Chapter V: Part 5

"As he moved along in his speech he became freer and less uneasy in his movements; to that extent he was graceful. He had a perfect naturalness, a strong individuality; and to that extent he was dignified. There was a world of meaning and emphasis in the long, bony finger of his right hand as he dotted the ideas on the minds of his hearers. Sometimes, to express joy or pleasure, he would raise both hands at an angle of about fifty degrees, the palms upward. If the sentiment was one of detestation,--denunciation of slavery, for example,--both arms, thrown upward and the fists clinched, swept through the air, and he expressed an execration that was truly sublime. This was one of his most effective gestures, and signified most vividly a fixed determination to drag down the object of his hatred and trample it in the dust. He always stood squarely on his feet, toe even with toe; that is, he never put one foot before the other. He neither touched nor leaned on anything for support. He made but few changes in his positions and attitudes. He never ranted, never walked backward and forward on the platform. To ease his arms he frequently caught hold, with his left hand, of the lapel of his coat, keeping his thumb upright and leaving his right hand free to gesticulate. The designer of the monument erected in Chicago has happily caught him in just this attitude. As he proceeded with his speech the exercise of his vocal organs altered somewhat the tone of his voice. It lost in a measure its former acute and shrilling pitch, and mellowed into a more harmonious and pleasant sound. His form expanded, and, notwithstanding the sunken breast, he rose up a splendid and imposing figure. His little gray eyes flashed in a face aglow with the fire of his profound thoughts, and his uneasy movements and diffident manner sunk themselves beneath the wave of righteous indignation that came sweeping over him. Such was Lincoln the orator."

Mr. Lincoln's own impressions were expressed to a friend as follows: "Senator Douglas is of world-wide renown," he said. "All of the anxious politicians of his party, or who have been of his party for years past, have been looking upon him as certainly at no distant day to be President of the United States. They have seen in his round, jolly, fruitful face post-offices, land-offices, marshalships, and Cabinet appointments, chargé-ships and foreign missions, bursting and sprouting out in wonderful exuberance ready to be laid hold of by their greedy hands. And as they have been gazing upon this attractive picture so long, they cannot, in the little distraction that has taken place in the party, bring themselves to give up the charming hope; but with greedier anxiety they rush about him, sustain him, and give him marches, triumphal entries, and receptions beyond what even in the days of highest prosperity they could have brought about in his favor. On the contrary, nobody has ever expected me to be President. In my poor, lean, lank face nobody has ever seen that any cabbages were sprouting out. These are disadvantages, all taken together, that the Republicans labor under. We have to fight this battle upon principle, and principle alone."

As a rule, when both occupied the same platform their manners and language were very courteous; but occasionally, when speaking elsewhere, Mr. Douglas lost his temper and indulged in personal attacks upon his opponent. Mr. Horace White, who reported the debate for one of the Chicago papers, describes one of these occasions as follows;

"We arrived at Havana while Douglas was still speaking. I strolled up to the Douglas meeting just before its conclusion, and there met a friend who had heard the whole. He was in a state of high indignation. He said that Douglas must certainly have been drinking before he came on the platform, because he had called Lincoln 'a liar, a coward, a wretch, and a sneak.'" When Mr. Lincoln replied, on the following day, he took notice of Douglas's hard words in this way:

"I am informed that my distinguished friend yesterday became a little excited, nervous(?) perhaps, and that he said something about fighting, as though looking to a personal encounter between himself and me. Did anybody in this audience hear him use such language? ['Yes, yes.'] I am informed, further, that somebody in his audience, rather more excited or nervous than himself, took off his coat and offered to take the job off Judge Douglas's hands and fight Lincoln himself. Did anybody here witness that warlike proceeding? [Laughter and cries of 'Yes.'] Well, I merely desire to say that I shall fight neither Judge Douglas nor his second. I shall not do this for two reasons, which I will explain. In the first place, a fight would prove nothing which is in issue in this election. It might establish that Judge Douglas is a more muscular man than myself, or it might show that I am a more muscular man than Judge Douglas; but that subject is not referred to in the Cincinnati platform, nor in either of the Springfield platforms. Neither result would prove him right nor me wrong. And so of the gentleman who offered to do his fighting for him. If my fighting Judge Douglas would not prove anything, it would certainly prove nothing for me to fight his bottle-holder. My second reason for not having a personal encounter with Judge Douglas is that I don't believe he wants it himself. He and I are about the best friends in the world, and when we get together he would no more think of fighting me than of fighting his wife. Therefore when the Judge talked about fighting he was not giving vent to any ill-feeling of his own, but was merely trying to excite--well, let us say enthusiasm against me on the part of his audience. And, as I find he was tolerably successful in this, we will call it quits."

