Chapter VI: Part 6

"The most distinguished man by far, member of the House, was John Quincy Adams. By general consent he had for years occupied the seat of his choice, one of the two largest on the floor, in the second row of seats, the first fronting the Speaker at the left. New members were anxious to see Mr. Adams, the honored ex-President, politically the most distinguished man of the country. He was old and feeble, but clear in mind and decided in all his views as he had been in the days of his vigor. He made one short speech early in the session, but could be heard only by a few near him, and in the month of February following died in the Speaker's room at the Capitol.

"I was late in arriving.... In the fourth seat at my left sat a new member from Illinois, the only Whig from that State, a tall, awkward, genial, good fellow, the future President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln. He was then thirty-nine years old, bore all the signs of scanty preparation for influential position, and excited attention only as the lone star of Illinois Whigs and as an agreeable specimen of frontier character. He was not regarded as a man of mark, nor did the thought seem to have entered his own mind of ever taking a high position in the country. Mr. Lincoln had no opportunity, if he had then had the ability, which I do not think he possessed at that time, of distinguishing himself. I remember that the good-will of his acquaintances was strong in his favor. He made one set speech, near the close of the session, wherein he made sundry telling points against the Democrats, delivering it in the open area in front of the clerk's desk, and created much amusement by the aptness of his illustrations, walking around in front of the Democratic members, singling out individuals specially responsible for unsound and inconsistent doctrines. He was good-natured, enjoyed his own wit, heartily joined in the amusement he excited in others, and sat down amid the cheers of his friends. The friendship formed between Mr. Lincoln and myself in that Congress continued through his life. Alexander H. Stephens and Robert Toombs, of Georgia, were likewise members of the Thirtieth Congress, as they had been of the previous Congress. They were both Whigs, the leading men in the House of their party in the South, but more wedded to slave interests than to their political party."

His term in Congress ended on March 4, 1849, and he was not a candidate for re-election. A year before he had contemplated the possibility of entering the field again. He then wrote to his friend and partner, Herndon, "It is very pleasant for me to learn from you that there are some who desire that I should be re-elected. 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 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."

Upon returning from Congress in the spring of 1849, Lincoln renewed his law practice and devoted himself exclusively to it, taking no part in politics and having all that he could do in court until there was a great upheaval in the political situation caused by the repeal of the Missouri Compromise. This so aroused his patriotism and indignation against the Democratic party that he went back to the stump and the committee-room and again became the recognized leader of the Whig party in Illinois. All through Illinois and other States in the neighborhood the Whig politicians turned to him for counsel, which was due to his reputation for wisdom and sagacity. It has been said that Lincoln intended to retire from politics, and he wrote a friend that he "had lost interest until the repeal of the Missouri Compromise;" but his ambition as well as his interest soon revived, for we find him in 1854 the most prominent candidate of the Whig party for the United States Senate.

There was an exciting canvass of the State. He entered into it with great enthusiasm, spoke in nearly every county, and it was agreed by all concerned that if the Republican and Anti-Nebraska Democrats should carry the Legislature, Lincoln would be elected to succeed General Shields. He expected it himself, and his defeat brought him more disappointment and chagrin than any other event in his life. It was a painful experience, but he accepted the result with his usual good-nature and philosophy, and his conduct under the most trying circumstances added lustre to his reputation as a patriotic, honorable, unselfish man, and he never forgot his obligation to those who stood by him in the contest.

With his usual candor, he had addressed letters to the Whigs and Anti-Nebraska men who had been elected to the Legislature, asking their support. The replies were almost without exception favorable and in some cases enthusiastic. He was personally known to almost every member, and by his voice and advice had assisted all the Whig candidates during the campaign. But, unfortunately, a complication arose which embarrassed them and him. He had been elected as one of the members from Sangamon County, and the Constitution of the State contained a clause making members of the Legislature and other officials ineligible to the United States Senate. The highest authorities pronounced this provision unconstitutional because the Senate alone was authorized to decide the qualifications of its own members and a State Legislature had no jurisdiction over the subject; but, rather than run the risk of taking the election into the courts, Lincoln decided to resign, relying upon the majority of 650 votes, which had been cast for him, to elect another Whig in his place. Very little interest was taken in the canvass. The Democrats appeared inclined to let the contest go by default. That disarmed the leaders of the Whig party and made the rank and file indifferent. For the first and only time in his political career Lincoln was caught napping. The Democrats nominated a candidate at the very last moment, plunged into a hasty but energetic canvass, got out a full vote, and elected his successor by 60 majority, which lost the Legislature to the Whigs and left them dependant upon their Free-Soil Democratic allies. The members of that party in other parts of the State were very indignant and blamed Lincoln for this unlooked-for result.

