the Mississippi River by a
powerful expedition received additional emphasis through Halleck's
appointment, that general found no immediate means adequate to the task
when he assumed command at St. Louis. Frémont's régime had left the
whole department in the most deplorable confusion. Halleck reported that
he had no army, but, rather, a military rabble to command and for some
weeks devoted himself with energy and success to bringing order out of
the chaos left him by his predecessor. A large element of his difficulty
lay in the fact that the population of the whole State was tainted with
disloyalty to a degree which rendered Missouri less a factor in the
larger questions of general army operations, than from the beginning to
the end of the war a local district of bitter and relentless factional
hatred and guerrilla or, as the term was constantly employed,
"bushwhacking" warfare, intensified and kept alive by annual roving
Confederate incursions from Arkansas and the Indian Territory in
desultory summer campaigns.




XIX

Lincoln Directs Coöperation--Halleck and Buell--Ulysses S.
Grant--Grant's Demonstration--Victory at Mill River--Fort Henry--Fort
Donelson--Buell's Tardiness--Halleck's Activity--Victory of Pea
Ridge--Halleck Receives General Command--Pittsburg Landing--Island No.
10--Halleck's Corinth Campaign--Halleck's Mistakes


Toward the end of December, 1861, the prospects of the administration
became very gloomy. McClellan had indeed organized a formidable army at
Washington, but it had done nothing to efface the memory of the Bull Run
defeat. On the contrary, a practical blockade of the Potomac by rebel
batteries on the Virginia shore, and another small but irritating defeat
at Ball's Bluff, greatly heightened public impatience. The necessary
surrender of Mason and Slidell to England was exceedingly unpalatable.
Government expenditures had risen to $2,000,000 a day, and a financial
crisis was imminent. Buell would not move into East Tennessee, and
Halleck seemed powerless in Missouri. Added to this, McClellan's illness
completed a stagnation of military affairs both east and west. Congress
was clamoring for results, and its joint Committee on the Conduct of the
War was pushing a searching inquiry into the causes of previous defeats.

To remove this inertia, President Lincoln directed specific questions to
the Western commanders. "Are General Buell and yourself in concert?" he
telegraphed Halleck on December 31. And next day he wrote:

"I am very anxious that, in case of General Buell's moving toward
Nashville, the enemy shall not be greatly reinforced, and I think there
is danger he will be from Columbus. It seems to me that a real or
feigned attack on Columbus from up-river at the same time would either
prevent this, or compensate for it by throwing Columbus into our hands."

Similar questions also went to Buell, and their replies showed that no
concert, arrangement, or plans existed, and that Halleck was not ready
to coöperate. The correspondence started by the President's inquiry for
the first time clearly brought out an estimate of the Confederate
strength opposed to a southward movement in the West. Since the
Confederate invasion of Kentucky on September 4, the rebels had so
strongly fortified Columbus on the Mississippi River that it came to be
called the "Gibraltar of the West," and now had a garrison of twenty
thousand to hold it; while General Buckner was supposed to have a force
of forty thousand at Bowling Green on the railroad between Louisville
and Nashville. For more than a month Buell and Halleck had been aware
that a joint river and land expedition southward up the Tennessee or the
Cumberland River, which would outflank both positions and cause their
evacuation, was practicable with but little opposition. Yet neither
Buell nor Halleck had exchanged a word about it, or made the slightest
preparation to begin it; each being busy in his own field, and with his
own plans. Even now, when the President had started the subject, Halleck
replied that it would be bad strategy for himself to move against
Columbus, or Buell against Bowling Green; but he had nothing to say
about a Tennessee River expedition, or coöperation with Buell to effect
it, except by indirectly complaining that to withdraw troops from
Missouri would risk the loss of that State.

The President, however, was no longer satisfied with indecision and
excuses, and telegraphed to Buell on January 7:

"Please name as early a day as you safely can on or before which you can
be ready to move southward in concert with Major-General Halleck. Delay
is ruining us, and it is indispensable for me to have something
definite. I send a like despatch to Major-General Halleck."

To this Buell made no direct reply, while Halleck answered that he had
asked Buell to designate a date for a demonstration, and explained two
days later: "I can make, with the gunboats and available troops, a
pretty formidable demonstration, but no real attack." In point of fact,
Halleck had on the previous day, January 6, written to Brigadier-General
U.S. Grant: "I wish you to make a demonstration in force": and he added
full details, to which Grant responded on January 8: "Your instructions
of the sixth were received this morning, and immediate preparations made
for carrying them out"; also adding details on his part.

Ulysses S. Grant was born on April 27, 1822, was graduated from West
Point in 1843, and brevetted captain for gallant conduct in the Mexican
War; but resigned from the army and was engaged with his father in a
leather store at Galena, Illinois, when the Civil War broke out.
Employed by the governor of Illinois a few weeks at Springfield to
assist in organizing militia regiments under the President's first call,
Grant wrote a letter to the War Department at Washington tendering his
services, and saying: "I feel myself competent to command a regiment, if
the President in his judgment should see fit to intrust one to me." For
some reason, never explained, this letter remained unanswered, though
the department was then and afterward in constant need of educated and
experienced officers. A few weeks later, however, Governor Yates
commissioned him colonel of one of the Illinois three years' regiments.
From that time until the end of 1861, Grant, by constant and specially
meritorious service, rose in rank to brigadier-general and to the
command of the important post of Cairo, Illinois, having meanwhile, on
November 7, won the battle of Belmont on the Missouri shore opposite
Columbus.