The crisis of the debate came at Freeport on August 27, 1858, when Lincoln proposed a series of questions for Douglas to answer. At the previous meeting at Ottawa, Douglas propounded a series of questions for Lincoln which were designed to commit him to strong abolition doctrines. He asked whether Lincoln was pledged to the repeal of the fugitive-slave law, to resist 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 the States, to the prohibition of slavery in the Territories, and to oppose the acquisition of any new Territory unless slavery was prohibited therein. Lincoln replied with great candor that he was pledged to no proposition except the prohibition of slavery in all the Territories of the United States. It was then that he turned upon Douglas with four questions, the second of which was laden with the most tremendous consequences not only to the debaters personally, but to the entire nation and the cause of human freedom:

"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?"

In proposing this question Lincoln rejected the advice and disregarded the entreaties of his wisest friends and most devoted adherents, for they predicted that it would give Douglas an opportunity to square himself with the people of Illinois and to secure his re-election to the United States Senate. Lincoln replied,--

"I am killing larger game; if Douglas answers he can never be President, and the battle of 1860 is worth a hundred of this."

This prediction, which was afterwards fulfilled, shows Lincoln's remarkable political foresight perhaps better than any single incident in his career. A private letter, written more than a month before, shows that Lincoln had long and carefully studied the probable consequences of the answer that Douglas must make to such an interrogatory, and its fatal effect upon his political fortunes; for, even then, he foresaw that Douglas was to be the Democratic candidate for the Presidency of the United States, and that his reply would deprive him of the support of more than half of the members of that party. With extraordinary sagacity, he pointed out that Douglas would eagerly seize upon such an opportunity as this interrogatory afforded to place himself right before his constituents in Illinois, and thus would recover his popularity and insure his re-election to the Senate. And he was confident that Douglas was so shortsighted as to do this and then trust to his cunning to set himself right afterwards with the people of the slave States, which Lincoln believed would be impossible. But even he did not realize the tremendous and far-reaching results of his inquiry, for the answer which Douglas gave split the Democratic party into irreconcilable factions, and enabled the Republican minority to select the President of the United States at the most critical period of the nation's history, and thus to save the Union.

"You will have hard work to get him [Douglas] directly to the point whether a territorial Legislature has or has not the power to exclude slavery," said Lincoln to a friend; "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 the ground that slavery cannot 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." And that was exactly what Douglas did do. He repeated the sophism he had advanced in his speech at Springfield on the Dred Scott decision the previous year, and said,--

"It matters not 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."

The supporters of Douglas shouted with satisfaction at the clever way in which he had escaped the trap Lincoln had set for him. His re-election to the Senate was practically secured, and Lincoln had been defeated at his own game. Lincoln's friends were correspondingly depressed, and in their despondency admitted that their favorite had no longer any prospect of election; that he had thrown his own chances away.

Mr. Douglas was re-elected; but when Congress met in December, and he was removed by the Democratic caucus from the chairmanship of the Senate Committee on Territories, which he had held for eleven years, because he had betrayed the slave-holders in his answer to Lincoln, at Freeport, the Republicans of Illinois began to realize the political sagacity of their leader. Then when, for the same reason, the Democratic National Convention at Charleston was broken up by the Southern delegates rather than accept Douglas as the Democratic candidate for the Presidency, Lincoln's reputation as a political prophet was established.

In 1861 Lincoln asked Joseph Medill, of the _Chicago Tribune_, if he recalled his opposition to putting that fatal question to Douglas.

"Yes," replied Medill, "I recollect it very well. It lost Douglas the Presidency, but it lost you the Senatorship."

"Yes," said Mr. Lincoln. "And I have won the place he was playing for."

Douglas was the regular Democratic candidate for President against Lincoln in 1860, but was opposed by the Southern faction. At Lincoln's inauguration he appeared with his usual dignity, and stood beside his rival upon the platform. As a member of the Senate he criticised Lincoln's policy until hostilities actually broke out, when his patriotism overcame his partisanship and he became an earnest supporter of the government. On the evening of April 14, the day of the fall of Sumter, he called at the White House by appointment and spent two hours alone with the President. Neither ever revealed what occurred at the interview, but it was not necessary. From that hour until his death on June 3 following he stood by Lincoln's side in defence of the Union. His last public utterance was a patriotic speech before the Legislature on April 25, urging the people of Illinois to stand by the flag. His last interview with Lincoln occurred a few days previous.