He was still further embarrassed by the unauthorized and impertinent act of a small group of abolitionists who met in Springfield before the session of the Legislature, passed resolutions endorsing Lincoln as their candidate for the Senate, and, without consulting him, appointed him a member of their State Central Committee. There were only twenty-six in the assembly,--earnest, eager men, and radical in their views,--and although Lincoln's policy of recognizing the constitutional authority for slavery was well known to them, they admired his ability and the able fight he was making against the extension of the system in the Territories. He was not aware that his name appeared in the list of the abolitionist committee until several weeks after the Convention had adjourned. In fact, very little notice was taken of its meetings, and its action was discovered by the Democrats before it was known to the Whigs. Lincoln immediately wrote a letter declining to serve and saying that he was perplexed to understand why his name was used, because he supposed that his position on the slavery question was not at all satisfactory to their party. But, notwithstanding his disavowal, five Anti-Nebraska Democrats refused under any circumstances to support him for Senator, but cast their votes for Lyman Trumbull. Lincoln was voted for by the other Free-Soilers and Shields by the Democrats. In a letter to Mr. Washburne, written on the evening after the election, Lincoln gives this description of the close of the fight:

"In the mean time our friends, with a view of detaining our expected bolters, had been turning from me to Trumbull until he had risen to 35 and I had been reduced to 15. These would never desert me except by my direction; but I became satisfied that if we could prevent Matteson's election one or two ballots more, we could possibly not do so a single ballot after my friends should begin to return to me from Trumbull. So I determined to strike at once; and accordingly advised my remaining friends to go for him, which they did, and elected him on that, the tenth ballot. Such is the way the thing was done. I think you would have done the same under the circumstances, though Judge Davis, who came down this morning, declares he never would have consented to the 47 (opposition) men being controlled by the 5. I regret my defeat moderately, but am not nervous about it. Perhaps it is well for our grand cause that Trumbull is elected."

And it turned out well for Lincoln, too, because if he had been elected Senator at that time he would never have taken the part he did in the organization of the Republican party, he would never have had the joint debate with Senator Douglas, and in all probability would not have been elected President. Lincoln resumed the practice of his profession, but did not retire from politics again. He took an active interest in every campaign, devoting much of his time to committee work and to the preparation of political literature, extending his acquaintance and increasing his popularity. In the winter of 1855 he attended a meeting of Free-Soil editors at Decatur, who decided upon organizing a Republican party in Illinois and called a convention of all who believed in resisting the extension of slavery to meet at Bloomington in May.

Lincoln was present, made a remarkable speech, which is described in Chapter III., was sent as a delegate to the First National Republican Convention at Philadelphia, and, much to his surprise, received 110 votes for Vice-President on the ticket with Frémont. He was made an elector, canvassed the State thoroughly, making more than fifty set speeches during the campaign, and served as a member of the State Committee.

Mr. Horace White, editor of the _New York Evening Post_, then connected with the _Chicago Tribune_, gives his recollections of Lincoln in the campaign: "I was Secretary of the Republican State Committee of Illinois during some years when he was in active campaign work. He was often present at meetings of the committee, and took part in the committee work. His judgment was very much deferred to in such matters. He was one of the shrewdest politicians in the State. Nobody had more experience in that way, nobody knew better than he what was passing in the minds of the people. Nobody knew better how to turn things to advantage politically, and nobody was readier to take such advantage, provided it did not involve dishonorable means. He could not cheat people out of their votes any more than he could out of their money. Mr. Lincoln never gave his assent, so far as my knowledge goes, to any plan or project for getting votes that would not have borne the full light of day.

"I never heard him express contempt for any man's honest errors, although he would sometimes make a droll remark or tell a funny story about them. Deference to other people's opinions was habitual to him. There was no calculation, no politics in it. It was part and parcel of his sense of equal rights. His democracy was of the unconscious kind--he did not know anything different from it."

In the fall of 1858 there was an election of the Illinois Legislature which would choose a successor to Senator Douglas, whose term of service was to expire March 3, 1859. The Republican party at that time was thoroughly organized and presented a united and enthusiastic front, with encouraging prospects of victory, and Lincoln was again its candidate for the United States Senate. The sympathy of his associates and the people generally over his defeat three years before, their appreciation of his services, their admiration for his ability, and their confidence in his integrity and judgment made him the unanimous choice, and for the first time in history the State Republican Convention passed a resolution to that effect. Then followed the most extraordinary canvass that has ever taken place in any of the States of the Union,--the joint debate between Lincoln and Douglas which is described in Chapter III., followed by Lincoln's second defeat for the Senate. Many of Lincoln's friends believed that he might have been elected but for the interference of Horace Greeley, Seward, Colfax, Burlingame, and other earnest Republicans and antislavery men of national prominence, who urged the people of Illinois to support Douglas because he had opposed the Buchanan administration and had been denounced by the slave-holders of the South. But, while Lincoln was deeply wounded by this betrayal of what he considered a vital political principle, he realized that the existing apportionment of the State made his election improbable because it had been based upon the census of 1850 and gave the southern and Democratic counties an excessive representation over the northern Republican counties, which had more rapidly increased in population. The Republican State officers were chosen by a considerable majority, but the Democrats had eight majority in the Legislature, and Mr. Douglas was elected.

