LINCOLN AND TRUMBULL
[Sidenote: 1854.]
To follow closely the chain of events, growing out of the repeal of
the Missouri Compromise at Douglas's instigation, we must now examine
its effect upon the political fortunes of that powerful leader in his
own State.
The extreme length of Illinois from north to south is 385 miles; in
geographical situation it extends from the latitude of Massachusetts
and New York to that of Virginia and Kentucky. The great westward
stream of emigration in the United States had generally followed the
parallels of latitude. The pioneers planted their new homes as nearly
as might be in a climate like the one they had left. In process of
time, therefore, northern Illinois became peopled with settlers from
Northern or free States, bringing their antislavery traditions and
feelings; southern Illinois, with those from Southern or slave States,
who were as naturally pro-slavery. The Virginians and Kentuckians
readily became converts to the thrift and order of free society; but
as a class they never gave up or conquered their intense hatred of
antislavery convictions based on merely moral grounds, which they
indiscriminately stigmatized as "abolitionism." Impelled by this
hatred the lawless element of the community was often guilty of
persecution and violence in minor forms, and in 1837, as already
related, it prompted the murder of Lovejoy in the city of Alton by a
mob, for persisting in his right to publish his antislavery opinions.
This was its gravest crime. But a narrow spirit of intolerance
extending even down to the rebellion kept on the statute books a
series of acts prohibiting the settlement of free blacks in the State.
It was upon this field of radically diverse sentiment that in the year
1854 Douglas's sudden project of repeal fell like a thunderbolt out of
a clear sky. A Democratic Governor had been chosen two years before; a
Democratic Legislature, called together to consider merely local and
economic questions, was sitting in extra session at Springfield. There
was doubt and consternation over the new issue. The Governor and other
prudent partisans avoided a public committal. But the silence could
not be long maintained. Douglas was a despotic party leader, and
President Pierce had made the Nebraska bill an Administration
question. Above all, in Illinois, as elsewhere, the people at once
took up the discussion, and reluctant politicians were compelled to
avow themselves. The Nebraska bill with its repealing clause had been
before the country some three weeks and was yet pending in Congress
when a member of the Illinois Legislature introduced resolutions
indorsing it. Three Democratic State Senators, two from northern and
one from central Illinois, had the courage to rise and oppose the
resolutions in vigorous and startling speeches. They were N. B. Judd,
of Chicago, B. C. Cook, of La Salle, and John M. Palmer, of Macoupin.
This was an unusual party phenomenon and had its share in hastening
the general agitation throughout the State. Only two or three other
members took part in the discussion; the Democrats avoided the issue;
the Whigs hoped to profit by the dissension. There was the usual rush
of amendments and of parliamentary strategy, and the indorsing
resolutions, which finally passed in both Houses in ambiguous language
and by a diminished vote were shorn of much of their political
significance.
Party organization was strong in Illinois, and for the greater part,
as the popular discussion proceeded, the Democrats sustained and the
Whigs opposed the new measure. In the northern counties, where the
antislavery sentiment was general, there were a few successful efforts
to disband the old parties and create a combined opposition under the
new name of Republicans. This, it was soon apparent, would make
serious inroads on the existing Democratic majority. But an alarming
counter-movement in the central counties, which formed the Whig
stronghold, soon began to show itself. Douglas's violent denunciation
of "abolitionists" and "abolitionismn" appealed with singular power to
Whigs from slave States. The party was without a national leader; Clay
had died two years before, and Douglas made skillful quotations from
the great statesman's speeches to bolster up his new propagandism. In
Congress only a little handful of Southern Whigs opposed the repeal,
and even these did not dare place their opposition on antislavery
grounds. And especially the familiar voice and example of the
neighboring Missouri Whigs were given unhesitatingly to the support of
the Douglas scheme. Under these combined influences one or two erratic
but rather prominent Whigs in central Illinois declared their
adherence to Nebraskaism, and raised the hope that the Democrats would
regain in the center and south all they might lose in the northern
half of the State.