"Douglas came rushing in," said the President afterwards, "and said he had just got a telegraph message from some friends in Illinois urging him to come out and help set things right in Egypt, and that he would go or stay in Washington, just where I thought he could do the most good. I told him to do as he chose, but that he would probably do best in Illinois. Upon that he shook hands with me and hurried away to catch the next train. I never saw him again."

The country at large had watched the debate between Lincoln and Douglas with profound interest, and thinking men of both parties realized that a new leader as well as a great orator and statesman had appeared upon the horizon. Lincoln was overwhelmed with congratulations and invitations came from every direction to make speeches and deliver lectures, but most of them were declined. He spoke twice in Ohio, at Columbus and at Cincinnati, where he excited great enthusiasm and left so deep an impression that the State Committee published his speeches and the debate with Douglas as a campaign document. In December he went to Kansas and delivered five lectures, and in the spring of 1860 he received an invitation from a young men's association in Brooklyn to deliver a lecture in Plymouth Church, of which Henry Ward Beecher was then pastor. They offered a fee of two hundred dollars which was very acceptable because his practice had been sadly neglected and he was feeling very poor. At the same time his natural diffidence made him reluctant to appear before an Eastern audience, and when he arrived in New York and discovered that he was to speak in Cooper Institute instead of in Brooklyn, he was fearful that he had made a mistake. Henry C. Bowen invited him to be his guest in Brooklyn, but he declined, saying that he was afraid his lecture would not be a success and he must give his whole time to revising it. He was afraid his audience would be disappointed and the young men who had kindly invited him would suffer financially.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN IN 1861

Copied from the original in the possession of Frank A. Brown, Esq., Minneapolis, Minnesota]

This was perhaps the first time Lincoln ever misjudged his situation. His intuitions as well as his reasoning powers were usually very accurate, but in this case they were far out of the way, for when he arrived at Cooper Institute he was amazed to find the immense hall crowded with the representatives of the culture, commerce, finance, and industry of the metropolis. It was a notable audience in many respects. He was escorted to the platform by Horace Greeley and David Dudley Field, and introduced by William Cullen Bryant. Every man of importance in New York City was present, many of them, no doubt, attracted by curiosity to see and hear the homely lawyer from the prairies of whom they had read in the newspapers. But he captivated his audience from the start. Every hearer was impressed not only with his convincing arguments, but with his dignity and eloquence.

Lincoln began his address in a low monotone, and was evidently embarrassed, but the respectful attention with which he was heard gave him confidence, his tones rose in strength and gained in clearness, and his awkward manner disappeared, as it always did when his consciousness was lost in the earnest presentation of his thoughts. His style was so simple, his language so unstudied and terse, his illustration so quaint and apt, his reasoning so concise and compact that his critics asked themselves and one another, as Henry M. Field says, "What manner of man is this lawyer from the West who has set forth these truths as we have never heard them before?" Lincoln made no effort at display. He estimated the intelligence of his hearers accurately, and introduced neither anecdote nor witticism, nor is there a figure of speech or a poetic fancy in the first half of his oration. There was no more sentiment than he would have introduced in a legal argument before the Supreme Court, but he nevertheless arrested and held the attention of his hearers, and they gave abundant testimony that they recognized him as a master. No man ever made a more profound impression upon an American audience. His speech was published in full in four of the morning papers and extracts were copied widely throughout the country.

The Honorable Joseph H. Choate, ambassador to Great Britain, himself one of the most eminent of American orators, in an address at Edinburgh in 1900, has given us the following graphic description of Lincoln's Cooper Institute speech:

"It is now forty years since I first saw and heard Abraham Lincoln, but the impression which he left on my mind is ineffaceable. After his great successes in the West he came to New York to make a political address. He appeared in every sense of the word like one of the plain people among whom he loved to be counted. At first sight there was nothing impressive or imposing about him, except that his great stature singled him out from the crowd; his clothes hung awkwardly on his giant frame, his face was of a dark pallor, without the slightest tinge of color; his seamed and rugged features bore the furrows of hardship and struggle; his deep-set eyes looked sad and anxious; his countenance in repose gave little evidence of that brainpower which had raised him from the lowest to the highest station among his countrymen. As he talked to me before the meeting he seemed ill at ease, with that sort of apprehension which a young man might feel before presenting himself to a new and strange audience whose critical disposition he dreaded.

