ON the 11th of February, 1861, the arrangements for Mr. Lincoln's
departure from Springfield were completed. It was intended to occupy the
time remaining between that date and the 4th of March with a grand tour
from State to State and city to city. One Mr. Wood, "recommended by
Senator Seward," was the chief manager. He provided special trains to be
preceded by pilot engines all the way through.
It was a gloomy day: heavy clouds floated overhead, and a cold rain was
falling. Long before eight o'clock, a great mass of people had collected
at the station of the Great Western Railway to witness the event of the
day. At precisely five minutes before eight, Mr. Lincoln, preceded by
Mr. Wood, emerged from a private room in the dépôt building, and passed
slowly to the car, the people falling back respectfully on either side,
and as many as possible shaking his hands. Having finally reached the
train, he ascended the rear platform, and, facing about to the throng
which had closed around him, drew himself up to his full height, removed
his hat, and stood for several seconds in profound silence. His eye
roved sadly over that sea of upturned faces; and he thought he read in
them again the sympathy and friendship which he had often tried, and
which he never needed more than he did then. There was an unusual quiver
in his lip, and a still more unusual tear on his shrivelled cheek. His
solemn manner, his long silence, were as full of melancholy eloquence
as any words he could have uttered. What did he think of? Of the mighty
changes which had lifted him from the lowest to the highest estate on
earth? Of the weary road which had brought him to this lofty summit?
Of his poor mother lying beneath the tangled underbrush in a distant
forest? Of that other grave in the quiet Concord cemetery? Whatever
the particular character of his thoughts, it is evident that they were
retrospective and painful. To those who were anxiously waiting to catch
words upon which the fate of the nation might hang, it seemed long until
he had mastered his feelings sufficiently to speak. At length he began
in a husky tone of voice, and slowly and impressively delivered his
farewell to his neighbors. Imitating his example, every man in the crowd
stood with his head uncovered in the fast-falling rain.
"Friends,--No one who has never been placed in a like position can
understand my feelings at this hour, nor the oppressive sadness I feel
at this parting. For more than a quarter of a century I have lived among
you, and during all that time I have received nothing but kindness at
your hands. Here I have lived from my youth, until now I am an old man.
Here the most sacred ties of earth were assumed. Here all my children
were born; and here one of them lies buried. To you, dear friends, I owe
all that I have, all that I am. All the strange, checkered past seems to
crowd now upon my mind. To-day I leave you. I go to assume a task more
difficult than that which devolved upon Washington. Unless the great
God, who assisted him, shall be with and aid me, I must fail; but if the
same omniscient mind and almighty arm that directed and protected him
shall guide and support me, I shall not fail,--I shall succeed. Let us
all pray that the God of our fathers may not forsake us now. To him I
commend you all. Permit me to ask, that, with equal security and faith,
you will invoke his wisdom and guidance for me. With these few words I
must leave you: for how long I know not. Friends, one and all, I must
now bid you an affectionate farewell."
"It was a most impressive scene," said the editor of "The Journal." "We
have known Mr. Lincoln for many years; we have heard him speak upon
a hundred different occasions; but we never saw him so profoundly
affected, nor did he ever utter an address which seemed to us so full
of simple and touching eloquence, so exactly adapted to the occasion, so
worthy of the man and the hour."
At eight o'clock the train rolled out of Springfield amid the cheers of
the populace. Four years later a funeral train, covered with the emblems
of splendid mourning, rolled into the same city, bearing a discolored
corpse, whose obsequies were being celebrated in every part of the
civilized world.
Along with Mr. Lincoln's family in the special car were Gov. Yates,
Ex-Gov. Moore, Dr. Wallace (Mr. Lincoln's brother-in-law), Mr. Judd,
Mr. Browning, Judge Davis, Col. Ellsworth, Col. Lamon, and private
secretaries Nicolay and Hay.
It has been asserted that an attempt was made to throw the train off the
track between Springfield and Indianapolis, and also that a hand-grenade
was found on board at Cincinnati, but no evidence of the fact is given
in either case, and none of the Presidential party ever heard of these
murderous doings until they read of them in some of the more imaginative
reports of their trip.