The "demonstration'" ordered by Halleck was probably intended only as a
passing show of activity; but it was executed by Grant, though under
strict orders to "avoid a battle," with a degree of promptness and
earnestness that drew after it momentous consequences. He pushed a
strong reconnaissance by eight thousand men within a mile or two of
Columbus, and sent three gunboats up the Tennessee River, which drew the
fire of Fort Henry. The results of the combined expedition convinced
Grant that a real movement in that direction was practicable, and he
hastened to St. Louis to lay his plan personally before Halleck. At
first that general would scarcely listen to it; but, returning to Cairo,
Grant urged it again and again, and the rapidly changing military
conditions soon caused Halleck to realize its importance.

Within a few days, several items of interesting information reached
Halleck: that General Thomas, in eastern Kentucky, had won a victory
over the rebel General Zollicoffer, capturing his fortified camp on
Cumberland River, annihilating his army of over ten regiments, and fully
exposing Cumberland Gap; that the Confederates were about to throw
strong reinforcements into Columbus; that seven formidable Union
ironclad river gunboats were ready for service; and that a rise of
fourteen feet had taken place in the Tennessee River, greatly weakening
the rebel batteries on that stream and the Cumberland. The advantages on
the one hand, and the dangers on the other, which these reports
indicated, moved Halleck to a sudden decision. When Grant, on January
28, telegraphed him: "With permission, I will take Fort Henry on the
Tennessee, and establish and hold a large camp there," Halleck responded
on the thirtieth: "Make your preparations to take and hold Fort Henry."

It would appear that Grant's preparations were already quite complete
when he received written instructions by mail on February 1, for on the
next day he started fifteen thousand men on transports, and on February
4 himself followed with seven gunboats under command of Commodore Foote.
Two days later, Grant had the satisfaction of sending a double message
in return: "Fort Henry is ours.... I shall take and destroy Fort
Donelson on the eighth."

Fort Henry had been an easy victory. The rebel commander, convinced that
he could not defend the place, had early that morning sent away his
garrison of three thousand on a retreat to Fort Donelson, and simply
held out during a two hours' bombardment until they could escape
capture. To take Fort Donelson was a more serious enterprise. That
stronghold, lying twelve miles away on the Cumberland River, was a much
larger work, with a garrison of six thousand, and armed with seventeen
heavy and forty-eight field guns. If Grant could have marched
immediately to an attack of the combined garrisons, there would have
been a chance of quick success. But the high water presented
unlooked-for obstacles, and nearly a week elapsed before his army began
stretching itself cautiously around the three miles of Donelson's
intrenchments. During this delay, the conditions became greatly changed.
When the Confederate General Albert Sidney Johnston received news that
Fort Henry had fallen, he held a council at Bowling Green with his
subordinate generals Hardee and Beauregard, and seeing that the Union
success would, if not immediately counteracted, render both Nashville
and Columbus untenable, resolved, to use his own language, "To defend
Nashville at Donelson."

An immediate retreat was begun from Bowling Green to Nashville, and
heavy reinforcements were ordered to the garrison of Fort Donelson. It
happened, therefore, that when Grant was ready to begin his assault the
Confederate garrison with its reinforcements outnumbered his entire
army. To increase the discouragement, the attack by gunboats on the
Cumberland River on the afternoon of February 14 was repulsed, seriously
damaging two of them, and a heavy sortie from the fort threw the right
of Grant's investing line into disorder. Fortunately, General Halleck at
St. Louis strained all his energies to send reinforcements, and these
arrived in time to restore Grant's advantage in numbers.

Serious disagreement among the Confederate commanders also hastened the
fall of the place. On February 16, General Buckner, to whom the senior
officers had turned over the command, proposed an armistice, and the
appointment of commissioners to agree on terms of capitulation. To this
Grant responded with a characteristic spirit of determination: "No terms
except unconditional and immediate surrender can be accepted. I propose
to move immediately upon your works." Buckner complained that the terms
were ungenerous and unchivalric, but that necessity compelled him to
accept them; and Grant telegraphed Halleck on February 16: "We have
taken Fort Donelson, and from twelve to fifteen thousand prisoners." The
senior Confederate generals, Pillow and Floyd, and a portion of the
garrison had escaped by the Cumberland River during the preceding night.

Since the fall of Fort Henry on February 6, a lively correspondence had
been going on, in which General Halleck besought Buell to come with his
available forces, assist in capturing Donelson, and command the column
up the Cumberland to cut off both Columbus and Nashville. President
Lincoln, scanning the news with intense solicitude, and losing no
opportunity to urge effective coöperation, telegraphed Halleck:

"You have Fort Donelson safe, unless Grant shall be overwhelmed from
outside: to prevent which latter will, I think, require all the
vigilance, energy, and skill of yourself and Buell, acting in full
coöperation. Columbus will not get at Grant, but the force from Bowling
Green will. They hold the railroad from Bowling Green to within a few
miles of Fort Donelson, with the bridge at Clarksville undisturbed. It
is unsafe to rely that they will not dare to expose Nashville to Buell.
A small part of their force can retire slowly toward Nashville, breaking
up the railroad as they go, and keep Buell out of that city twenty days.
Meantime, Nashville will be abundantly defended by forces from all south
and perhaps from here at Manassas. Could not a cavalry force from
General Thomas on the upper Cumberland dash across, almost unresisted,
and cut the railroad at or near Knoxville, Tennessee? In the midst of a
bombardment at Fort Donelson, why could not a gunboat run up and destroy
the bridge at Clarksville? Our success or failure at Fort Donelson is
vastly important, and I beg you to put your soul in the effort. I send a
copy of this to Buell."