"It was a great audience, including all the noted men--all the learned and cultured--of his party in New York: editors, clergymen, statesmen, lawyers, merchants, critics. They were all very curious to hear him. His fame as a powerful speaker had preceded him, and exaggerated rumor of his wit had reached the East. When Mr. Bryant presented him on the high platform of the Cooper Institute a vast sea of eager, upturned faces greeted him, full of intense curiosity to see what this rude child of the people was like. He was equal to the occasion. When he spoke he was transformed; his eye kindled, his voice rang, his face shone and seemed to light up the whole assembly. For an hour and a half he held his audience in the hollow of his hand. His style of speech and manner of delivery were severely simple. What Lowell called 'the grand simplicities of the Bible,' with which he was so familiar, were reflected in his discourse. With no attempt at ornament or rhetoric, without parade or pretence, he spoke straight to the point. If any came expecting the turgid eloquence or the ribaldry of the frontier, they must have been startled at the earnest and sincere purity of his utterances. It was marvellous to see how this untutored man, by mere self-discipline and the chastening of his own spirit, had outgrown all meretricious arts, and found his way to the grandeur and strength of absolute simplicity.

"He spoke upon the theme which he had mastered so thoroughly. He demonstrated by copious historical proofs and masterly logic that the fathers who created the Constitution in order to form a more perfect union, to establish justice, and to secure the blessings of liberty to themselves and their posterity, intended to empower the Federal government to exclude slavery from the Territories. In the kindliest spirit, he protested against the avowed threat of the Southern States to destroy the Union if, in order to secure freedom in those vast regions, out of which future States were to be carved, a Republican President were elected. He closed with an appeal to his audience, spoken with all the fire of his aroused and kindling conscience, with a full outpouring of his love of justice and liberty, to maintain their political purpose on that lofty and unassailable issue of right and wrong which alone could justify it, and not to be intimidated from their high resolve and sacred duty by any threats of destruction to the government or of ruin to themselves. He concluded with this telling sentence, which drove the whole argument home to all our hearts:

"'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.'

"That night the great hall, and the next day the whole city, rang with delighted applause and congratulations, and he who had come as a stranger departed with the laurels of a great triumph."

While in New York he visited the Five Points House of Industry, and the following account of what occurred is given by a teacher there: "Our Sunday-School in the Five Points was assembled, one Sabbath morning, when I noticed a tall, remarkable man enter the room and take a seat among us. He listened with fixed attention to our exercises, and his countenance expressed such genuine interest that I approached him and suggested that he might be willing to say something to the children. He accepted the invitation with evident pleasure, and, coming forward, began a simple address which at once fascinated every little hearer and hushed the room into silence. His language was strikingly beautiful and his tones musical with the intensest feeling. The little faces around him would droop into sad conviction as he uttered the sentences of warning, and would brighten into sunshine as he spoke cheerful words of promise. Once or twice he attempted to close his remarks, but the imperative shouts of 'Go on!' 'Oh, do go on!' would compel him to resume. As I looked upon the gaunt and sinewy frame of the stranger and marked his powerful head and determined features, now touched into softness by the impressions of the moment, I felt an irresistible curiosity to learn something more about him, and when he was quietly leaving the room I begged to know his name. He courteously replied,--

"'Abraham Lincoln, from Illinois.'"

Lincoln received many invitations to speak in New England and delivered addresses in all of the prominent cities, where he created the same favorable impression and awakened the same popular enthusiasm.

After his inauguration as President, Lincoln made no formal speeches except his two inaugural addresses, but scarcely a week passed that he did not deliver some pleasant little speech from the balcony of the White House or at one of the military camps, and during his journey to Washington he was especially happy in his treatment of the serious questions which were troubling the public mind.

IV

A PRAIRIE POLITICIAN

When Abraham Lincoln was twenty-two years old and a clerk in Denton Offutt's store he offered himself to the voters of New Salem and vicinity as a candidate for the Illinois Legislature. It was the year that the Whigs held their first National Convention and nominated Henry Clay as their candidate for President; and from that time, as has been seen, Lincoln made politics as well as law a profession, and participated actively in every campaign until he was elected President.

In those days nominations for office were made by announcement and not by conventions, and, according to custom, with thirteen other citizens fired with similar ambition, Lincoln issued a circular or "handbill," as it was familiarly called, setting forth in quaint and characteristic candor his "sentiments with regard to local affairs." It was his platform, and no utterance of his entire life is more interesting than the few personal remarks which he addressed to his neighbors:

"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 county, 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."