[Illustration: LYMAN TRUMBULL]
One additional circumstance had its effect on public opinion. As has
been stated, in the opposition to Douglas's repeal the few avowed
abolitionists and the many pronounced Free-soilers, displaying
unwonted activity, came suddenly into the foreground to rouse and
organize public opinion, making it seem for the moment that they had
really assumed leadership and control in politics. This class of men
had long been held up to public odium. Some of them had, indeed, on
previous occasions used intemperate and offensive language; but more
generally they were denounced upon a gross misrepresentation of their
utterance and purpose. It so happened that they were mostly of
Democratic antecedents, which gave them great influence among
antislavery Democrats, but made their advice and arguments exceedingly
distasteful in strong Whig counties and communities. The fact that
they now became more prudent, conciliatory, and practical in their
speeches and platforms did not immediately remove existing prejudices
against them. A few of these appeared in Illinois. Cassius M. Clay
published a letter in which he advocated the fusion of anti-Nebraska
voters upon "Benton, Seward, Hale, or any other good citizen," and
afterwards made a series of speeches in Illinois. When he came to
Springfield, the Democratic officers in charge refused him the use of
the rotunda of the House, a circumstance, however, which only served
to draw him a larger audience in a neighboring grove. Later in the
summer Joshua B. Giddings and Salmon P. Chase, of Ohio, made a
political tour through the State, and at Springfield the future
Secretary and Chief-Justice addressed an unsympathetic audience of a
few hundreds in the dingy little court-house, almost unheralded, save
by the epithets of the Democratic newspapers. A few local speakers of
this class, of superior address and force, now also began to signalize
themselves by a new-born zeal and an attractive eloquence. Conspicuous
among these was Owen Lovejoy, of northern Illinois, brother of the man
who, for opinion's sake, had been murdered at Alton.
While thus in the northern half of Illinois the public condemnation of
Douglas's repeal was immediate and sweeping, the formation of
opposition to it was tentative and slow in the central and southern
counties, where, among Whigs of Southern birth, it proceeded rather
upon party feeling than upon moral conviction. The new question struck
through party lines in such a manner as to confuse and perplex the
masses. But the issue would not be postponed. The Congressional
elections were to be held in the autumn, and the succession of events
rather than the leadership of politicians gradually shaped the
campaign.
After a most exciting parliamentary struggle the repeal was carried
through Congress in May. Encouraged by this successful domination over
Representatives and Senators, Douglas prepared to force its acceptance
by the people. "I hear men now say," said he, "that they are willing
to acquiesce in it.... It is not sufficient that they shall not seek to
disturb Nebraska and Kansas, but they must acquiesce also in the
principle." [Footnote: Douglas's speech before the Union Democratic
Club of New York, June 3, 1854. New York "Herald," June 5, 1854.] In
the slave States this was an easy task. The most prominent Democrat
who had voted against the Nebraska bill was Thomas H. Benton. The
election in Missouri was held in August, and Benton was easily beaten
by a Whig who was as fierce for repeal as Douglas himself. In the free
States the case was altogether different. In Illinois the Democrats
gradually, but at last with a degree of boldness, shouldered the
dangerous dogma. The main body of the party rallied under Douglas,
excepting a serious defection in the north; on the other hand, the
Whigs in a body declared against him, but were weakened by a
scattering desertion in the center and south. Meanwhile both retained
their distinctive party names and organizations.
Congress adjourned early in August, but Douglas delayed his return to
Illinois. The 1st of September had come, when it was announced he
would return to his home in Chicago. This was an anti-slavery city,
and the current of popular condemnation and exasperation was running
strongly against him. Public meetings of his own former party friends
had denounced him. Street rowdies had burned him in effigy. The
opposition papers charged him with skulking and being afraid to meet
his constituents. On the afternoon of his coming many flags in the
city and on the shipping in the river and harbor were hung at half-
mast. At sunset sundry city bells were tolled for an hour to signify
the public mourning at his downfall. When he mounted the platform at
night to address a crowd of some five thousand listeners he was
surrounded by a little knot of personal friends, but the audience
before him was evidently cold if not actively hostile.
He began his speech, defending his course as well as he could. He
claimed that the slavery question was forever settled by his great
principle of "popular sovereignty," which took it out of Congress and
gave it to the people of the territories to decide as they pleased.
The crowd heard him in sullen silence for three-quarters of an hour,
when their patience gave out, and they began to ply him with
questions. He endured their fire of interrogatory for a little while
till he lost his own temper. Excited outcry followed angry repartee.
Thrust and rejoinder were mingled with cheers and hisses. The mayor,
who presided, tried to calm the assemblage, but the passions of the
crowd would brook no control. Douglas, of short, sturdy build and
imperious and controversial nature, stood his ground courageously,
with flushed and lowering countenance hurling defiance at his
interrupters, calling them a mob, and shaking his fist in their faces;
in reply the crowd groaned, hooted, yelled, and made the din of
Pandemonium. The tumultuous proceeding continued until half-past ten
o'clock at night, when the baffled orator was finally but very
reluctantly persuaded by his friends to give up the contest and leave
the stand. It was trumpeted abroad by the Democratic newspapers that
"in the order-loving, law-abiding, abolition-ridden city of Chicago,
Illinois's great statesman and representative in the United States
Senate was cried down and refused the privilege of speaking"; and as
usual the intolerance produced its natural reaction.
Since Abraham Lincoln's return to Springfield from his single term of
service in Congress, 1847 to 1849, though by no means entirely
withdrawn from politics, his campaigning had been greatly diminished.
The period following had for him been years of work, study, and
reflection. His profession of law had become a deeper science and a
higher responsibility. His practice, receiving his undivided
attention, brought him more important and more remunerative cases.