Lincoln had passed through an intense canvass, equally trying to his physical and mental endurance, and his strength as well as his temper were sorely tried; but he was never more composed, patient, and philosophical, and to his friends he wrote hopeful and cheerful letters, taking greater satisfaction in the reputation he had made and the results he had accomplished than he would have felt in a commission as United States Senator. As he told many people, he was not trying to defeat Douglas for Senator so much as to prevent his election to the Presidency, and he succeeded in doing so. The attention of the entire country had been drawn to the canvass in Illinois, Lincoln's name had become known everywhere throughout the country, and, as a Chicago editor wrote him, "You have at once sprung from the position of a capital fellow and a leading lawyer of Illinois to a national reputation."

Another friend wrote him, "You have made a noble canvass, which, if unavailing in this State, has earned you a national reputation and made you friends everywhere."

Lincoln's own view of the case is expressed in a letter to a friend as follows: "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."

The folly of the Eastern Republicans in encouraging the election of Douglas was demonstrated immediately after the election, when that gentleman started upon a tour through the South and made a series of speeches in which he endeavored to convince the slave-holders that he was their best friend and should be their candidate for the Presidency. At the same time Lincoln was invited to speak in the Eastern States, and, after his address in Cooper Institute, New York City, made a tour through New England, creating great interest and making many friends. He became a national character, and his advice was sought by national leaders, to whom his sagacity was immediately apparent. He spent a great deal of time and wrote many letters during the winter of 1858-59, harmonizing the Republican party, concentrating its efforts, and reconciling local prejudices and preferences which conflicted and imperilled its success at the next election. He seemed gifted with foresight that was almost prophetic, for he pointed out with extraordinary accuracy the probable policy which would be pursued by the Democrats, and his suggestions as to the best means for the Republicans to adopt were broad, wise, and statesmanlike. For example, referring to a provision adopted by Massachusetts to restrict naturalization, he wrote, "Massachusetts is a sovereign and independent State, and it is no privilege of mine to scold her for what she does. Still, if from what she has done an inference is sought to be drawn as to what I would do, I may, without impropriety, speak out. I say, then, that, as I understand the Massachusetts provision, I am against its adoption in Illinois, or in any other place where I have a right to oppose it. Understanding the spirit of our institutions to aid at the elevation of men, I am opposed to whatever tends to degrade them. I have some little notoriety for commiserating the oppressed condition of the negro; and I should be strangely inconsistent if I could favor any project for curtailing the existing rights of white men, even though born in different lands and speaking different languages from myself."

He wrote from Springfield to Schuyler Colfax (afterwards Vice-President of the United States), July 6, 1859, "Besides a strong desire to make your personal acquaintance, I was anxious to speak with you on politics a little more fully than I can well do in a letter. 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."

The idea of making Lincoln a Presidential candidate seems to have occurred to a great many people at about the same time, and shortly after his inauguration a regiment might have been organized of the friends who first named him. There are, however, some letters preserved which show that the suggestion had been made to him early in 1859, long before the Cooper Institute address; indeed, immediately after the close of the Senatorial fight in 1858 an editorial friend in Illinois wrote him as follows: "I would like to have a talk with you on political matters, as to the policy of announcing your name for the Presidency, while you are in our city. My partner and myself are about addressing the Republican editors of the State on the subject of a simultaneous announcement of your name for the Presidency."

To this Lincoln replied, "As to the other matter you kindly mention, I must in candor say that 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."

It would seem from other remarks made at the time that he was planning another fight with Douglas and had the patience to wait six years to renew the contest. He wrote several friends that he intended to fight in the ranks, and declined to be a candidate for the Senate against Trumbull; but while he was writing those letters, about January 1, 1860, there was a conference at Springfield of the Republican leaders of the State, said to have been called by Mr. Norman B. Judd, at which a serious and organized effort was begun to secure his nomination. One of the gentlemen present says, "We asked him if his name might be used in connection with the nomination. With characteristic modesty, he doubted whether he could get the nomination even if he wished it, and asked until the next morning to answer us whether his name might be announced. The next day he authorized us, if we thought proper to do so, 'to place him in the field.' In answer to a question whether he would accept a nomination for Vice-President if he could not be put on the first place on the ticket, he replied that if his name were used for the office of President he would not permit it to be used for any other office, no matter how honorable it might be."