It was an audacious act for a young man who had been in the county only about nine months to aspire to the honor and responsibility of a law-maker, but, compared with his neighbors, Lincoln's qualifications were conspicuous. He could read and write, had a fair knowledge of literature, had read two or three law-books, was a practical surveyor, and by reason of his two journeys to New Orleans had seen a good deal more of the world than any one in that neighborhood. But these qualifications did not count for much in comparison with his ability as a public speaker and his faculty of doing things which had already made him a reputation throughout the county. Although his advantages had been limited, they were superior to those enjoyed by three-fourths of the young men in Sangamon County, and for education, experience, and other qualifications he surpassed a majority of the members of the Legislature. There were only a few men of culture and education in that body. It was chiefly made up of illiterate pioneers who mixed politics with farming and carried on their campaigns at camp-meetings, horseraces, country stores, and taverns, and resorted to every subterfuge that their shrewd minds could invent to secure votes. At the same time they were generally honest, patriotic, and earnest for the welfare of their constituents and their personal characters commanded the esteem and confidence of the public. Among such men Lincoln's talent for talking and writing, his knowledge of poetry and literature, and, more than all, his genius as a story-teller excited admiration and respect, and he was regarded as the most promising young man in the neighborhood. His announcement "handbill" discussed the several topics which at that time were being agitated, such as the improvement of the Sangamon River. He related his experience with flat-boats, and declared that by straightening the channel and clearing away the drift-wood the stream could be made navigable. "The improvement of the Sangamon River," he sagely remarked, "is an object much better suited to our infant resources" than the construction of a railway, and, indeed, it was fifteen years later that the first whistle of a locomotive was heard in Illinois. He took broad grounds in favor of internal improvements, advocated a law prohibiting money-loaners from charging exorbitant rates of interest, and favored liberal appropriations for education.

"For my part," he said, "I desire to see the time when education, and by its means morality, sobriety, enterprise, and industry, shall become much more general than at present, and should be gratified to have it in my power to contribute something to the advancement of any measure which might have a tendency to accelerate that happy period."

Perhaps, if he could have made a thorough campaign and extended his acquaintance and popularity throughout the county, he might have been elected, but just a month after his announcement was published he went off to the Black Hawk War (as is told in Chapter VI.) and did not return until a few days before the election, so that his canvass was limited. It was long enough, however, for him to make a record as a man of moral courage and ability. Although the great majority of the population were Democrats, he boldly declared himself a Whig, which must have cost him many votes. National issues were not usually brought into local politics, but the contest between Clay and Jackson was animated and bitter; the Democrats were despotic and intolerant towards the opposition, and were so much in the majority that a Whig had very little consideration. Lincoln has left us a brief account of the campaign, in which he says that he ran as "an avowed Clay man," and in his speeches advocated the principles and policy of Henry Clay's platform. "I am in favor of a national bank; I am in favor of an internal improvement system and a high protective tariff," he announced boldly, and it must have cost him a severe struggle with his ambition to have placed himself upon the unpopular side and to have joined a hopeless minority at the beginning of his political career; but he obeyed his convictions, and nothing better illustrates the stuff of which the man was made.

The returns show that out of 2168 votes Lincoln received only 657, less than one-third of the whole. In New Salem, where he lived, he received all but three of the votes cast, although a few months later Andrew Jackson carried the same precinct with 185 votes against 70 for Henry Clay.

This was the only time that Abraham Lincoln was defeated on a direct vote of the people. He was greatly gratified by the evidence of his popularity, and was confident that if he could extend his acquaintance through the county he would be successful at the next election; but how was he to get a living in the mean time? Offutt's store had failed and he was out of employment. He describes the situation himself as follows: "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."

It was a crisis in his life, but he was conscious of his own ability and his faith in himself was strong. If his judgment had been equally accurate, he would have been saved great anxiety and trouble, for it was at this time that he was induced to go into the mercantile speculation which turned out so badly. He managed to make a living, however, and pull through, and when the campaign of 1834 came it was a matter of course that he should again be a candidate for the Legislature. He spent almost the entire summer electioneering, most of the time in those parts of the county where he was least acquainted, appealing for votes in his own peculiar way. It was a rough-and-tumble canvass, often in company with other candidates. "Wherever he saw a crowd of men, he joined them, and he never failed to adapt himself to their point of view in asking for votes," says one of his friends. "If the degree of physical strength was their test for a candidate, he was ready to lift a weight or wrestle with any countryside champion. If the amount of grain a man could cut would recommend him, he seized the cradle and showed the swath he could cut." One of the farmers of the neighborhood tells this story:

"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."

Thirteen candidates were contesting for the four seats in the Legislature and all were engaged in the campaign, besides candidates for Governor, for Congress, and for the State Senate. When the votes were counted, Lincoln's name headed the list. He received 1376, considerably more than a majority, and more than double the total he had received at the election two years before.