This telegram abundantly shows with what minute understanding and
accurate judgment the President comprehended military conditions and
results in the West. Buell, however, was too intent upon his own
separate movement to seize the brilliant opportunity offered him. As he
only in a feeble advance followed up the retreating Confederate column
from Bowling Green to Nashville, Halleck naturally appropriated to
himself the merit of the campaign, and telegraphed to Washington on the
day after the surrender:

"Make Buell, Grant, and Pope major-generals of volunteers, and give me
command in the West. I ask this in return for Forts Henry and Donelson."

The eagerness of General Halleck for superior command in the West was,
to say the least, very pardonable. A vast horizon of possibilities was
opening up to his view. Two other campaigns under his direction were
exciting his liveliest hopes. Late in December he had collected an army
of ten thousand at the railroad terminus at Rolla, Missouri, under
command of Brigadier-General Curtis, for the purpose of scattering the
rebel forces under General Price at Springfield or driving them out of
the State. Despite the hard winter weather, Halleck urged on the
movement with almost peremptory orders, and Curtis executed the
intentions of his chief with such alacrity that Price was forced into a
rapid and damaging retreat from Springfield toward Arkansas. While
forcing this enterprise in the southwest, Halleck had also determined on
an important campaign in southeast Missouri.

Next to Columbus, which the enemy evacuated on March 2, the strongest
Confederate fortifications on the Mississippi River were at Island No.
10, about forty miles farther to the south. To operate against these, he
planned an expedition under Brigadier-General Pope to capture the town
of New Madrid as a preliminary step. Columbus and Nashville were almost
sure to fall as the result of Donelson. If now he could bring his two
Missouri campaigns into a combination with two swift and strong
Tennessee expeditions, while the enemy was in scattered retreat, he
could look forward to the speedy capture of Memphis. But to the
realization of such a project, the hesitation and slowness of Buell were
a serious hindrance. That general had indeed started a division under
Nelson to Grant's assistance, but it was not yet in the Cumberland when
Donelson surrendered. Halleck's demand for enlarged power, therefore,
became almost imperative. He pleaded earnestly with Buell:

"I have asked the President to make you a major-general. Come down to
the Cumberland and take command. The battle of the West is to be fought
in that vicinity.... There will be no battle at Nashville." His
telegrams to McClellan were more urgent. "Give it [the Western Division]
to me, and I will split secession in twain in one month." And again: "I
must have command of the armies in the West. Hesitation and delay are
losing us the golden opportunity. Lay this before the President and
Secretary of War. May I assume the command? Answer quickly."

But McClellan was in no mood to sacrifice the ambition of his intimate
friend and favorite, General Buell, and induced the President to
withhold his consent; and while the generals were debating by telegraph,
Nelson's division of the army of Buell moved up the Cumberland and
occupied Nashville under the orders of Grant. Halleck, however, held
tenaciously to his views and requests, explaining to McClellan that he
himself proposed going to Tennessee:

"That is now the great strategic line of the western campaign, and I am
surprised that General Buell should hesitate to reinforce me. He was too
late at Fort Donelson.... Believe me, General, you make a serious
mistake in having three independent commands in the West. There never
will and never can be any coöperation at the critical moment; all
military history proves it."

This insistence had greater point because of the news received that
Curtis, energetically following Price into Arkansas, had won a great
Union victory at Pea Ridge, between March 5 and 8, over the united
forces of Price and McCulloch, commanded by Van Dorn. At this juncture,
events at Washington, hereafter to be mentioned, caused a reorganization
of military commands and President Lincoln's Special War Order No. 3
consolidated the western departments of Hunter, Halleck, and Buell, as
far east as Knoxville, Tennessee, under the title of the Department of
the Mississippi, and placed General Halleck in command of the whole.
Meanwhile, Halleck had ordered the victorious Union army at Fort
Donelson to move forward to Savannah on the Tennessee River under the
command of Grant; and, now that he had superior command, directed Buell
to march all of his forces not required to defend Nashville "as rapidly
as possible" to the same point. Halleck was still at St. Louis; and
through the indecision of his further orders, through the slowness of
Buell's march, and through the unexplained inattention of Grant, the
Union armies narrowly escaped a serious disaster, which, however, the
determined courage of the troops and subordinate officers turned into a
most important victory.

The "golden opportunity" so earnestly pointed out by Halleck, while not
entirely lost, was nevertheless seriously diminished by the hesitation
and delay of the Union commanders to agree upon some plan of effective
coöperation. When, at the fall of Fort Donelson the Confederates
retreated from Nashville toward Chattanooga, and from Columbus toward
Jackson, a swift advance by the Tennessee River could have kept them
separated; but as that open highway was not promptly followed in force,
the flying Confederate detachments found abundant leisure to form a
junction.

Grant reached Savannah, on the east bank of the Tennessee River, about
the middle of March, and in a few days began massing troops at Pittsburg
Landing, six miles farther south, on the west bank of the Tennessee;
still keeping his headquarters at Savannah, to await the arrival of
Buell and his army. During the next two weeks he reported several times
that the enemy was concentrating at Corinth, Mississippi, an important
railroad crossing twenty miles from Pittsburg Landing, the estimate of
their number varying from forty to eighty thousand. All this time his
mind was so filled with an eager intention to begin a march upon
Corinth, and a confidence that he could win a victory by a prompt
attack, that he neglected the essential precaution of providing against
an attack by the enemy, which at the same time was occupying the
thoughts of the Confederate commander General Johnston.