Full accounts of this journey were spread broadcast over the country
at the time, and have been collected and printed in various books. But,
except for the speeches of the President elect, those accounts possess
no particular interest at this day; and of the speeches we shall present
here only such extracts as express his thoughts and feelings about the
impending civil war.
In the heat of the late canvass, he had written the following private
letter:--
Springfield, Ill., Aug. 15, 1860.
John B. Fry, Esq.
My dear Sir,--Yours of the 9th, enclosing the letter of Hon. John M.
Botts, was duly received. The latter is herewith returned, according to
your request. It contains one of the many assurances I receive from
the South, that in no probable event will there be any very formidable
effort to break up the Union. The people of the South have too much of
good sense and good temper to attempt the ruin of the government, rather
than see it administered as it was administered by the men who made it.
At least, so I hope and believe.
I thank you both for your own letter and a sight of that of Mr. Botts.
Yours very truly,
A. Lincoln.
The opinion expressed in the letter as to the probability of war does
not appear to have undergone any material change or modification during
the eventful months which had intervened; for he expressed it in much
stronger terms at almost every stage of his progress to Washington.
At Toledo he said,--
"I am leaving you on an errand of national importance, attended, as you
are aware, with considerable difficulties. Let us believe, as some poet
has expressed it, 'Behind the cloud the sun is shining still.'"
At Indianapolis:--
"I am here to thank you for this magnificent welcome, and still more for
the very generous support given by your State to that political cause,
which, I think, is the true and just cause of the whole country, and the
whole world. Solomon says, 'There is a time to keep silence;' and when
men wrangle by the mouth, with no certainty that they mean the same
thing while using the same words, it perhaps were as well if they would
keep silence.
"The words 'coercion' and 'invasion' are much used in these days, and
often with some temper and hot blood. Let us make sure, if we can, that
we do not misunderstand the meaning of those who use them. Let us get
the exact definitions of these words, not from dictionaries, but from
the men themselves, who certainly deprecate the things they would
represent by the use of the words.
"What, then, is coercion? What is invasion? Would the marching of an
army into South Carolina, without the consent of her people, and with
hostile intent toward them, be invasion? I certainly think it would;
and it would be coercion also, if the South Carolinians were forced to
submit. But if the United States should merely hold and retake its
own forts and other property, and collect the duties on foreign
importations, or even withhold the mails from places where they were'
habitually violated, would any or all of these things be invasion or
coercion? Do our professed lovers of the Union, who spitefully resolve
that they will resist coercion and invasion, understand that such
things as these, on the part of the United States, would be coercion or
invasion of a State? If so, their idea of means to preserve the object
of their great affection would seem to be exceedingly thin and airy. If
sick, the little pills of the homoeopathist would be much too large for
them to swallow. In their view, the Union, as a family relation,
would seem to be no regular marriage, but rather a sort of 'free-love'
arrangement, to be maintained on passional attraction."
At Columbus:--
"Allusion has been made to the interest felt in relation to the policy
of the new administration. In this, I have received from some a degree
of credit for having kept silence, from others some depreciation. I
still think I was right. In the varying and repeatedly-shifting scenes
of the present, _without a precedent which could enable me to judge
for the past_, it has seemed fitting, that, before speaking upon the
difficulties of the country, I should have gained a view of the whole
field. To be sure, after all, I would be at liberty to modify and change
the course of policy as future events might make a change necessary.
"I have not maintained silence from any want of real anxiety. _It is
a good thing that there is no more than anxiety, for there is nothing
going wrong. It is a consoling circumstance, that when we look out there
is nothing that really hurts anybody. We entertain different views upon
political questions; but nobody is suffering any thing. This is a most
consoling circumstance, and from it I judge that all we want is time
and patience, and a reliance on that God who has never forsaken this
people_."