At this point Lincoln's political career actually begins, and although during his first session in the Legislature he showed no particular talent and took a modest position in the background, he secured the respect of his colleagues both for his abilities and his character, and among them were several men who afterwards became almost as prominent as himself. They included future governors, generals, senators, judges, and cabinet ministers. In this and future sessions of the Legislature he sat beside Stephen A. Douglas, afterwards United States Senator and Democratic candidate for the Presidency against Lincoln; Edward D. Baker, Senator from both Illinois and Oregon, who was killed at the battle of Ball's Bluff; Orville H. Browning, afterwards United States Senator and Secretary of the Interior; John A. McClernand, for several years a member of the House of Representatives and a major-general in the Civil War; John Logan, father of the late General John A. Logan; Robert M. Cullom, father of Senator Shelby M. Cullom, and others of comparative distinction. These were new associates for the poor young man, and more to his taste as well as his advantage. From this time he cultivated men from whom he could learn, but never lost his affection for those who had shared his humble hardships. He was re-elected to the Legislature four successive terms, in 1836, 1838, and 1840, and spent eight years in the service of his State, making many mistakes and enjoying several triumphs, growing in the esteem and confidence of the people, extending his usefulness and influence, and gradually advancing to a high place among the leaders of the Whig party, which was rapidly gaining in strength.

Among the interesting features of Lincoln's legislative career is a declaration in favor of a limited woman suffrage which appeared in his "handbill" in the campaign of 1836, when he was twenty-seven years old and unmarried.

"I go for all sharing the privileges of the government who assist in bearing its burdens," he said; "consequently I go for admitting all whites to the right of suffrage who pay taxes or bear arms, by no means excluding females."

The Legislature of 1836 and 1837 was responsible for many "wild-cat" schemes which brought disaster upon the people of the young State, and Lincoln was guilty of the same folly and lack of judgment which characterized his associates. It should be said, however, that he was enthusiastically supported by his constituents and public opinion generally, and believed that he was doing the best that could be done for the community.

His greatest triumph was won as the leader of the movement to remove the State capital from Vandalia to Springfield. Being given the management of the bill, he applied all his energy and ability to the task, here showing the same strategic genius which was afterwards demonstrated in the management of the war. His plan of campaign was simple but shrewd. He first persuaded the Legislature to pass a bill removing the capital from Vandalia, then he secured a succession of votes upon other locations, and finally succeeded in carrying a direct vote in favor of Springfield, which was accomplished by his personal influence. Jesse K. Dubois, who represented another part of the State, says, "We gave the vote to Lincoln because we liked him, because we wanted to oblige him, our friend, and because we wanted to recognize him as our leader," which is a great tribute considering the fact that the delegation from Sangamon County was an unusually strong one. It was famous for the stature of its nine members, which, combined, was fifty-five feet. The delegation was known as "the Long Nine."

When the law was signed the citizens of Springfield tendered a banquet to their representatives, and among the toasts was this:

"Abraham Lincoln: one of Nature's noblemen; he has fulfilled the expectations of his friends and disappointed the hopes of his enemies."

In 1838 and again in 1840 Lincoln was the Whig candidate for Speaker of the House of Representatives, which was the highest tribute his colleagues could pay him and illustrates his rapid advancement in influence. Nor did he take this leading position without rivalry. There were strong men among the Whigs of Illinois even at that date. That party represented the wealth, education, and culture of the State, as the Republican party does to-day, while the masses of the people were Democrats. Notwithstanding this rivalry, he pushed rapidly forward, and the qualities which he had shown from the beginning of his political career were strengthened by experience, knowledge, and self-confidence. His kindly disposition and good-nature, his wit and his stories, his willingness to accept any responsibility that might be thrust upon him or undertake any duty, no matter how laborious or disagreeable, and his determination to succeed in everything he attempted made him a leader; while his skill in debate, in parliamentary tactics, and political organization made his co-operation necessary to the success of any movement.

Lincoln organized the Whig party in Illinois. Up to 1832 the convention system was unknown. In that year it was introduced by the Democrats and was denounced with great vigor by the Whigs, who declared it an invention "intended to abridge the liberties of the people by depriving individuals of the privilege of becoming candidates for office, and depriving them of the right to vote for candidates of their own choice;" nevertheless, all good Whigs, and Lincoln among them, immediately recognized the advantages of the new plan. It concentrated the strength of a party upon single candidates for offices instead of allowing it to be scattered and wasted upon several who voluntarily offered themselves. The "machine" organized by Jackson's supporters worked well; Lincoln watched it closely, and although he was reluctant to accept the principle, he was compelled to admit the advantage of the practice, and prepared, at the request of his fellow-Whigs, a confidential circular which formed the basis of a remarkably complete and effective organization of the Whig party in the State.