General Grant was therefore greatly surprised on the morning of April 6,
when he proceeded from Savannah to Pittsburg Landing, to learn the cause
of a fierce cannonade. He found that the Confederate army, forty
thousand strong, was making an unexpected and determined attack in force
on the Union camp, whose five divisions numbered a total of about
thirty-three thousand. The Union generals had made no provision against
such an attack. No intrenchments had been thrown up, no plan or
understanding arranged. A few preliminary picket skirmishes had, indeed,
put the Union front on the alert, but the commanders of brigades and
regiments were not prepared for the impetuous rush with which the three
successive Confederate lines began the main battle. On their part, the
enemy did not realize their hope of effecting a complete surprise, and
the nature of the ground was so characterized by a network of local
roads, alternating patches of woods and open fields, miry hollows and
abrupt ravines, that the lines of conflict were quickly broken into
short, disjointed movements that admitted of little or no combined or
systematic direction. The effort of the Union officers was necessarily
limited to a continuous resistance to the advance of the enemy, from
whatever direction it came; that of the Confederate leaders to the
general purpose of forcing the Union lines away from Pittsburg Landing
so that they might destroy the Federal transports and thus cut off all
means of retreat. In this effort, although during the whole of Sunday,
April 6, the Union front had been forced back a mile and a half, the
enemy had not entirely succeeded. About sunset, General Beauregard, who,
by the death of General Johnston during the afternoon, succeeded to the
Confederate command, gave orders to suspend the attack, in the firm
expectation however, that he would be able to complete his victory the
next morning.

But in this hope he was disappointed. During the day the vanguard of
Buell's army had arrived on the opposite bank of the river. Before
nightfall one of his brigades was ferried across and deployed in front
of the exultant enemy. During the night and early Monday morning three
superb divisions of Buell's army, about twenty thousand fresh,
well-drilled troops, were advanced to the front under Buell's own
direction; and by three o'clock of that day the two wings of the Union
army were once more in possession of all the ground that had been lost
on the previous day, while the foiled and disorganized Confederates were
in full retreat upon Corinth. The severity of the battle may be judged
by the losses. In the Union army: killed, 1754; wounded, 8408; missing,
2885. In the Confederate army: killed, 1728; wounded, 8012; missing.
954.

Having comprehended the uncertainty of Buell's successful junction with
Grant, Halleck must have received tidings of the final victory at
Pittsburg Landing with emotions of deep satisfaction. To this was now
joined the further gratifying news that the enemy on that same momentous
April 7 had surrendered Island No. 10, together with six or seven
thousand Confederate troops, including three general officers, to the
combined operations of General Pope and Flag-Officer Foote. Full
particulars of these two important victories did not reach Halleck for
several days. Following previous suggestions, Pope and Foote promptly
moved their gunboats and troops down the river to the next Confederate
stronghold, Fort Pillow, where extensive fortifications, aided by an
overflow of the adjacent river banks, indicated strong resistance and
considerable delay. When all the conditions became more fully known,
Halleck at length adopted the resolution, to which he had been strongly
leaning for some time, to take the field himself. About April 10 he
proceeded from St. Louis to Pittsburg Landing, and on the fifteenth
ordered Pope with his army to join him there, which the latter, having
his troops already on transports succeeded in accomplishing by April 22.
Halleck immediately effected a new organization, combining the armies
of the Tennessee, of the Ohio, and of the Mississippi into respectively
his right wing, center, and left wing. He assumed command of the whole
himself, and nominally made Grant second in command. Practically,
however, he left Grant so little authority or work that the latter felt
himself slighted, and asked leave to proceed to another field of duty.

It required but a few weeks to demonstrate that however high were
Halleck's professional acquirements in other respects, he was totally
unfit for a commander in the field. Grant had undoubtedly been careless
in not providing against the enemy's attack at Pittsburg Landing.
Halleck, on the other extreme, was now doubly over-cautious in his march
upon Corinth. From first to last, his campaign resembled a siege. With
over one hundred thousand men under his hand, he moved at a snail's
pace, building roads and breastworks, and consuming more than a month in
advancing a distance of twenty miles; during which period Beauregard
managed to collect about fifty thousand effective Confederates and
construct defensive fortifications with equal industry around Corinth.
When, on May 29, Halleck was within assaulting distance of the rebel
intrenchments Beauregard had leisurely removed his sick and wounded,
destroyed or carried away his stores, and that night finally evacuated
the place, leaving Halleck to reap, practically, a barren victory.

Nor were the general's plans and actions any more fruitful during the
following six weeks. He wasted the time and energy of his soldiers
multiplying useless fortifications about Corinth. He despatched Buell's
wing of the army on a march toward eastern Tennessee but under such
instructions and limitations that long before reaching its objective it
was met by a Confederate army under General Bragg, and forced into a
retrograde movement which carried it back to Louisville. More
deplorable, however, than either of these errors of judgment was
Halleck's neglect to seize the opportune moment when, by a vigorous
movement in coöperation with the brilliant naval victories under
Flag-Officer Farragut, commanding a formidable fleet of Union war-ships,
he might have completed the over-shadowing military task of opening the
Mississippi River.




XX

The Blockade--Hatteras Inlet--Roanoke Island--Fort Pulaski--Merrimac
and Monitor--The Cumberland Sunk--The Congress Burned--Battle of the
Ironclads--Flag-officer Farragut--Forts Jackson and St. Philip--New
Orleans Captured--Farragut at Vicksburg--Farragut's Second Expedition to
Vicksburg--Return to New Orleans


In addition to its heavy work of maintaining the Atlantic blockade, the
navy of the United States contributed signally toward the suppression of
the rebellion by three brilliant victories which it gained during the
first half of the year 1862. After careful preparation during several
months, a joint expedition under the command of General Ambrose E.
Burnside and Flag-Officer Goldsborough, consisting of more than twelve
thousand men and twenty ships of war, accompanied by numerous
transports, sailed from Fort Monroe on January 11, with the object of
occupying the interior waters of the North Carolina coast. Before the
larger vessels could effect their entrance through Hatteras Inlet,
captured in the previous August, a furious storm set in, which delayed
the expedition nearly a month. By February 7, however, that and other
serious difficulties were overcome, and on the following day the
expedition captured Roanoke Island, and thus completely opened the whole
interior water-system of Albemarle and Pamlico sounds to the easy
approach of the Union fleet and forces.