Losing nothing of his genial humor, his character took on the dignity
of a graver manhood. He was still the center of interest of every
social group he encountered, whether on the street or in the parlor.
Serene and buoyant of temper, cordial and winning of language,
charitable and tolerant of opinion, his very presence diffused a glow
of confidence and kindness. Wherever he went he left an ever-widening
ripple of smiles, jests, and laughter. His radiant good-fellowship was
beloved and sought alike by political opponents and partisan friends.
His sturdy and delicate integrity, recognized far and wide, had long
since won him the blunt but hearty sobriquet of "Honest Old Abe." But
it became noticeable that he was less among the crowd and more in the
solitude of his office or his study, and that he seemed ever in haste
to leave the eager circle he was entertaining.
It is in the midsummer of 1854 that we find him reappearing upon the
stump in central Illinois. The rural population always welcomed his
oratory, and he never lacked invitations to address the public. His
first speeches on the new and all-absorbing topic were made in the
neighboring towns, and in the counties adjoining his own. Towards the
end of August the candidates for Congress in that district were, in
Western phrase, "on the track." Richard Yates, afterwards one of the
famous "war governors," sought a reelection as a Whig. Thomas L.
Harris as a Douglas-Democrat strove to supplant him. Local politics
became active, and Lincoln was sent for from all directions to address
the people. When he went, however, he distinctly announced that he did
not purpose to take up his time with this personal and congressional
controversy. His intention was to discuss the principles of the
Nebraska Bill.
Once launched upon this theme, men were surprised to find him imbued
with an unwonted seriousness. They heard from his lips fewer anecdotes
and more history. Careless listeners who came to laugh at his jokes
were held by the strong current of his reasoning and the flashes of
his earnest eloquence, and were lifted up by the range and tenor of
his argument into a fresher and purer political atmosphere. The new
discussion was fraught with deeper questions than the improvement of
the Sangamon, protective tariffs, or the origin of the Mexican war.
Down through incidents of, legislation, through history of government,
even underlying cardinal maxims of political philosophy, it touched
the very bedrock of primary human rights. Such a subject furnished
material for the inborn gifts of the speaker, his intuitive logic, his
impulsive patriotism, his pure and poetical conception of legal and
moral justice.
Douglas, since his public rebuff at Chicago on September 1, had begun,
after a few days of delay and rest, a tour of speech-making southward
through the State. At these meetings he had at least a respectful
hearing, and as he neared central Illinois the reception accorded him
became more enthusiastic. The chief interest of the campaign finally
centered in a sort of political tournament which took place at the
capital, Springfield, during the first week of October; the State
Agricultural Fair having called together great crowds, and among them
the principal politicians of Illinois. This was Lincoln's home, in a
strong Whig county, and in a section of the State where that party had
hitherto found its most compact and trustworthy forces. As yet Lincoln
had made but a single speech there on the Nebraska question. Of the
Federal appointments under the Nebraska bill, Douglas secured two for
Illinois, one of which, the office of surveyor-general of Kansas, was
given to John Calhoun, the same man who, in the pioneer days twenty
years before, was county surveyor in Sangamon and had employed Abraham
Lincoln as his deputy. He was also the same who three years later
received the sobriquet of "John Candlebox Calhoun," having acquired
unenviable notoriety from his reputed connection with the "Cincinnati
Directory" and "Candlebox" election frauds in Kansas, and with the
famous Lecompton Constitution. Calhoun was still in Illinois doing
campaign work in propagating the Nebraska faith. He was recognized as
a man of considerable professional and political talent, and had made
a speech in Springfield to which Lincoln had replied. It was, however,
merely a casual and local affair and was not described or reported by
the newspapers.
The meetings at the State Fair were of a different character. The
audiences were composed of leading men from nearly all the counties of
the State. Though the discussion of party questions had been going on
all summer with more or less briskness, yet such was the general
confusion in politics that many honest and intelligent voters and even
leaders were still undecided in their opinions. The fair continued
nearly a week. Douglas made a speech on the first day, Tuesday,
October 3. Lincoln replied to him on the following day, October 4.
Douglas made a rejoinder, and on that night and the succeeding day and
night a running fire of debate ensued, in which John Calhoun, Judge
Trumbull, Judge Sidney Breese, Colonel E. D. Taylor, and perhaps
others, took part.
Douglas's speech was doubtless intended by him and expected by his
friends to be the principal and the conclusive argument of the
occasion. But by this time the Whig party of the central counties,
though shaken by the disturbing features of the Nebraska question, had
nevertheless reformed its lines, and assumed the offensive to which
its preponderant numbers entitled it, and resolved not to surrender
either its name or organization. In Sangamon County, its strongest
men, Abraham Lincoln and Stephen T. Logan, were made candidates for
the Legislature. The term of Douglas's colleague in the United States
Senate, General James Shields, was about to expire, and the new
Legislature would choose his successor. To the war of party principles
was therefore added the incentive of a brilliant official prize. The
Whigs were keenly alive to this chance and its influence upon their
possible ascendency in the State.