At Pittsburg:--
"Notwithstanding the troubles across the river, _there is really no
crisis springing from any thing in the Government itself. In plain
words, there is really no crisis, except an artificial one._ What is
there now to warrant the condition of affairs presented by our friends
'over the river'? Take even their own view of the questions involved,
and there is nothing to justify the course which they are pursuing. _I
repeat it, then, there is no crisis, except such a one as may be gotten
up at any time by turbulent men, aided by designing politicians_. My
advice, then, under such circumstances, is _to keep cool. If the great
American people will only keep their temper on both sides of the line,
the trouble will come to an end, and the question which now distracts
the country will be settled just as surely as all other difficulties
of like character which have originated in this Government have been
adjusted. Let the people on both sides keep their self-possession, and,
just as other clouds have cleared away in due time, so will this; and
this great nation shall continue to prosper as heretofore_."
At Cleveland:--
"Frequent allusion is made to the excitement at present existing in our
national politics, and it is as well that I should also allude to it
here. _I think that there is no occasion for any excitement. The crisis,
as it is called, is altogether an artificial crisis.... As I said
before, this crisis is all artificial! It has no foundation in fact. It
was not 'argued up,' as the saying is, and cannot be argued down. Let it
alone, and it will go down itself_."
Before the Legislature of New York:--
"When the time comes, according to the custom of the Government, I shall
speak, and speak as well as I am able for the good of the present and of
the future of this country,--for the good of the North and of the South,
for the good of one and of the other, and of all sections of it. In the
mean time, _if we have patience, if we maintain our equanimity, though
some may allow themselves to run off in a burst of passion_, I still
have confidence that the Almighty Ruler of the Universe, through the
instrumentality of this great and intelligent people, can and will bring
us through this difficulty, as he has heretofore brought us through
all preceding difficulties of the country. Relying upon this, and
again thanking you, as I forever shall, in my heart, for this generous
reception you have given me, I bid you farewell."
In response to the Mayor of New York City, who had said, "To you,
therefore, chosen under the forms of the Constitution, as the head
of the Confederacy, we look for a restoration of fraternal relations
between the States,--only to be accomplished by peaceful and
conciliatory means, aided by the wisdom of Almighty God," Mr. Lincoln
said,--
"In regard to the difficulties that confront us at this time, and of
which you have seen fit to speak so becomingly and so justly, I can only
say that I agree with the sentiments expressed."
At Trenton:--
"I shall endeavor to take the ground I deem most just to the North, the
East, the West, the South, and the whole country. I take it, I hope, in
good temper,--certainly with no malice towards any section. _I shall do
all that may be in my power to promote a peaceful settlement of all our
difficulties. The man does not live who is more devoted to peace than
I am,--none who would do more to preserve it. But it maybe necessary to
put the foot down firmly_. And if I do my duty, and do right, you
will sustain me: will you not? Received, as I am, by the members of
a legislature, the majority of whom do not agree with me in political
sentiments, I trust that I may have their assistance in piloting the
Ship of State through this voyage, surrounded by perils as it is; for,
if it should suffer shipwreck now, there will be no pilot ever needed
for another voyage."
At Philadelphia:--
"It is true, as your worthy mayor has said, that there is anxiety
among the citizens of the United States at this time. I deem it a happy
circumstance that this dissatisfied portion of our fellow-citizens do
not point us to any thing in which they are being injured, or are about
to be injured; _for which reason I have felt all the while justified in
concluding that the crisis, the panic, the anxiety, of the country at
this time is artificial._ If there be those who differ with me upon
this subject, they have not pointed out the substantial difficulty
that exists. I do not mean to say that an artificial panic may not do
considerable harm: that it has done such I do not deny. The hope that
has been expressed by your mayor, that I may be able to restore peace,
harmony, and prosperity to the country, is most worthy of him; and happy
indeed will I be if I shall be able to verify and fulfil that hope. I
promise you, in all sincerity, that I bring to the work a sincere heart.
Whether I will bring a head equal to that heart, will be for future
times to determine. It were useless for me to speak of details or plans
now: I shall speak officially next Monday week, if ever. If I should not
speak then, it were useless for me to do so now."