From this time Lincoln exerted every proper means to secure success. He did not repose idly in his Springfield office and allow his friends to do the work, but was quite as active and vigilant in his own behalf as any of his supporters, and managed the campaign himself. He had no funds, however, no literary bureau, no head-quarters or personal organization; nearly every letter he sent out on the subject was written with his own hand, and he used plain and characteristic language asking for the support of his friends in Illinois and other States. Whether his intention was to disarm jealousy, or whether he actually believed that his nomination was impossible, he intimated to several of his correspondents that he desired to make a brave show at the Chicago Convention because of the prestige it would give him in his future fight for the Senate. And to another he wrote, "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."

He even sent money from his own small means to pay the expenses of friends who were working in his interest. On March 10, 1860, he wrote to a gentleman in Kansas, "Allow me to say that I cannot enter the ring on the money basis,--first, because in the main it is wrong; and secondly, I have not and cannot get the money. I say in the main the use of money is wrong, but for certain objects in a political contest is both right and indispensable. With me, as with yourself, this long struggle has been one of great pecuniary loss. I now distinctly say this; if you shall be appointed a delegate to Chicago I will furnish one hundred dollars to bear the expense of the trip."

Nevertheless, Kansas instructed her delegation for Seward, whereupon Lincoln wrote a consoling letter to his friends and said, "Don't stir them up to anger, but come along to the Convention and I will do as I said about expenses." There is nothing to show whether the offer was accepted, but, with his usual gratitude for favors received or intended, he appointed his Kansas friend to a lucrative office within ten days after his inauguration, and frequently consulted him about the patronage in that State.

The Illinois State Convention gave Lincoln a hearty endorsement and sent an enthusiastic delegation to Chicago composed of personal friends of great ability, political experience, and personal influence, and by a combination with Chase from Ohio, Cameron from Pennsylvania, Bates from Missouri, and other anti-Seward candidates, he was nominated for the office of President of the United States. The credit of his success was claimed by many; several accounts of bargains have passed into history, and other fictitious explanations for his nomination have been printed from time to time, but we have the authority of David Davis, Norman B. Judd, and other friends who were authorized to speak for him, as well as his own testimony, that after the Convention adjourned he was free from all obligations except the gratitude he was glad to offer to his supporters.

The tree in front of the house was planted by Lincoln]

The evening of the second day after the nomination brought to Springfield a committee of notification composed of some of the most distinguished men of that day and others who were destined to play a conspicuous part in national affairs. George Ashmun, of Massachusetts, was the chairman; Governor Boutwell, afterwards United States Senator and Secretary of the Treasury; Samuel Bowles, editor of the _Springfield Republican_; Carl Schurz, of Wisconsin; Gideon Welles, of Connecticut; Amos Tuck, of New Hampshire; William M. Evarts and Governor Edwin D. Morgan, of New York; "Pig-Iron" Kelley, of Pennsylvania; Francis P. Blair, of Missouri; and others were of the party. Most of them were disappointed at the result of the Convention and distrustful of the strength and ability of the prairie lawyer as a candidate. He received them, however, with simple dignity. They were invited to deliver their message at his modest home, and appeared there a few moments after their arrival in Springfield, to find him surrounded by his family and a few intimate friends. They saw a man of unprepossessing appearance, with long limbs, large hands and feet, stooping shoulders, coarse features, and a shock of rebellious hair. He was the last man in the world, perhaps, to judge by appearances, that this committee would have chosen as a Presidential candidate; but when he began to speak in reply to Mr. Ashmun, a change seemed to come over him. The rugged face and awkward figure were transformed, and the members of the committee recognized at once that they were in the presence of a man who was master of himself and possessed a strength they had not suspected. And when they left Springfield, almost without exception, they were convinced of the wisdom of his nomination.

The opposing candidates prepared long letters of acceptance explanatory of their views and defining their purposes, but Lincoln had already recognized the wisdom of reticence, and the night of his nomination, standing in his own doorway, he told his neighbors and friends who called to congratulate him and demanded a speech that "the time comes upon every man when it is best to keep his lips closed. That time has come to me." Hence his letter of acceptance was the briefest ever written by a Presidential candidate. After one formal introductory phrase, it reads:

"The declaration of principles which accompanies your letter
meets my approval, and it shall be my care not to violate it
or disregard it in any way or part. Imploring the assistance
of Divine Providence, and with due regard for the views and
feelings of all who were represented in the Convention, to
the rights of all the States and Territories and people of
the nation, to the inviolability of the Constitution, and
the perpetual union of prosperity, and harmony of all, I am
most happy to co-operate for the practical success of the
principles declared by the convention. Your obliged friend and
fellow-citizen,

"A. LINCOLN."