In 1841, the year previous to his marriage, Lincoln was offered the Whig nomination for Governor, but declined it. He also declined renomination for the Legislature the following year, and became a candidate for Congress. He did not wait to be invited, but sought the nomination and managed his own canvass. He never believed in concealing his ambition; he was never guilty of false modesty; he held that it was an honorable aspiration, and acted accordingly; but, to his disappointment, Sangamon County was instructed for his friend and colleague, Edward D. Baker. He was the more sensitive because he, "a stranger, friendless, uneducated, penniless boy, working on a flat-boat at ten dollars a month," he wrote a friend, had "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."

Lincoln was appointed a delegate to the Convention and instructed to look after Baker's interests. This, he said, "was a good deal like acting as bridegroom for a man who has cut you out;" but he was loyal and energetic and as skilful as usual, although unsuccessful. J. M. Ruggles, one of the delegates, says, "The ayes and noes had been taken and there were fifteen votes apiece, and one in doubt that had not arrived. That was myself. I was known to be a warm friend of Baker, representing people who were partial to Hardin. As soon as I arrived Baker hurried to me, saying, 'How is it? It all depends on you.' On being told that, notwithstanding my partiality for him, the people I represented expected me to vote for Hardin, and that I would have to do so, Baker at once replied, 'You are right--there is no other way.' The Convention was organized, and I was elected secretary. Baker immediately arose and made a most thrilling address, thoroughly arousing the sympathies of the Convention, and ended by declining his candidacy. Hardin was nominated by acclamation and then came the episode.

"Immediately after the nomination, Mr. Lincoln walked across the room to my table and asked if I would favor a resolution recommending Baker for the next term. On being answered in the affirmative, he said, 'You prepare the resolution, I will support it, and I think we can pass it.' The resolution created a profound sensation, especially with the friends of Hardin. After an excited and angry discussion, the resolution passed by a majority of one."

Thus Lincoln defeated his own prospects for a Congressional nomination for four years. Baker was elected in 1844, and then his turn came in 1846, when the Democrats gave him for a competitor the famous Methodist circuit rider, Peter Cartwright, one of the best-known and beloved men of that period on the frontier. He was the highest type of the itinerant preacher. For sixty years he travelled on horseback throughout the Western country, marrying the young people, baptizing their children, burying the dead, preaching by the wayside and in the forests, and when he died in 1872, at eighty-seven years of age, the record of his ministry showed that he had admitted to the church twelve thousand persons, had preached fifteen thousand sermons, and a procession of one hundred and twenty-nine children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren followed him to his grave. With all his piety and devotion to the Methodist Church, Peter Cartwright was an ardent admirer of Andrew Jackson and a Democrat of the most intolerant pro-slavery type. He probably had a larger acquaintance than any other man in the State, was an exhorter of magnetic intensity, and his energy was unsurpassed; but, nevertheless, Lincoln defeated him by 1511 majority when Henry Clay carried the district by only 914.

When the Thirtieth Congress was called to order on December 6, 1847, Abraham Lincoln answered to his name. The rolls also bore the name of Stephen A. Douglas, but before the House of Representatives met he had been elected to the United States Senate. Lincoln was the only Whig member from Illinois. In those days the House met in the old Hall of Representatives, now used for statuary, and he was so unfortunate as to draw one of the most undesirable seats far in the background. He was assigned to the Committee on Post-Offices and Post-Roads, at the foot of the list, attended its meetings regularly, and occasionally took part in the debates on the bills appropriating money for the support of the postal service and other matters pertaining to that committee. He also was a member of the Committee on Expenditures in the War Department, which, however, never met. He devoted a good deal of time trying to secure amendments to the laws relating to bounty lands for soldiers, a subject of which he had some personal knowledge, having himself received a patent for some wild land in Iowa. He looked after certain grants of land made to railroads in Illinois, and endeavored to protect actual settlers who might possibly have been interfered with. During his first session he made the personal acquaintance of but few members, and lived at a quiet Congressional boarding-house kept by a Mrs. Sprigg, on Capitol Hill, where his messmates were Joshua R. Giddings, of Ohio, and several other Whigs. His favorite place of resort was the post-office of the House of Representatives, where he was in the habit of meeting and exchanging stories with several congenial spirits. Among them were Robert Toombs and Alexander H. Stephens, who, like himself, were destined to become conspicuous figures in the great impending drama. Several writers have described encounters between Lincoln and Jefferson Davis at this period, but they were imaginary. Although Mr. Davis was appointed to the Senate the same year, it is not probable that he ever met the obscure member of the Lower House from Illinois.

From the recollections of his colleagues we have many incidents and anecdotes of more or less interest, which show that he retained the same unassuming, simple habits that characterized him as a member of the Legislature.