At Philadelphia again:--
"Now, in my view of the present aspect of affairs, there need be no
bloodshed or 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 blood
shed unless it be forced upon the Government; and then it will be
compelled to act in self-defence._"
At Harrisburg:--
"I recur for a moment but to repeat some words uttered at the hotel
in regard to what has been said about the military support which the
General Government may expect from the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania in a
proper emergency. _To guard against any possible mistake, do I recur
to this. It is not with any pleasure that I contemplate the possibility
that a necessity may arise in this country for the use of the military
arm_. While I am exceedingly gratified to see the manifestation upon
your streets of your military force here, and exceedingly gratified at
your promise here to use that force upon a proper emergency; while I
make these acknowledgments, I desire to repeat, in order to _preclude
any possible misconstruction, that I do most sincerely hope that we
shall have no use for them; that it will never become their duty to
shed Hood, and most especially never to shed fraternal blood_. I promise
that, so far as I have wisdom to direct, if so painful a result shall in
any wise be brought about, it shall be through no fault of mine."
Whilst Mr. Lincoln, in the midst of his suite and attendants, was being
borne in triumph through the streets of Philadelphia, and a countless
multitude of people were shouting themselves hoarse, and jostling
and crushing each other around his carriage-wheels, Mr. Felton, the
President of the Philadelphia, Wilmington, and Baltimore Railway, was
engaged with a private detective discussing the details of an alleged
conspiracy to murder him at Baltimore. Some months before, Mr. Felton,
apprehending danger to the bridges along his line, had taken this man
into his pay, and sent him to Baltimore to spy out and report any plot
that might be found for their destruction. Taking with him a couple of
other men and a woman, the detective went about his business with the
zeal which necessarily marks his peculiar profession. He set up as a
stock-broker, under an assumed name, opened an office, and became
a vehement Secessionist. His agents were instructed to act with the
duplicity which such men generally use, to be rabid on the subject of
"Southern rights," to suggest all manner of crimes in vindication of
them; and if, by these arts, corresponding sentiments should be elicited
from their victims, the "job" might be considered as prospering. Of
course they readily found out what everybody else knew,--that Maryland
was in a state of great alarm; that her people were forming military
associations, and that Gov. Hicks was doing his utmost to furnish them
with arms, on condition that the arms, in case of need, should be turned
against the Federal Government. Whether they detected any plan to burn
bridges or not, the chief detective does not relate; but it appears
that he soon deserted that inquiry, and got, or pretended to get, upon a
scent that promised a heavier reward. Being intensely ambitious to
shine in the professional way, and something of a politician besides,
it struck him that it would be a particularly fine thing to discover a
dreadful plot to assassinate the President elect; and he discovered it
accordingly. It was easy to get that far: to furnish tangible proofs of
an imaginary conspiracy was a more difficult matter. But Baltimore was
seething with political excitement; numerous strangers from the far
South crowded its hotels and boarding-houses; great numbers of mechanics
and laborers out of employment encumbered its streets; and everywhere
politicians, merchants, mechanics, laborers, and loafers were engaged
in heated discussions about the anticipated war, and the probability of
Northern troops being marched through Maryland to slaughter and pillage
beyond the Potomac. It would seem like an easy thing to beguile a few
individuals of this angry and excited multitude into the expression of
some criminal desire; and the opportunity was not wholly lost, although
the limited success of the detective under such favorable circumstances
is absolutely wonderful. He put his "shadows" upon several persons, whom
it suited his pleasure to suspect; and the "shadows" pursued their work
with the keen zest and the cool treachery of their kind. They reported
daily to their chief in writing, as he reported in turn to his employer.
These documents are neither edifying nor useful: they prove nothing
but the baseness of the vocation which gave them existence. They were
furnished to Mr. Herndon in full, under the impression that partisan
feeling had extinguished in him the love of truth, and the obligations
of candor, as it had in many writers who preceded him on the same
subject-matter. They have been carefully and thoroughly read, analyzed,
examined, and Compared, with an earnest and conscientious desire to
discover the truth, if, perchance, any trace of truth might be in them.