This letter was not shown to any one of Lincoln's friends, with the exception of Dr. Newton Bateman, State Superintendent of Education and an intimate friend, to whom Lincoln said,--

"Mr. School-master, here is my letter of acceptance. And I wouldn't like to have any mistakes in it. I am not very strong on grammar and I wish you would see if it is all right."

Mr. Bateman suggested one change, so that it would read "it shall be my care not to violate," instead of "it shall be my care to not violate."

"So you think I better put those two little fellows end to end, do you?" replied Lincoln, taking his pen and making the change suggested.

Lincoln's nomination made very little difference in his daily life. He turned his law practice over to his partner, employed John G. Nicolay, a clerk in the office of the Secretary of State, as his private secretary, was given the use of the Governor's room at the State-House for an office, and devoted his entire time to the reception of visitors and correspondence concerning the campaign. His door stood always open. There was not even an usher. Everybody came and went as freely as when he was a candidate for the Legislature or engaged in his practice. He was the same Abraham Lincoln he had always been, except a little more serious because of increasing responsibilities, and a little more dignified because he was sensible of the honor that had been conferred upon him; but his old friends detected no change in the man, and dropped in to exchange gossip whenever they came to town. Distinguished visitors came from a distance,--statesmen, politicians, wire-pullers, newspaper correspondents, men with great purposes and ambitions, adventurers, lion-hunters, and representatives of all classes and conditions, who usually seek the acquaintance of influential and prominent men and worship a rising sun. He told each a story and sent him away, pleased with his person and impressed with his character. His correspondence had increased enormously and every letter received a polite reply, but he maintained his policy of reticence and gave no indication of his plans or purposes.

One day, while a group of distinguished politicians from a distance were sitting in the Governor's room, chatting with Lincoln, the door opened and an old lady in a big sunbonnet and the garb of a farmer's wife came in.

"I wanted to give you something to take to Washington, Mr. Lincoln," she said, "and these are all I had. I spun the yarn and knit them socks myself." And with an air of pride she handed him a pair of blue woollen stockings.

Lincoln thanked her cordially for her thoughtfulness, inquired after the folks at home, and escorted her to the door as politely as if she had been Queen of England. Then, when he returned to the room, he picked up the socks, held them by the toes, one in each hand, and with a queer smile upon his face remarked to the statesmen around him,--

"The old lady got my latitude and longitude about right, didn't she?"

Such incidents occurred nearly every day and were a source of great pleasure to the President, who was never happier than when in the company of "the plain people," as he called them.

No one man of honest intentions visited him without feeling the better for it and being impressed with his ability, his courage, and his confidence. From the beginning he never doubted his own success. He realized that the Democratic party was hopelessly split and that, while the factions, if combined, might embrace a majority of the voters of the country, the Republicans would have a plurality, and his reasoning was so plausible that he convinced his visitors of the truth of his convictions. He never showed the slightest annoyance at the attacks that were continually made upon his reputation and record, and demonstrated his coolness, self-poise, and wisdom by declining to defend himself or offer explanations. His theory was expressed to a friend who wrote him with great concern about a charge that had been made against his integrity.

"I have made this explanation to you as a friend," he wrote, "but I wish no explanation made to our enemies. What they want is a squabble and a fuss, and that they can have if we explain, and they cannot have it if we don't."

The greater number of inquiries related to his position and intentions towards slavery, and to every one he gave a similar answer, that he had defined his position again and again in his speeches before his nomination, and "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.'"

He kept his finger upon the pulse of the country, and none of the managers of either party was so well informed as to the situation and sentiment in different sections as he. The Republican politicians soon discovered this fact and came to him more and more for advice and instruction. Even Thurlow Weed, who was supposed to be the shrewdest politician in the country, recognized a master and sought counsel from him regarding the management of the campaign in New York. Wherever he detected a weak spot, he sent a word of warning and advice: wherever there were local dissensions, he restored harmony with his tact and good-nature. Thus was Lincoln the manager of his own campaign; more so, perhaps, than any man who was ever elected President. But at the same time he made one great mistake. He had heard the threat of secession so long that he had grown indifferent to it, and he told everybody that "The people of the South have too much sense to attempt the ruin of the government."