Lincoln's Whig friends had therefore seen his reappearance in active
discussion with unfeigned pleasure. Of old they knew his peculiar hold
and influence upon the people and his party. His few speeches in the
adjoining counties had shown them his maturing intellect, his
expanding power in debate. Acting upon himself, this renewed practice
on the stump crystallized his thought and brought method to his
argument. The opposition newspapers had accused him of "mousing about
the libraries in the State House." The charge was true. Where others
were content to take statements at second hand, he preferred to verify
citations as well as to find new ones. His treatment of his theme was
therefore not only bold but original.
By a sort of common consent his party looked to him to answer
Douglas's speech. This was no light task, and no one knew it better
than Lincoln. Douglas's real ability was, and remains, unquestioned.
In many qualities of intellect he was truly the "Little Giant" which
popular fancy nicknamed him. It was no mere chance that raised the
Vermont cabinet-maker's apprentice from a penniless stranger in
Illinois in 1833 to a formidable competitor for supreme leadership in
the great Democratic party of the nation in 1852. When after the lapse
of a quarter of a century we measure him with the veteran chiefs whom
he aspired to supplant, we see the substantial basis of his confidence
and ambition. His great error of statesmanship aside, he stands forth
more than the peer of associates who underrated his power and looked
askance at his pretensions. In the six years of perilous party
conflict which followed, every conspicuous party rival disappeared in
obscurity, disgrace, or rebellion. Battling while others feasted,
sowing where others reaped, abandoned by his allies and persecuted by
his friends, Douglas alone emerged from the fight with loyal faith and
unshaken courage, bringing with him through treachery, defeat, and
disaster the unflinching allegiance and enthusiastic admiration of
nearly three-fifths of the rank and file of the once victorious army
of Democratic voters at the north. He had not only proved himself
their most gallant chief, but as a final crown of merit he led his
still powerful contingent of followers to a patriotic defense of the
Constitution and government which some of his compeers put into such
mortal jeopardy.
We find him here at the beginning of this severe conflict in the full
flush of hope and ambition. He was winning in personal manner,
brilliant in debate, aggressive in party strategy. To this he added an
adroitness in evasion and false logic perhaps never equaled, and in
his defense of the Nebraska measure this questionable but convenient
gift was ever his main reliance. Besides, his long official career
gave to his utterances the stamp and glitter of oracular
statesmanship. But while Lincoln knew all Douglas's strong points he
was no less familiar with his weak ones. They had come to central
Illinois about the same time, and had in a measure grown up together.
Socially they were on friendly terms; politically they had been
opponents for twenty years. At the bar, in the Legislature, and on the
stump they had often met and measured strength. Each therefore knew
the temper of the other's steel no less than every joint in his armor.
It was a peculiarity of the early West--perhaps it pertains to all
primitive communities--that the people retained a certain fragment of
the chivalric sentiment, a remnant of the instinct of hero-worship. As
the ruder athletic sports faded out, as shooting-matches, wrestling-
matches, horse-races, and kindred games fell into disuse, political
debate became, in a certain degree, their substitute. But the
principle of championship, while it yielded high honor and
consideration to the victor, imposed upon him the corresponding
obligation to recognize every opponent and accept every challenge. To
refuse any contest, to plead any privilege, would be instant loss of
prestige. This supreme moment in Lincoln's career, this fateful
turning of the political tide, found him fully prepared for the new
battle, equipped by reflection and research to permit himself to be
pitted against the champion of Democracy--against the very author of
the raging storm of parties; and it displays his rare self-confidence
and consciousness of high ability, to venture to attack such an
antagonist.
[Sidenote: Correspondence of the "Missouri Republican," October 6,
1854.]
Douglas made his speech, according to notice, on the first day of the
fair, Tuesday, October 3. "I will mention," said he, in his opening
remarks, "that it is understood by some gentlemen that Mr. Lincoln, of
this city, is expected to answer me. If this is the understanding, I
wish that Mr. Lincoln would step forward and let us arrange some plan
upon which to carry out this discussion." Mr. Lincoln was not there at
the moment, and the arrangement could not then be made. Unpropitious
weather had brought the meeting to the Representatives' Hall in the
State House, which was densely packed. The next day found the same
hall filled as before to hear Mr. Lincoln. Douglas occupied a seat
just in front of him, and in his rejoinder he explained that "my
friend Mr. Lincoln expressly invited me to stay and hear him speak to-
day, as he heard me yesterday, and to answer and defend myself as best
I could. I here thank him for his courteous offer." The occasion
greatly equalized the relative standing of the champions. The familiar
surroundings, the presence and hearty encouragement of his friends,
put Lincoln in his best vein. His bubbling humor, his perfect temper,
and above all the overwhelming current of his historical arraignment
extorted the admiration of even his political enemies. "His speech was
four hours in length" wrote one of these, "and was conceived and
expressed in a most happy and pleasant style, and was received with
abundant applause. At times he made statements which brought Senator
Douglas to his feet, and then good-humored passages of wit created
much interest and enthusiasm." All reports plainly indicate that
Douglas was astonished and disconcerted at this unexpected strength of
argument, and that he struggled vainly through a two hours' rejoinder
to break the force of Lincoln's victory in the debate. Lincoln had
hitherto been the foremost man in his district. That single effort
made him the leader on the new question in his State.