The process of investigation began with a strong bias in favor of the
conclusion at which the detective had arrived. For ten years the author
implicitly believed in the reality of the atrocious plot which these
spies were supposed to have detected and thwarted; and for ten years he
had pleased himself with the reflection that he also had done something
to defeat the bloody purpose of the assassins. It was a conviction which
could scarcely have been overthrown by evidence less powerful than the
detective's weak and contradictory account of his own case. In that
account there is literally nothing to sustain the accusation, and much
to rebut it. It is perfectly manifest that there was no conspiracy,--no
conspiracy of a hundred, of fifty, of twenty, of three; no definite
purpose in the heart of even one man to murder Mr. Lincoln at Baltimore.
The reports are all in the form of personal narratives, and for the most
relate when the spies went to bed, when they rose, where they ate, what
saloons and brothels they visited, and what blackguards they met and
"drinked" with. One of them "shadowed" a loud-mouthed, drinking fellow,
named Luckett, and another, a poor scapegrace and braggart, named
Hilliard. These wretches "drinked" and talked a great deal, hung about
bars, haunted disreputable houses, were constantly half-drunk, and
easily excited to use big and threatening words by the faithless
protestations and cunning management of the spies. Thus Hilliard was
made to say that he thought a man who should act the part of Brutus in
these times would deserve well of his country; and Luckett was induced
to declare that he knew a man who would kill Lincoln. At length the
great arch-conspirator--the Brutus, the Orsini, of the New World, to
whom Luckett and Hilliard, the "national volunteers," and all such, were
as mere puppets--condescended to reveal himself in the most obliging and
confiding manner. He made no mystery of his cruel and desperate scheme.
He did not guard it as a dangerous secret, or choose his confidants with
the circumspection which political criminals, and especially assassins,
have generally thought proper to observe. Very many persons knew what
he was about, and levied on their friends for small sums--five, ten, and
twenty dollars--to further the "captain's" plan. Even Luckett was deep
enough in the awful plot to raise money for it; and when he took one of
the spies to a public bar-room, and introduced him to the "captain," the
latter sat down and talked it all over without the slightest reserve.
When was there ever before such a loud-mouthed conspirator, such a
trustful and innocent assassin! His name was Ferrandina, his occupation
that of a barber, his place of business beneath Barnum's Hotel, where
the sign of the bloodthirsty villain still invites the unsuspecting
public to come in for a shave.
"Mr. Luckett," so the spy relates, "said that he was not going home this
evening; and if I would meet him at Barr's saloon, on South Street, he
would introduce me to Ferrandina.
"This was unexpected to me; but I determined to take the chances, and
agreed to meet Mr. Luckett at the place named at 7, p.m. Mr. Luckett
left about 2.30, p.m.; and I went to dinner.
"I was at the office in the afternoon in hopes that Mr. Felton might
call, but he did not; and at 6.15, p.m., I went to supper. After
supper, I went to Barr's saloon, and found Mr. Luckett and several
other gentlemen there. He asked me to drink, and introduced me to Capt.
Ferrandina and Capt. Turner. He eulogized me very highly as a neighbor
of his, and told Ferrandina that I was the gentleman who had given the
twenty-five dollars he (Luckett) had given to Ferrandina.
"The conversation at once got into politics; and Ferrandina, who is
a fine-looking, intelligent-appearing person, became very excited.
He shows the Italian in, I think, a very marked degree; and, although
excited, yet was cooler than what I had believed was the general
characteristic of Italians. He has lived South for many years, and is
thoroughly imbued with the idea that the South must rule; that they
(Southerners) have been outraged in their rights by the election of
Lincoln, and freely justified resorting to any means to prevent Lincoln
from taking his seat; and, as he spoke, his eyes fairly glared and
glistened, and his whole frame quivered, but he was fully conscious
of all he was doing. He is a man well calculated for controlling and
directing the ardent-minded: he is an enthusiast, and believes, that, to
use his own words, 'murder of any kind is justifiable and right to
save the rights of the Southern people.' In all his views he was ably
seconded by Capt. Turner.