The election occurred on November 6, 1860, and the result was what he had expected since his nomination. The Republican electors did not receive a majority by nearly a million votes, but the division of the Democrats left them a plurality.

The city of Springfield had never cast so large a vote for any candidate for office up to that time, and it celebrated its triumph with a jubilee of rejoicing. The people called Lincoln from his house and demanded a speech, but he asked to be excused. He thanked them for their support and congratulations, and remarked, "In all our rejoicing let us neither express nor cherish any hard feeling towards any citizen who has differed from us. Let us at all times remember that all American citizens are brothers of a common country and should dwell together in the bonds of fraternal feeling."

After the excitement had quieted down, Lincoln resumed his former habits and daily routine. Springfield was crowded with politicians those days,--office-seekers and advisers, men who came to ask favors and to offer them. The announcement of his election had been the signal for the conspirators in the South to throw off their masks. During long years of controversy, the pro-slavery party had a hope of ultimate triumph, but until the actual election of Lincoln there was no actual treason or revolutionary act. Four days after the Senators from South Carolina resigned, six weeks later that State declared its separation from the Union and organized an independent government, and, while he was still waiting at Springfield, Lincoln read the newspaper reports of conventions in all the Gulf States, at which they also declared their independence. But he was obliged to sit inactive and helpless; unable to do anything to check the dissolution of the Union, although appeals came from every quarter. He described his situation to an old friend who came to see him at Springfield.

"Joe," he said, sadly, "I suppose you have forgotten the trial down in Montgomery County where your partner gave away your case in his opening speech. I saw you motioning to him and how uneasy you were, but you couldn't stop him, and that's just the way with Buchanan and me. He is giving away the case and I can't stop him."

It was not the Republicans of the North alone that appealed to Lincoln. Unionists of the South came to him for pledges that he would do nothing, for assurances that there was nothing to fear from his election, and he went so far as to make an exception in their case to gratify them. In December he wrote a letter to Alexander H. Stephens, whom he had known and admired in Congress, marked "For your eye only," in which he stated his position in the most positive and unmistakable language, and asked, "Do the people of the South really entertain fears that a Republican administration would directly or indirectly interfere with 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, that 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 is certainly the only substantial difference between us."

General Duff Green came to Springfield in December, 1860, as an emissary from President Buchanan to invite the President-elect to Washington for a conference upon the situation, with the hope that his presence there might prevent civil war, and General Green was bold enough to tell him that, if he did not go, "upon his conscience must rest the blood that would be shed." Here Lincoln's political shrewdness and diplomacy were demonstrated in as conspicuous a manner, perhaps, as at any other crisis in his life. He detected at once the intention to unload upon him the responsibility for disunion and war, and met it with a counter-proposition which must have excited the admiration of the conspirators who were trying to entrap him. He received General Green with great courtesy, heard him with respectful attention, and gave him a letter in which he said that he did not desire any amendment to the Constitution, although he recognized the right of the American people to adopt one; that he believed in maintaining inviolate the rights of each State to control its own domestic institutions; and that he considered the lawless invasion by armed force of the soil of any State or Territory as the gravest of crimes. While those were his sentiments, and while they indicated the policy he should pursue as President, he would not consent to their publication unless the Senators from Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Florida, Louisiana, and Texas would sign a pledge which he had written below his signature to this letter and upon the same piece of paper. It was a pledge "to suspend all action for the dismemberment of the Union until some act deemed to be violative of our rights shall be done by the incoming administration." Thus the responsibility was thrown back upon the representatives of the seceding States, and it is unnecessary to say that Duff Green's mission to Springfield was not considered a success by the rebel leaders. In order to protect himself, Lincoln sent a copy of his letter to Senator Trumbull, calling his attention to the fact that part of its text and all of its sentiment were copied from the Chicago platform.

By this time Lincoln had become thoroughly convinced that the Southern leaders were in earnest and that nothing could prevent the secession of their States, although he continued his efforts to reassure them and to apply every means his ingenuity could suggest to reconcile them to the situation. Notwithstanding all his anxiety, his sense of humor remained, and, as was his habit, he illustrated the situation with a story about a pious man named Brown who was on a committee to erect a bridge over a very dangerous river. They called in an engineer named Jones, who had great confidence in himself, and, after the difficulties had been explained, asked him whether he was able to build the bridge. Jones was a profane man, and replied that he would build a bridge to hell if he could get a contract, or words to that effect. The churchmen were horrified, and when the contractor retired, Brown attempted to allay their indignation by saying all the good things he could remember or invent about Jones. At the same time he was a very cautious man and would not commit himself to any doubtful proposition.