The fame of this success brought Lincoln urgent calls from all the
places where Douglas was expected to speak. Accordingly, twelve days
afterwards, October 16, they once more met in debate, at Peoria.
Lincoln, as before, gave Douglas the opening and closing speeches,
explaining that he was willing to yield this advantage in order to
secure a hearing from the Democratic portion of his listeners. The
audience was a large one, but not so representative in its character
as that at Springfield. The occasion was made memorable, however, by
the fact that when Lincoln returned home he wrote out and published
his speech. We have therefore the revised text of his argument, and
are able to estimate its character and value. Marking as it does with
unmistakable precision a step in the second period of his intellectual
development, it deserves the careful attention of the student of his
life.
After the lapse of more than a quarter of a century the critical
reader still finds it a model of brevity, directness, terse diction,
exact and lucid historical statement, and full of logical propositions
so short and so strong as to resemble mathematical axioms. Above all
it is pervaded by an elevation of thought and aim that lifts it out of
the commonplace of mere party controversy. Comparing it with his later
speeches, we find it to contain not only the argument of the hour, but
the premonition of the broader issues into which the new struggle was
destined soon to expand.
The main, broad current of his reasoning was to vindicate and restore
the policy of the fathers of the country in the restriction of
slavery; but running through this like a thread of gold was the
demonstration of the essential injustice and immorality of the system.
He said:
This declared indifference but, as I must think, covert zeal for the
spread of slavery, I cannot but hate. I hate it because of the
monstrous injustice of slavery itself. I hate it because it deprives
our republican example of its just influence in the world; enables the
enemies of free institutions with plausibility to taunt us as
hypocrites; causes the real friends of freedom to doubt our sincerity;
and especially because it forces so many really good men among
ourselves into an open war with the very fundamental principles of
civil liberty, criticizing the Declaration of Independence and
insisting that there is no right principle of action but self-
interest.
* * * * *
The doctrine of self-government is right,--absolutely and eternally
right,--but it has no just application as here attempted. Or perhaps I
should rather say that whether it has such just application, depends
upon whether a negro is not, or is, a man. If he is not a man, in that
case he who is a man may as a matter of self-government do just what
he pleases with him. But if the negro is a man, is it not to that
extent a total destruction of self-government to say that he too shall
not govern himself? When the white man governs himself, that is self-
government; but when he governs himself and also governs another man,
that is more than self-government--that is despotism.
* * * * *
What I do say is, that no man is good enough to govern another man
without that other's consent.
* * * * *
The master not only governs the slave without his consent, but he
governs him by a set of rules altogether different from those which he
prescribes for himself. Allow all the governed an equal voice in the
government; that, and that only, is self-government.
* * * * *
Slavery is founded in the selfishness of man's nature--opposition to
it, in his love of justice. These principles are an eternal
antagonism; and when brought into collision so fiercely as slavery
extension brings them, shocks and throes and convulsions must
ceaselessly follow. Repeal the Missouri Compromise--repeal all
compromise--repeal the Declaration of Independence--repeal all past
history--still you cannot repeal human nature.
* * * * *
I particularly object to the new position which the avowed principle
of this Nebraska law gives to slavery in the body politic. I object to
it because it assumes that there can be moral right in the enslaving
of one man by another. I object to it as a dangerous dalliance for a
free people,--a sad evidence that feeling prosperity, we forget
right,--that liberty as a principle we have ceased to revere.
* * * * *
Little by little, but steadily as man's march to the grave, we have
been giving up the old for the new faith. Near eighty years ago we
began by declaring that all men are created equal; but now from that
beginning we have run down to the other declaration that for some men
to enslave others is a "sacred right of self-government." These
principles cannot stand together. They are as opposite as God and
mammon.
* * * * *
Our Republican robe is soiled and trailed in the dust. Let us repurify
it. Let us turn and wash it white, in the spirit if not the blood of
the Revolution. Let us turn slavery from its claims of "moral right"
back upon its existing legal rights, and its arguments of "necessity."