From Roanoke Island as a base, minor expeditions within a short period
effected the destruction of the not very formidable fleet which the
enemy had been able to organize, and the reduction of Fort Macon and the
rebel defenses of Elizabeth City, New Berne, and other smaller places.
An eventual advance upon Goldsboro' formed part of the original plan;
but, before it could be executed, circumstances intervened effectually
to thwart that object.

While the gradual occupation of the North Carolina coast was going on,
two other expeditions of a similar nature were making steady progress.
One of them, under the direction of General Quincy A. Gillmore, carried
on a remarkable siege operation against Fort Pulaski, standing on an
isolated sea marsh at the mouth of the Savannah River. Here not only the
difficulties of approach, but the apparently insurmountable obstacle of
making the soft, unctuous mud sustain heavy batteries, was overcome, and
the fort compelled to surrender on April 11, after an effective
bombardment. The second was an expedition of nineteen ships, which,
within a few days during the month of March, without serious resistance,
occupied the whole remaining Atlantic coast southward as far as St.
Augustine.

When, at the outbreak of the rebellion, the navy-yard at Norfolk,
Virginia, had to be abandoned to the enemy, the destruction at that time
attempted by Commodore Paulding remained very incomplete. Among the
vessels set on fire, the screw-frigate _Merrimac_, which had been
scuttled, was burned only to the water's edge, leaving her hull and
machinery entirely uninjured. In due time she was raised by the
Confederates, covered with a sloping roof of railroad iron, provided
with a huge wedge-shaped prow of cast iron, and armed with a formidable
battery of ten guns. Secret information came to the Navy Department of
the progress of this work, and such a possibility was kept in mind by
the board of officers that decided upon the construction of the three
experimental ironclads in September, 1861.

The particular one of these three especially intended for this peculiar
emergency was a ship of entirely novel design, made by the celebrated
inventor John Ericsson, a Swede by birth, but American by adoption--a
man who combined great original genius with long scientific study and
experience. His invention may be most quickly described as having a
small, very low hull, covered by a much longer and wider flat deck only
a foot or two above the water-line, upon which was placed a revolving
iron turret twenty feet in diameter, nine feet high, and eight inches
thick, on the inside of which were two eleven-inch guns trained side by
side and revolving with the turret. This unique naval structure was
promptly nicknamed "a cheese-box on a raft," and the designation was not
at all inapt. Naval experts at once recognized that her sea-going
qualities were bad; but compensation was thought to exist in the belief
that her iron turret would resist shot and shell, and that the thin edge
of her flat deck would offer only a minimum mark to an enemy's guns: in
other words, that she was no cruiser, but would prove a formidable
floating battery; and this belief she abundantly justified.

The test of her fighting qualities was attended by what almost suggested
a miraculous coincidence. On Saturday, March 8, 1862, about noon, a
strange-looking craft resembling a huge turtle was seen coming into
Hampton Roads out of the mouth of Elizabeth River, and it quickly became
certain that this was the much talked of rebel ironclad _Merrimac_, or,
as the Confederates had renamed her, the _Virginia_. She steamed
rapidly toward Newport News, three miles to the southwest, where the
Union ships _Congress_ and _Cumberland_ lay at anchor. These saw the
uncouth monster coming and prepared for action. The _Minnesota_, the
_St. Lawrence_, and the _Roanoke_, lying at Fortress Monroe also saw her
and gave chase, but, the water being low, they all soon grounded. The
broadsides of the _Congress_, as the _Merrimac_ passed her at three
hundred yards' distance, seemed to produce absolutely no effect upon her
sloping iron roof. Neither did the broadsides of her intended prey, nor
the fire of the shore batteries, for even an instant arrest her speed
as, rushing on, she struck the _Cumberland_, and with her iron prow
broke a hole as large as a hogshead in her side. Then backing away and
hovering over her victim at convenient distance, she raked her decks
with shot and shell until, after three quarters of an hour's combat, the
_Cumberland_ and her heroic defenders, who had maintained the fight with
unyielding stubbornness, went to the bottom in fifty feet of water with
colors flying.

Having sunk the _Cumberland_, the _Merrimac_ next turned her attention
to the _Congress_, which had meanwhile run into shoal water and grounded
where the rebel vessel could not follow. But the _Merrimac_, being
herself apparently proof against shot and shell by her iron plating,
took up a raking position two cables' length away, and during an hour's
firing deliberately reduced the _Congress_ to helplessness and to
surrender--her commander being killed and the vessel set on fire. The
approach, the manoeuvering, and the two successive combats consumed the
afternoon, and toward nightfall the _Merrimac_ and her three small
consorts that had taken little part in the action withdrew to the rebel
batteries on the Virginia shore: not alone because of the approaching
darkness and the fatigue of the crew, but because the rebel ship had
really suffered considerable damage in ramming the _Cumberland_, as well
as from one or two chance shots that entered her port-holes.