"Capt. Turner is an American; but although very much of a gentleman, and
possessing warm Southern feelings, he is not by any means so dangerous a
man as Ferrandina, as his ability for exciting others is less powerful;
but that he is a bold and proud man there is no doubt, as also that he
is entirely under the control of Ferrandina. In fact, it could not be
otherwise: for even I myself felt the influence of this man's strange
power; and, wrong though I knew him to be, I felt strangely unable to
keep my mind balanced against him.
"Ferrandina said, 'Never, never, shall Lincoln be President. His life
(Ferrandina's) was of no consequence: he was willing to give it up for
Lincoln's; he would sell it for that Abolitionist's; and as Orsini had
given his life for Italy, so was he (Ferrandina) ready to die for his
country, and the rights of the South; and, said Ferrandina, turning to
Capt. Turner, 'We shall all die together: we shall show the North that
we fear them not. Every man, captain,' said he, 'will on that day prove
himself a hero. The first shot fired, the main traitor (Lincoln) dead,
and all Maryland will be with us, and the South shall be free; and the
North must then be ours.'--'Mr. Hutchins,' said Ferrandina, 'if I alone
must do it, I shall: Lincoln shall die in this city.'
"Whilst we were thus talking, we (Mr. Luckett, Turner, Ferrandina, and
myself) were alone in one corner of the barroom; and, while talking,
two strangers had got pretty near us. Mr. Luckett called Ferrandina's
attention to this, and intimated that they were listening; and we went
up to the bar, drinked again at my expense, and again retired to another
part of the room, at Ferrandina's request, to see if the strangers would
again follow us: whether by accident or design, they again got near
us; but of course we were not talking of any matter of consequence.
Ferrandina said he suspected they were spies, and suggested that he had
to attend a secret meeting, and was apprehensive that the two strangers
might follow him; and, at Mr. Luckett's request, I remained with him
(Luckett) to watch the movements of the strangers. I assured Ferrandina,
that, if they would attempt to follow him, that we would whip them.
"Ferrandina and Turner left to attend the meeting; and, anxious as I was
to follow them myself, I was obliged to remain with Mr. Luckett to watch
the strangers, which we did for about fifteen minutes, when Mr. Luckett
said that he should go to a friend's to stay over night, and I left for
my hotel, arriving there at about 9, p.m., and soon retired."
It is in a secret communication between hireling spies and paid
informers that these ferocious sentiments are attributed to the poor
knight of the soap-pot. No disinterested person would believe the
story upon such evidence; and it will appear hereafter, that even the
detective felt that it was too weak to mention among his strong points
at that decisive moment, when he revealed all he knew to the President
and his friends. It is probably a mere fiction. If it had had any
foundation in fact, we are inclined to believe that the sprightly and
eloquent barber would have dangled at a rope's end long since. He would
hardly have been left to shave and plot in peace, while the members of
the Legislature, the police-marshal, and numerous private gentlemen,
were locked up in Federal prisons. When Mr. Lincoln was actually slain,
four years later, and the cupidity of the detectives was excited
by enormous rewards, Ferrandina was totally unmolested. But even if
Ferrandina really said all that is here imputed to him, he did no more
than many others around him were doing at the same time. He drank and
talked, and made swelling speeches; but he never took, nor seriously
thought of taking, the first step toward the frightful tragedy he is
said to have contemplated.