Let us return it to the position our fathers gave it, and there let it
rest in peace. Let us readopt the Declaration of Independence, and the
practices and policy which harmonize with it. Let North and South--let
all Americans--let all lovers of liberty everywhere--join in the great
and good work. If we do this, we shall not only have saved the Union,
but we shall have so saved it, as to make and to keep it forever
worthy of the saving. We shall have so saved it that the succeeding
millions of free, happy people, the world over, shall rise up and call
us blessed to the latest generations.
[Sidenote: 1864.]
The election which, occurred on November 7 resulted disastrously for
Douglas. It was soon found that the Legislature on joint ballot would
probably give a majority for Senator against Shields, the incumbent,
or any other Democrat who had supported the Nebraska bill. Who might
become his successor was more problematical. The opposition majority
was made up of anti-Nebraska Democrats, of what were then called
"abolitionists" (Lovejoy had been elected among these), and finally of
Whigs, who numbered by far the largest portion. But these elements,
except on one single issue, were somewhat irreconcilable. In this
condition of uncertainty a host of candidates sprung up. There was
scarcely a member of Congress from Illinois--indeed, scarcely a
prominent man in the State of any party--who did not conceive the
flattering dream that he himself might become the lucky medium of
compromise and harmony.
Among the Whigs, though there were other aspirants, Lincoln, whose
speeches had contributed so much to win the election, was the natural
and most prominent candidate. According to Western custom, he
addressed a short note to most of the Whig members elect and to other
influential members of the party asking their support. Generally the
replies were not only affirmative but cordial and even enthusiastic.
But a dilemma now arose. Lincoln had been chosen one of the members
from Sangamon County by some 650 majority. The Constitution of
Illinois contained a clause disqualifying members of the Legislature
and certain other designated officials from being elected to the
Senate. Good lawyers generally believed this provision repugnant to
the Constitution of the United States, and that the qualifications of
Senators and Representatives therein prescribed could be neither
increased nor diminished by a State. But the opposition had only a
majority of one or two. If Lincoln resigned his membership in the
Legislature this might destroy the majority. If he refused to resign,
such refusal might carry some member to the Democrats.
[Illustration: OWEN LOVEJOY.]
At last, upon full deliberation, Lincoln resigned his seat, relying
upon the six or seven hundred majority in Sangamon County to elect
another Whig. It was a delusive trust. A reaction in the Whig ranks
against "abolitionism" suddenly set in. A listless apathy succeeded
the intense excitement and strain of the summer's canvass. Local
rivalries forced the selection of an unpopular candidate. Shrewdly
noting all these signs the Democrats of Sangamon organized what is
known in Western politics as a "still-hunt." They made a feint of
allowing the special election to go by default. They made no
nomination. They permitted an independent Democrat, known under the
sobriquet of "Steamboat Smith," to parade his own name. Up to the very
day of election they gave no public sign, although they had in the
utmost secrecy instructed and drilled their precinct squads. On the
morning of election the working Democrats appeared at every poll,
distributing tickets bearing the name of a single candidate not before
mentioned by any one. They were busy all day long spurring up the
lagging and indifferent, and bringing the aged, the infirm, and the
distant voters in vehicles. Their ruse succeeded. The Whigs were taken
completely by surprise, and in a remarkably small total vote,
McDaniels, Democrat, was chosen by about sixty majority. The Whigs in
other parts of the State were furious at the unlooked-for result, and
the incident served greatly to complicate the senatorial canvass.
Nevertheless it turned out that even after this loss the opposition to
Douglas would have a majority on joint ballot. But how unite this
opposition made up of Whigs, of Democrats, and of so-called
abolitionists? It was just at that moment in the impending revolution
of parties when everything was doubt, distrust, uncertainty. Only the
abolitionists, ever aggressive on all slavery issues, were ready to
lead off in new combinations, but nobody was willing to encounter the
odium of acting with them. They, too, were present at the State Fair,
and heard Lincoln reply to Douglas. At the close of that reply, and
just before Douglas's rejoinder, Lovejoy had announced to the audience
that a Republican State Convention would be immediately held in the
Senate Chamber, extending an invitation to delegates to join in it.
But the appeal fell upon unwilling ears. Scarcely a corporal's guard
left the discussion. The Senate Chamber presented a discouraging array
of empty benches. Only some twenty-six delegates were there to
represent the whole State of Illinois. Nothing daunted, they made
their speeches and read their platform to each other. [Transcriber's
Note: Lengthy footnote (1) relocated to chapter end.] Particularly in
their addresses they praised Lincoln's great speech which they had
just heard, notwithstanding his declarations differed so essentially
from their new-made creed. "Ichabod raved," said the Democratic organ
in derision, "and Lovejoy swelled, and all indorsed the sentiments of
that speech." Not content with this, without consent or consultation,
they placed Lincoln's name in the list of their State Central
Committee.
[Sidenote: Lincoln to Codding, Nov. 27, 1854. MS.]