"I know Jones," he said, "and he is a man who will keep his promises. If he agrees to build a bridge to Hades he will do it, although I have my doubts about the 'butments on the infernal side."

The infinite patience exhibited by Lincoln during this period of anxious helplessness, amidst the clamors of office-seekers, the importunities of sincere but timid men who besought him to yield to the South and avoid trouble and bloodshed, the threats of his enemies, the intrigues of the politicians, the conspiracies of the disunionists, showed his strength of character and sense of discretion, and did much to establish him in the confidence of the public. He indulged neither in hope nor fear, he made no boasts, he showed no alarm, he answered neither yea nor nay, but maintained complete self-control and waited for his time to come. To intimate friends who possessed his confidence he never failed to assert his determination to maintain the Union, no matter what it cost, and to resist to the end every proposition for dissolution or dismemberment, but his words were as gentle and as kindly as they were firm.

"The right of a State to secede is not an open or debatable question," he said. "That was fully discussed in Jackson's time and denied not only by him but by the vote of Congress. It is the duty of a President to execute the laws and maintain the existing government. He cannot entertain any proposition for dissolution or dismemberment. He was not elected for any such purpose. As a matter of theoretical speculation it is probably true that if the people, with whom the whole question rests, should become tired of the present government they might change it in the manner prescribed by the Constitution."

At the same time, without being dictatorial, he kept the Republican leaders inspired with his own confidence and determination and endeavored to prevent them from the mistake of yielding to compromise or making concessions. He wrote Representative Washburne with emphasis, "Prevent our friends from demoralizing themselves and their cause by entertaining propositions for compromise of any sort on slavery extensions. There is no possible compromise upon it but what puts us under again, and all our work to do over again. On that point hold firm as a chain of steel."

To Seward he wrote, "I say now, as I have all the while said, that on the question of extending slavery I am inflexible. I am for no compromise which assists or permits the extension of the institution on soil owned by the nation."

He knew what was going on under the direction of the disloyal members of Buchanan's Cabinet. He was aware that the Northern States were being stripped of arms and ammunition and that large quantities of military stores were being sent South where they could easily be seized when the time came. He knew also that disloyal officers of the army were being placed in command of the forts and military posts in the South, and other strategical points, and he asked Washburne to present his respects to General Scott, "and tell him confidentially that I should be obliged to him to be as well prepared as he can either to hold or retake the forts as the case may require after the inauguration."

Mr. Seward and other Republican leaders were apprehensive lest an attempt be made to prevent the counting of the electoral vote and the inauguration of Lincoln. The secessionists controlled both Houses and could have prevented constitutional proceeding if they had chosen to do so, but offered no interference. Mr. Seward always claimed--and he had an excessive degree of admiration for his own acts--that a speech which he made at the Astor House in January deceived the secession leaders into permitting the vote to be canvassed and Lincoln inaugurated. "When I made that speech the electoral vote was not counted," said Mr. Seward with pride, "and I knew it never would be if Jeff Davis believed there would be war. I had to deceive Davis and I did it. That's why I said it would all be settled in sixty days."

The will of the people to make Abraham Lincoln President was carried into effect upon February 13, 1861, when the Congress of the United States met in joint session and declared him duly elected.

Mr. Seward and other Republican leaders had urged Lincoln to come to Washington early in February, but the latter, with his usual judgment and common sense, declined to depart from ordinary usage, and politely explained his own feeling that he ought not to appear in Washington until he had been formally declared President. When that formality had been completed, he bade his old friends good-by and began a memorable journey, taking a circuitous route in order to gratify the people of the Northern States, who wished to see the President-elect, and gathered at every station through which he passed, hoping to hear his voice or catch a glimpse of his face. He made about thirty speeches on the journey, and every time he spoke it was to stimulate the patriotism and the determination of the people to preserve the Union. The address delivered in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, was perhaps the most notable, as it was the longest, because he was deeply moved by the date and the place, for it was Washington's birthday. Among other things, he said,--

"All the political sentiments I entertain have been drawn, so far as I have been able to draw them, from the sentiments which originated in and were given to the world from this hall. I have never had a feeling, politically, that did not spring from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of Independence. It was that which gave promise that in due time the weight would be lifted from the shoulders of all men and that all should have an equal chance. Now, my friends, can this country be saved on that basis? If it can, I will consider myself one of the happiest men in the world if I can help to save it. If it cannot be saved upon that principle, it will be truly awful. But if this country cannot be saved without giving up that principle, I was about to say I would rather be assassinated on this spot than surrender it. Now, in my view of the present aspect of affairs, there is no need of bloodshed and war. There is no necessity for it. I am not in favor of such a course; and I may say in advance that there will be no bloodshed unless it be forced upon the government. The government will not use force unless force is used against it.