That same night, while the burning _Congress_ yet lighted up the waters
of Hampton Roads, a little ship, as strange-looking and as new to marine
warfare as the rebel turtleback herself, arrived by sea in tow from New
York, and receiving orders to proceed at once to the scene of conflict,
stationed herself near the grounded _Minnesota_. This was Ericsson's
"cheese-box on a raft," named by him the _Monitor_. The Union officers
who had witnessed the day's events with dismay, and were filled with
gloomy forebodings for the morrow, while welcoming this providential
reinforcement, were by no means reassured. The _Monitor_ was only half
the size of her antagonist, and had only two guns to the other's ten.
But this very disparity proved an essential advantage. With only ten
feet draft to the _Merrimac's_ twenty-two, she not only possessed
superior mobility, but might run where the _Merrimac_ could not follow.
When, therefore, at eight o'clock on Sunday, March 9, the _Merrimac_
again came into Hampton Roads to complete her victory, Lieutenant John
L. Worden, commanding the _Monitor_, steamed boldly out to meet her.

Then ensued a three hours' naval conflict which held the breathless
attention of the active participants and the spectators on ship and
shore, and for many weeks excited the wonderment of the reading world.
If the _Monitor's_ solid eleven-inch balls bounded without apparent
effect from the sloping roof of the _Merrimac_, so, in turn, the
_Merrimac's_ broadsides passed harmlessly over the low deck of the
_Monitor_, or rebounded from the round sides of her iron turret. When
the unwieldy rebel turtleback, with her slow, awkward movement, tried
to ram the pointed raft that carried the cheese-box, the little vessel,
obedient to her rudder, easily glided out of the line of direct impact.

Each ship passed through occasional moments of danger, but the long
three hours' encounter ended without other serious damage than an injury
to Lieutenant Worden by the explosion of a rebel shell against a crevice
of the _Monitor's_ pilot-house through which he was looking, which,
temporarily blinding his eye-sight, disabled him from command. At that
point the battle ended by mutual consent. The _Monitor_, unharmed except
by a few unimportant dents in her plating, ran into shoal water to
permit surgical attendance to her wounded officer. On her part, the
_Merrimac_, abandoning any further molestation of the other ships,
steamed away at noon to her retreat in Elizabeth River. The forty-one
rounds fired from the _Monitor's_ guns had so far weakened the
_Merrimac's_ armor that, added to the injuries of the previous day, it
was of the highest prudence to avoid further conflict. A tragic fate
soon ended the careers of both vessels. Owing to other military events,
the _Merrimac_ was abandoned, burned, and blown up by her officers about
two months later; and in the following December, the _Monitor_ foundered
in a gale off Cape Hatteras. But the types of these pioneer ironclads,
which had demonstrated such unprecedented fighting qualities, were
continued. Before the end of the war the Union navy had more than twenty
monitors in service; and the structure of the _Merrimac_ was in a number
of instances repeated by the Confederates.

The most brilliant of all the exploits of the navy during the year 1862
were those carried on under the command of Flag-Officer David G.
Farragut, who, though a born Southerner and residing in Virginia when
the rebellion broke out, remained loyal to the government and true to
the flag he had served for forty-eight years. Various preparations had
been made and various plans discussed for an effective attempt against
some prominent point on the Gulf coast. Very naturally, all examinations
of the subject inevitably pointed to the opening of the Mississippi as
the dominant problem to be solved; and on January 9, Farragut was
appointed to the command of the western Gulf blockading squadron, and
eleven days thereafter received his confidential instructions to attempt
the capture of the city of New Orleans.

Thus far in the war, Farragut had been assigned to no prominent service,
but the patience with which he had awaited his opportunity was now more
than compensated by the energy and thoroughness with which he
superintended the organization of his fleet. By the middle of April he
was in the lower Mississippi with seventeen men-of-war and one hundred
and seventy-seven guns. With him were Commander David D. Porter, in
charge of a mortar flotilla of nineteen schooners and six armed
steamships, and General Benjamin F. Butler, at the head of an army
contingent of six thousand men, soon to be followed by considerable
reinforcements.

The first obstacle to be overcome was the fire from the twin forts
Jackson and St. Philip, situated nearly opposite each other at a bend of
the Mississippi twenty-five miles above the mouth of the river, while
the city of New Orleans itself lies seventy-five miles farther up the
stream. These were formidable forts of masonry, with an armament
together of over a hundred guns, and garrisons of about six hundred men
each. They also had auxiliary defenses: first, of a strong river
barrier of log rafts and other obstructions connected by powerful
chains, half a mile below the forts; second, of an improvised fleet of
sixteen rebel gunboats and a formidable floating battery. None of
Farragut's ships were ironclad. He had, from the beginning of the
undertaking, maintained the theory that a wooden fleet, properly
handled, could successfully pass the batteries of the forts. "I would as
soon have a paper ship as an ironclad; only give me _men_ to fight her!"
he said. He might not come back; but New Orleans would be won. In his
hazardous undertaking his faith was based largely on the skill and
courage of his subordinate commanders of ships, and this faith was fully
sustained by their gallantry and devotion.

Porter's flotilla of nineteen schooners carrying two mortars each,
anchored below the forts, maintained a heavy bombardment for five days,
and then Farragut decided to try his ships. On the night of the
twentieth the daring work of two gunboats cut an opening through the
river barrier through which the vessels might pass; and at two o'clock
on the morning of April 24, Farragut gave the signal to advance. The
first division of his fleet, eight vessels, led by Captain Bailey,
successfully passed the barrier. The second division of nine ships was
not quite so fortunate. Three of them failed to pass the barrier, but
the others, led by Farragut himself in his flag-ship, the _Hartford_,
followed the advance.