Matters remained in this attitude until their chairman called a
meeting and notified Lincoln to attend. In reply he sent the following
letter of inquiry: "While I have pen in hand allow me to say that I
have been perplexed to understand why my name was placed on that
committee. I was not consulted on the subject, nor was I apprised of
the appointment until I discovered it by accident two or three weeks
afterwards. I suppose my opposition to the principle of slavery is as
strong as that of any member of the Republican party; but I had also
supposed that the extent to which I feel authorized to carry that
opposition practically was not at all satisfactory to that party. The
leading men who organized, that party were present on the 4th of
October at the discussion between Douglas and myself at Springfield
and had full opportunity to not misunderstand my position. Do I
misunderstand them?"
Whether this letter was ever replied to is uncertain, though
improbable. No doubt it led to conferences during the meeting of the
Legislature, early in the year 1855, when the senatorial question came
on for decision. It has been suggested that Lincoln made dishonorable
concessions of principle to get the votes of Lovejoy and his friends.
The statement is too absurd to merit serious contradiction. The real
fact is that Mr. Giddings, then in Congress, wrote to Lovejoy and
others to support Lincoln. Various causes delayed the event, but
finally, on February 8, 1855, the Legislature went into joint ballot.
A number of candidates were put in nomination, but the contest
narrowed itself down to three. Abraham Lincoln was supported by the
Whigs and Free-soilers; James Shields by the Douglas-Democrats. As
between these two, Lincoln would easily have succeeded, had not five
anti-Nebraska Democrats refused under any circumstances to vote for
him or any other Whig, [Footnote: "All that remained of the anti-
Nebraska force, excepting Judd, Cook, Palmer, Baker, and Allen, of
Madison, and two or three of the secret Matteson men, would go into
caucus, and I could get the nomination of that caucus. But the three
Senators and one of the two Representatives above named 'could never
vote for a Whig,' and this incensed some twenty Whigs to 'think' they
would never vote for the man of the five."--Lincoln to the Hon. E. B.
Washburne, February 9, 1855. MS.] and steadily voted during six
ballots for Lyman Trumbull. The first vote stood: Lincoln, 45;
Shields, 41; Trumbull, 5; scattering, 8. Two or three Whigs had thrown
away their votes on this first ballot, and though they now returned
and adhered to him, the demoralizing example was imitated by various
members of the coalition. On the sixth ballot the vote stood: Lincoln,
36; Shields, 41; Trumbull, 8; scattering, 13.
At this stage of the proceedings the Douglas-Democrats executed a
change of front, and, dropping Shields, threw nearly their full
strength, 44 votes, for Governor Joel A. Matteson. The maneuver was
not unexpected, for though the Governor and the party newspapers had
hitherto vehemently asserted he was not a candidate, the political
signs plainly contradicted such statement. Matteson had assumed a
quasi-independent position; kept himself non-commital on Nebraska, and
opposed Douglas's scheme of tonnage duties to improve Western rivers
and harbors. Like the majority of Western men he had risen from humble
beginnings, and from being an emigrant, farmer, merchant, and
manufacturer, had become Governor. In office he had devoted himself
specially to the economical and material questions affecting Illinois,
and in this role had a wide popularity with all classes and parties.
The substitution of his name was a promising device. The ninth ballot
gave him 47 votes. The opposition under the excitement of non-partisan
appeals began to break up. Of the remaining votes Lincoln received 15,
Trumbull 35, scattering, 1. In this critical moment Lincoln exhibited
a generosity and a sagacity above the range of the mere politician's
vision. He urged upon his Whig friends and supporters to drop his own
name and join without hesitation or conditions in the election of
Trumbull. [Transcriber's Note: Lengthy footnote (2) relocated to
chapter end.] This was putting their fidelity to a bitter trial. Upon
every issue but the Nebraska bill Trumbull still avowed himself an
uncompromising Democrat. The faction of five had been stubborn to
defiance and disaster. They would compel the mountain to go to
Mahomet. It seemed an unconditional surrender of the Whig party. But
such was Lincoln's influence upon his adherents that at his request
they made the sweeping sacrifice, though with lingering sorrow. The
proceedings had wasted away a long afternoon of most tedious suspense.
Evening had come; the gas was lighted in the hall, the galleries were
filled with eager women, the lobbies were packed with restless and
anxious men. All had forgotten the lapse of hours, their fatigue and
their hunger, in the absorption of the fluctuating contest. The
roll-call of the tenth ballot still showed 15 votes for Lincoln, 36
for Trumbull, 47 for Matteson. Amid an excitement which was becoming
painful, and in a silence where spectators scarcely breathed, Judge
Stephen T. Logan, Lincoln's nearest and warmest friend, arose and
announced the purpose of the remaining Whigs to decide the contest,
whereupon the entire fifteen changed their votes to Trumbull. This
gave him the necessary number of fifty-one, and elected him a Senator
of the United States.