Daniel Webster, who was then in the Senate, used occasionally to have Lincoln at one of his pleasant Saturday breakfasts, where the Western Congressman's humorous illustrations of the events of the day, sparkling with spontaneous and unpremeditated wit, would give great delight to "the solid men of Boston" assembled around the festive board. At one time Lincoln had transacted some legal business for Mr. Webster connected with an embryo city laid out where Rock River empties into the Mississippi. Mr. Fletcher Webster had gone there for a while; but Rock Island City was not a pecuniary success, and much of the land on which but one payment had been made reverted to the original owners. Lincoln had charged Mr. Webster for his legal services ten dollars, which the great expounder of the Constitution regarded as too small a fee, and he would frequently declare that he was still Lincoln's debtor.

The librarian of the United States Supreme Court remembers that Lincoln came to the library one day for the purpose of procuring some law-books which he wanted to take to his room for examination. He placed them in a pile on the table, tied them up with a large bandanna handkerchief from his pocket, and, putting a stick which he had brought with him through a knot in the handkerchief, shouldered his burden and marched off to his room. In a few days he returned the books in the same way.

He saw very little of the social life of the capital, although Mrs. Lincoln was with him during the long session. His experience was similar to that of the average green Congressman who comes to Washington unheralded and who is compelled to live on his salary. The only social adventure of which we have any knowledge was in attending the inaugural ball, March 4, 1849, of which Mr. E. B. Washburne writes,--

"A small number of mutual friends, including Mr. Lincoln, made up a party to attend Taylor's inauguration ball together. It was by far the most brilliant inauguration ball ever given. Of course Mr. Lincoln had never seen anything of the kind before. One of the most modest and unpretending persons present, he could not have dreamed that like honors were to come to him almost within a little more than a decade. He was greatly interested in all that was to be seen, and we did not take our departure until three or four o'clock in the morning. When we went to the cloak and hat room, Mr. Lincoln had no trouble in finding his short coat, which little more than covered his shoulders, but after a long search was unable to find his hat. After an hour he gave up all idea of finding it. Taking his cloak on his arm, he walked out into Judiciary Square, deliberately adjusted it on his shoulders, and started off bareheaded for his lodgings. It would be hard to forget the sight of that tall and slim man, with his short cloak thrown over his shoulders, starting for his long walk home on Capitol Hill, at four o'clock in the morning, without any hat on."

After the election of President Taylor, in 1848, Lincoln, being the only Whig member of Congress from Illinois, was required to recommend candidates for office and practically controlled the patronage of the State. He was not a civil service reformer. Even while he was President he adhered to the time-honored doctrine that the victors in politics, as in war, were entitled to the spoils, while at the same time he endeavored to get the most efficient men available for the public offices and recognized merit as the first claim for promotion. While in Congress he performed his duty with absolute fairness to his political foes and with loyalty to his political friends so far as he was able to control appointments. Some of his recommendations are unique, for example:

"I recommend that William Butler be appointed Pension Agent for the Illinois agency when the place shall be vacant. Mr. Hurst, the present incumbent, I believe has performed his duties very well. He is a decided partisan, and I believe expects to be removed. Whether he shall be, I submit to the Department. This office is not confined to my district, but pertains to the whole State; so that Colonel Baker has an equal right with myself to be heard concerning it. However, the office is located here (at Springfield), and I think it is not probable that any one would desire to remove from a distance to take it."

In another instance he writes the Secretary of Interior, "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 warm partisan, 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."

In another case he forwards the recommendations of the man whom he does not prefer, with an endorsement calling attention to the importance of the writers, and adding, "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 of his claims, and for the opinions expressed in his favor by those over whom I can claim no superiority."

In all his communications to the Executive Department concerning appointments to office, he never claims a place because of his position and influence; nor does he demand patronage on behalf of his party or his State; nor does he ask for the removal of an incumbent, although in several cases he says that it is desired by the public and the patrons of the office. He always puts himself in the position of an adviser to the government, and modestly expresses his opinion as to the best man for appointment. If there are two candidates, he describes their qualifications with evident candor and fairness.

Lincoln was tendered the Governorship of Oregon, and might have been Commissioner of the General Land Office under President Taylor, but, fortunately, resisted the temptation.

Amos Tuck, of New Hampshire, in his memoirs, says, "In December, 1847, I made my first visit to Washington, and at the same time took my seat as a member of the House of Representatives. The representation of New Hampshire was equally divided, or rather was half Democratic, Messrs. Peaslee and Johnson, and half opposition, Mr. Wilson, Whig, and myself, Independent Democrat. It was the second Congress in Mr. Polk's administration, and the Mexican War was at its height. Robert C. Winthrop was Speaker.