"My friends, this is wholly an unprepared speech. I did not expect to be called upon to say a word when I came here. I supposed it was merely to do something towards raising a flag--I may, therefore, have said something indiscreet. [Cries of 'No! no!'] But I have said nothing but what I am willing to live by, and, if it be the pleasure of Almighty God, to die by."

The manner in which Lincoln came into Washington has been the subject of abundant discussion and criticism, but long ago the public mind settled down to a mature opinion that he did exactly right, and that a President-elect of the United States, particularly at such a critical juncture, should not take any risks or omit any precautions for his personal safety. Lincoln himself, long after, declared that he did not then and never did believe that he would have been assassinated, but always thought it wise to run no risk when no risk was necessary. Wisdom justifies such a rule, while the tragic experience of the American people has left no doubt of it. The facts were that an Italian barber named Ferrandini, an outspoken secessionist working at a Baltimore hotel, had submitted to an organization of Southern sympathizers a wild plan for intimidating the Union people of Maryland and the North, which included the blowing up of all the bridges around Washington, the kidnapping of several prominent Republicans, and the assassination of Lincoln, General Scott, and Hamlin, the President and Vice-President elect. This would leave the capital open to the Southern leaders, throw the entire government into confusion, and prevent interference from the North with any revolutionary plans which Jefferson Davis might be contemplating.

For Mrs. Lucy G. Speed, from whose pious hand I accepted the
present of an Oxford Bible twenty years ago. Washington, D.C.
October 3, 1861

A. Lincoln.

From a photograph by Klauber, Louisville, Kentucky. Reproduced by special permission of James B. Speed, Esq.]

Just how much encouragement Ferrandini received from the Southern sympathizers in Baltimore and Washington is not known, but he was the captain of a military company whose members were pledged to prevent the inauguration of Lincoln or any abolitionist President. When Allan Pinkerton learned of his suggestions, he reported the matter at once to Mr. Felton, President of the railroad that connected Baltimore with Philadelphia. Mr. Pinkerton's disclosures were confirmed by detectives employed by Governor Hicks, of Maryland, and the military authorities at Washington, although neither knew that the others were at work on the case. After consultation with his friends, Lincoln decided not to take any chances, and it was arranged that, after the ceremonies at Harrisburg were concluded, he should return to Philadelphia with a single companion and take the regular midnight train to Washington, leaving the rest of his party to continue in the special train according to the original itinerary. Lincoln wore no disguise, no deception was practised upon any one, and the only unusual occurrence that night was the disconnection of the telegraph wires just outside of Philadelphia and Harrisburg, so that, in case the change of plan was discovered, the news could not reach Baltimore until Lincoln had passed through that city. Mr. Seward and Mr. Washburne were the only persons to meet the President-elect at the station, and they had been advised of his coming only a few hours before by Mr. Seward's son, who had come by a previous train from Harrisburg.

The week before the inauguration was a busy one for the President-elect. A great deal of his time was occupied by visits of ceremony and consultations with Republican leaders about the composition of his Cabinet, the terms of his inaugural, and the policy to be pursued by the new administration. March 4 Mr. Buchanan escorted him from the Executive Mansion to the Capitol, where the oath was administered to him by Chief-Justice Taney, and, standing upon a platform at the east portico of the unfinished Capitol, he was introduced to the multitude by his old friend, Edward D. Baker, while Stephen A. Douglas, his opponent for the Presidency, stood at his left hand and held his hat. The public curiosity to see the President-elect reached its climax as he made his appearance. All sorts of stories had been told and believed about his personal appearance. His character had been grossly misrepresented and maligned in both sections of the Union, and the hysterical condition of the country naturally whetted the appetite of men of all parties to see and hear the man who was now the central figure of the republic. The tone of moderation, tenderness, and good-will which breathed through his inaugural speech made a profound impression in his favor, while his voice rang out over the acres of people before him with surprising distinctness, and was heard in the remotest parts of his audience.

No inaugural address before or since has been awaited with so much anxiety and interest. It was expected that in this, his first official utterance, the new President would outline the policy of his administration and determine whether the country should have war or peace. Thousands of men were eager for an intimation of what he intended to say, and an accurate forecast was worth millions of dollars to the stock market; but not a word nor a thought leaked out. The document was written with Lincoln's own hand upon the backs of envelopes and other scraps of paper from time to time as ideas suggested themselves and he determined what to say, and finally, as the time of his departure from Springfield approached, he put them together in a little bare room in a business block over the store of his brother-in-law, where he was accustomed to retire when he wanted to be alone or had to do writing of importance. Only two persons knew of this retreat.