At that early day an election to the United States Senate must have
seemed to Lincoln a most brilliant political prize, the highest,
perhaps, to which he then had any hopes of ever attaining. To school
himself to its loss with becoming resignation, to wait hopefully
during four years for another opportunity, to engage in the dangerous
and difficult task of persuading his friends to leave their old and
join a new political party only yet dimly foreshadowed, to watch the
chances of maintaining his party leadership, furnished sufficient
occupation for the leisure afforded by the necessities of his law
practice. It is interesting to know that he did more; that amid the
consideration of mere personal interests he was vigilantly pursuing
the study of the higher phases of the great moral and political
struggle on which the nation was just entering, little dreaming,
however, of the part he was destined to act in it. A letter of his
written to a friend in Kentucky in the following year shows us that he
had nearly reached a maturity of conviction on the nature of the
slavery conflict--his belief that the nation could not permanently
endure half slave and half free--which he did not publicly express
until the beginning of his famous senatorial campaign of 1858:
[Sidenote: MS.]
SPRINGFIELD, ILLS., August 15, 1855
Hon. GEO. ROBERTSON, Lexington, Ky.
MY DEAR SIR: The volume you left for me has been received. I am really
grateful for the honor of your kind remembrance, as well as for the
book. The partial reading I have already given it has afforded me much
of both pleasure and instruction. It was new to me that the exact
question which led to the Missouri Compromise had arisen before it
arose in regard to Missouri, and that you had taken so prominent a
part in it. Your short but able and patriotic speech on that occasion
has not been improved upon since by those holding the same views; and,
with all the lights you then had, the views you took appear to me as
very reasonable.
You are not a friend of slavery in the abstract. In that speech you
spoke of "the peaceful extinction of slavery" and used other
expressions indicating your belief that the thing was, at some time,
to have an end. Since then we have had thirty-six years of experience;
and this experience has demonstrated, I think, that there is no
peaceful extinction of slavery in prospect for us. The signal failure
of Henry Clay and other good and great men, in 1849, to effect
anything in favor of gradual emancipation in Kentucky, together with a
thousand other signs, extinguishes that hope utterly. On the question
of liberty, as a principle, we are not what we have been. When we were
the political slaves of King George, and wanted to be free, we called
the maxim that "all men are created equal" a self-evident truth; but
now when we have grown fat, and have lost all dread of being slaves
ourselves, we have become so greedy to be _masters_ that we call
the same maxim "a self-evident lie." The Fourth of July has not quite
dwindled away; it is still a great day for burning fire-crackers!
That spirit which desired the peaceful extinction of slavery has
itself become extinct with the occasion and the _men_ of the
Revolution. Under the impulse of that occasion, nearly half the States
adopted systems of emancipation at once; and it is a significant fact
that not a single State has done the like since. So far as peaceful,
voluntary emancipation is concerned, the condition of the negro slave
in America, scarcely less terrible to the contemplation of a free
mind, is now as fixed and hopeless of change for the better as that of
the lost souls of the finally impenitent. The Autocrat of all the
Russias will resign his crown and proclaim his subjects free
republicans, sooner than will our American masters voluntarily give up
their slaves.
Our political problem now is, "Can we as a nation continue together
_permanently_--_forever_--half slave, and half free?" The
problem is too mighty for me. May God in his mercy superintend the
solution. Your much obliged friend, and humble servant,
A. LINCOLN.
The reader has doubtless already noted in his mind the curious
historical coincidence which so soon followed the foregoing
speculative affirmation. On the day before Lincoln's first
inauguration as President of the United States, the "Autocrat of all
the Russias," Alexander II., by imperial decree emancipated his serfs;
while six weeks after the inauguration, the "American masters," headed
by Jefferson Davis, began the greatest war of modern times, to
perpetuate and spread the institution of slavery.
[Relocated Footnote (1): Their resolutions were radical for that day,
but not so extreme as was generally feared. On the slavery question
they declared their purpose:
To restore Kansas and Nebraska to the position of free territories;
that as the Constitution of the United States vests in the States and
not in Congress the power to legislate for the rendition of fugitives
from labor, to repeal and entirely abrogate the fugitive slave law; to
restrict slavery to those States in which it exists; to prohibit the
admission of any more slave States; to abolish slavery in the District
of Columbia; to exclude slavery from all territories over which the
general Government has exclusive jurisdiction, and finally to resist
the acquirement of any more territories unless slavery shall have been
therein forever prohibited.]
[Relocated Footnote (2): "In the meantime our friends, with a view of
detaining our expected bolters, had been turning from me to Trumbull
till 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
not possibly 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 five. I regret my defeat moderately, but am
not nervous about it."--Lincoln to Washburne, February 9, 1855. MS.]