The starlit night was quickly obscured by the smoke of the general
cannonade from both ships and forts; but the heavy batteries of the
latter had little effect on the passing fleet. Farragut's flag-ship was
for a short while in great danger. At a moment when she slightly
grounded a huge fire-raft, fully ablaze, was pushed against her by a
rebel tug, and the flames caught in the paint on her side, and mounted
into her rigging. But this danger had also been provided against, and by
heroic efforts the _Hartford_ freed herself from her peril. Immediately
above the forts, the fleet of rebel gunboats joined in the battle, which
now resolved itself into a series of conflicts between single vessels or
small groups. But the stronger and better-armed Union ships quickly
destroyed the Confederate flotilla, with the single exception that two
of the enemy's gunboats rammed the _Varuna_ from opposite sides and sank
her. Aside from this, the Union fleet sustained much miscellaneous
damage, but no serious injury in the furious battle of an hour and a
half.

With but a short halt at Quarantine, six miles above the forts, Farragut
and his thirteen ships of war pushed on rapidly over the seventy-five
miles, and on the forenoon of April 25 New Orleans lay helpless under
the guns of the Union fleet. The city was promptly evacuated by the
Confederate General Lovell. Meanwhile, General Butler was busy moving
his transports and troops around outside by sea to Quarantine; and,
having occupied that point in force, Forts Jackson and St. Philip
capitulated on April 28. This last obstruction removed, Butler, after
having garrisoned the forts, brought the bulk of his army up to New
Orleans, and on May 1 Farragut turned over to him the formal possession
of the city, where Butler continued in command of the Department of the
Gulf until the following December.

Farragut immediately despatched an advance section of his fleet up the
Mississippi. None of the important cities on its banks below Vicksburg
had yet been fortified, and, without serious opposition, they
surrendered as the Union ships successively reached them. Farragut
himself, following with the remainder of his fleet, arrived at
Vicksburg on May 20. This city, by reason of the high bluffs on which it
stands, was the most defensible point on the whole length of the great
river within the Southern States; but so confidently had the
Confederates trusted to the strength of their works at Columbus, Island
No. 10, Fort Pillow, and other points, that the fortifications of
Vicksburg had thus far received comparatively little attention. The
recent Union victories, however, both to the north and south, had
awakened them to their danger; and when Lovell evacuated New Orleans, he
shipped heavy guns and sent five Confederate regiments to Vicksburg; and
during the eight days between their arrival on May 12 and the twentieth,
on which day Farragut reached the city, six rebel batteries were put in
readiness to fire on his ships.

General Halleck, while pushing his siege works toward Corinth, was
notified as early as April 27 that Farragut was coming, and the logic of
the situation ought to have induced him to send a coöperating force to
Farragut's assistance, or, at the very least, to have matured plans for
such coöperation. All the events would have favored an expedition of
this kind. When Corinth, at the end of May, fell into Halleck's hands,
Forts Pillow and Randolph on the Mississippi River were hastily
evacuated by the enemy, and on June 6 the Union flotilla of river
gunboats which had rendered such signal service at Henry, Donelson, and
Island No. 10, reinforced by a hastily constructed flotilla of heavy
river tugs converted into rams, gained another brilliant victory in a
most dramatic naval battle at Memphis, during which an opposing
Confederate flotilla of similar rams and gunboats was almost completely
destroyed, and the immediate evacuation of Memphis by the Confederates
thereby forced.

This left Vicksburg as the single barrier to the complete opening of the
Mississippi, and that barrier was defended by only six batteries and a
garrison of six Confederate regiments at the date of Farragut's arrival
before it. But Farragut had with his expedition only two regiments of
troops, and the rebel batteries were situated at such an elevation that
the guns of the Union fleet could not be raised sufficiently to silence
them. Neither help nor promise of help came from Halleck's army, and
Farragut could therefore do nothing but turn his vessels down stream and
return to New Orleans. There, about June 1, he received news from the
Navy Department that the administration was exceedingly anxious to have
the Mississippi opened; and this time, taking with him Porter's mortar
flotilla and three thousand troops, he again proceeded up the river, and
a second time reached Vicksburg on June 25.

The delay, however, had enabled the Confederates greatly to strengthen
the fortifications and the garrison of the city. Neither a bombardment
from Porter's mortar sloops, nor the running of Farragut's ships past
the batteries, where they were joined by the Union gunboat flotilla from
above, sufficed to bring the Confederates to a surrender. Farragut
estimated that a coöperating land force of twelve to fifteen thousand
would have enabled him to take the works; and Halleck, on June 28 and
July 3, partially promised early assistance. But on July 14 he reported
definitely that it would be impossible for him to render the expected
aid. Under these circumstances, the Navy Department ordered Farragut
back to New Orleans, lest his ships of deep draft should be detained in
the river by the rapidly falling water. The capture of Vicksburg was
postponed for a whole year, and the early transfer of Halleck to
Washington changed the current of Western campaigns.




XXI

McClellan's Illness--Lincoln Consults McDowell and Franklin--President's
Plan against Manassas--McClellan's Plan against Richmond--Cameron and
Stanton--President's War Order No. 1--Lincoln's Questions to
McClellan--News from the West--Death of Willie Lincoln--The Harper's
Ferry Fiasco--President's War Order No. 3--The News from Hampton
Roads--Manassas Evacuated--Movement to the Peninsular--Yorktown--The
Peninsula Campaign--Seven Days' Battles--Retreat to Harrison's Landing


We have seen how the express orders of President Lincoln in the early
days of January, 1862, stirred the Western commanders to the beginning
of active movements that brought about an important series of victories
during the first half of the year. The results of his determination to
break a similar military stagnation in the East need now to be related.

The gloomy outlook at the beginning of the year has already been
mentioned. Finding on January 10 that General McClellan was still ill
and unable to see him, he called Generals McDowell and Franklin into
conference with himself, Seward, Chase, and the Assistant Secretary of
War; and, explaining to them his dissatisfaction and distress at
existing conditions, said to them that "if something were not soon done,
the bottom would be out of the whole affair; and if General McClellan
did not want to use the army, he would like to borrow it, provided he
could see how it could be made to do something."

The two generals, differing on some other points, agreed, however, in a
memorandum prepared next day at the President's request, that a direct
movement against the Confederate army at Manassas was preferable to a
movement by water against Richmond; that preparations for the former
could be made in a week, while the latter would require a month or six
weeks. Similar discussions were held on the eleventh and twelfth, and
finally, on January 13, by which date General McClellan had sufficiently
recovered to be present. McClellan took no pains to hide his displeasure
at the proceedings, and ventured no explanation when the President asked
what and when anything could be done. Chase repeated the direct
interrogatory to McClellan himself, inquiring what he intended doing
with his army, and when he intended doing it. McClellan stated his
unwillingness to develop his plans, but said he would tell them if he
was ordered to do so. The President then asked him if he had in his own
mind any particular time fixed when a movement could be commenced.
McClellan replied that he had. "Then," rejoined the President, "I will
adjourn this meeting."

While these conferences were going on, a change occurred in the
President's cabinet; Secretary of War Cameron, who had repeatedly
expressed a desire to be relieved from the onerous duties of the War
Department, was made minister to Russia and Edwin M. Stanton appointed
to succeed him. Stanton had been Attorney-General during the last months
of President Buchanan's administration, and, though a lifelong Democrat,
had freely conferred and coöperated with Republican leaders in the
Senate and House of Representatives in thwarting secession schemes. He
was a lawyer of ability and experience, and, possessing organizing
qualities of a high degree combined with a strong will and great
physical endurance, gave his administration of the War Department a
record for efficiency which it will be difficult for any future minister
to equal; and for which service his few mistakes and subordinate faults
of character will be readily forgotten. In his new functions, Stanton
enthusiastically seconded the President's efforts to rouse the Army of
the Potomac to speedy and vigorous action.

In his famous report, McClellan states that very soon after Stanton
became Secretary of War he explained verbally to the latter his plan of
a campaign against Richmond by way of the lower Chesapeake Bay, and at
Stanton's direction also explained it to the President. It is not
strange that neither the President nor the new Secretary approved it.
The reasons which then existed against it in theory, and were afterward
demonstrated in practice, are altogether too evident. As this first plan
was never reduced to writing, it may be fairly inferred that it was one
of those mere suggestions which, like all that had gone before, would
serve only to postpone action.

The patience of the President was at length so far exhausted that on
January 27 he wrote his General War Order No. I, which directed "that
the 22d day of February, 1862, be the day for a general movement of all
the land and naval forces of the United States against the insurgent
forces," and that the Secretaries of War and of the Navy, the
general-in-chief, and all other commanders and subordinates of land and
naval forces "will severally be held to their strict and full
responsibilities for prompt execution of this order." To leave no doubt
of his intention that the Army of the Potomac should make a beginning,
the President, four days later, issued his Special War Order No. I,
directing that after providing safely for the defense of Washington, it
should move against the Confederate army at Manassas Junction, on or
before the date announced.

As McClellan had been allowed to have his way almost without question
for six months past, it was, perhaps, as much through mere habit of
opposition as from any intelligent decision in his own mind that he
again requested permission to present his objections to the President's
plan. Mr. Lincoln, thereupon, to bring the discussion to a practical
point, wrote him the following list of queries on February 3:

"MY DEAR SIR: You and I have distinct and different plans for a movement
of the Army of the Potomac--yours to be down the Chesapeake, up the
Rappahannock to Urbana, and across land to the terminus of the railroad
on the York River; mine, to move directly to a point on the railroad
southwest of Manassas.

"If you will give me satisfactory answers to the following questions, I
shall gladly yield my plan to yours.

"_First_. Does not your plan involve a greatly larger expenditure of
time and money than mine?"

"_Second_. Wherein is a victory more certain by your plan than mine?"

"_Third_. Wherein is a victory more valuable by your plan than mine?"

"_Fourth_. In fact, would it not be less valuable in this, that it would
break no great line of the enemy's communications, while mine would?"

"_Fifth_. In case of disaster, would not a retreat be more difficult by
your plan than mine?"

Instead of specifically answering the President's concise
interrogatories, McClellan, on the following day, presented to the
Secretary of War a long letter, reciting in much detail his statement of
what he had done since coming to Washington, and giving a rambling
outline of what he thought might be accomplished in the future
prosecution of the war. His reasoning in favor of an advance by
Chesapeake Bay upon Richmond, instead of against Manassas Junction,
rests principally upon the assumption that at Manassas the enemy is
prepared to resist, while at Richmond there are no preparations; that to
win Manassas would give us only the field of battle and the moral effect
of a victory, while to win Richmond would give us the rebel capital with
its communications and supplies; that at Manassas we would fight on a
field chosen by the enemy, while at Richmond we would fight on one
chosen by ourselves. If as a preliminary hypothesis these comparisons
looked plausible, succeeding events quickly exposed their fallacy.

The President, in his anxious studies and exhaustive discussion with
military experts in the recent conferences, fully comprehended that
under McClellan's labored strategical theories lay a fundamental error.
It was not the capture of a place, but the destruction of the rebel
armies that was needed to subdue the rebellion. But Mr. Lincoln also saw
the fearful responsibility he wou