The detectives are cautious not to include in the supposed plot to
murder any person of eminence, power, or influence. Their game is all
of the smaller sort, and, as they conceived, easily taken,--witless
vagabonds like Hilliard and Luckett, and a barber, whose calling
indicates his character and associations. They had no fault to find with
the governor of the State: he was rather a lively trimmer, to be sure,
and very anxious to turn up at last on the winning side; but it was
manifestly impossible that one in such exalted station could meditate
murder. Yet, if they had pushed their inquiries with an honest desire to
get at the truth, they might have found much stronger evidence against
the governor than that which they pretend to have found against the
barber. In the governor's case the evidence is documentary, written,
authentic,--over his own hand, clear and conclusive as pen and ink could
make it. As early as the previous November, Gov. Hicks had written the
following letter; and, notwithstanding its treasonable and murderous
import, the writer became conspicuously loyal before spring, and lived
to reap splendid rewards and high honors under the auspices of the
Federal Government, as the most patriotic and devoted Union man in
Maryland. The person to whom the letter was addressed was equally
fortunate; and, instead of drawing out his comrades in the field to
"kill Lincoln and his men," he was sent to Congress by power exerted
from Washington at a time when the administration selected the
representatives of Maryland, and performed all his duties right loyally
and acceptably. Shall one be taken, and another left? Shall Hicks go to
the Senate, and Webster to Congress, while the poor barber is held to
the silly words which he is alleged to have sputtered out between drinks
in a low groggery, under the blandishments and encouragements of an
eager spy, itching for his reward?
State of Maryland, Executive Chamber, Annapolis, Nov. 9, 1860.
Hon. E. H. Webster.
My dear Sir,--I have pleasure in acknowledging receipt of your favor
introducing a very clever gentleman to my acquaintance (though a
Demo'). I regret to say that we have, at this time, no arms on hand to
distribute, but assure you at the earliest possible moment your company
shall have arms: they have complied with all required on their part. We
have some delay, in consequence of contracts with Georgia and Alabama,
ahead of us: we expect at an early day an additional supply, and of
first received your people shall be furnished. Will they be good men to
send out to kill Lincoln and his men? if not, suppose the arms would be
better sent South.
How does late election sit with you? 'Tis too bad. Harford, nothing to
reproach herself for.
Your obedient servant,
Thos. H. Hicks.
With the Presidential party was Hon. Norman B. Judd: he was supposed
to exercise unbounded influence over the new President; and with him,
therefore, the detective opened communications. At various places along
the route, Mr. Judd was given vague hints of the impending danger,
accompanied by the usual assurances of the skill and activity of the
patriots who were perilling their lives in a rebel city to save that of
the Chief Magistrate. When he reached New York, he was met by the woman
who had originally gone with the other spies to Baltimore. She had
urgent messages from her chief,--messages that disturbed Mr. Judd
exceedingly. The detective was anxious to meet Mr. Judd and the
President; and a meeting was accordingly arranged to take place at
Philadelphia.
Mr. Lincoln reached Philadelphia on the afternoon of the 21st. The
detective had arrived in the morning, and improved the interval to
impress and enlist Mr. Felton. In the evening he got Mr. Judd and Mr.
Felton into his room at the St. Louis Hotel, and told them all he
had learned. He dwelt at large on the fierce temper of the Baltimore
Secessionists; on the loose talk he had heard about "fire-balls or
hand-grenades;" on a "privateer" said to be moored somewhere in the
bay; on the organization called National Volunteers; on the fact, that,
eaves-dropping at Barnum's Hotel, he had overheard Marshal Kane intimate
that he would not supply a police-force on some undefined occasion, but
what the occasion was he did not know. He made much of his miserable
victim, Hilliard, whom he held up as a perfect type of the class from
which danger was to be apprehended; but, concerning "Captain" Ferrandina
and his threats, he said, according to his own account, not a single
word. He had opened his case, his whole case, and stated it as strongly
as he could. Mr. Judd was very much startled, and was sure that it would
be extremely imprudent for Mr. Lincoln to pass through Baltimore in
open daylight, according to the published programme. But he thought the
detective ought to see the President himself; and, as it was wearing
toward nine o'clock, there was no time to lose. It was agreed that the
part taken by the detective and Mr. Felton should be kept secret from
every one but the President. Mr. Sanford, President of the American
Telegraph Company, had also been co-operating in the business; and the
same stipulation was made with regard to him.
Mr. Judd went to his own room at the Continental, and the detective
followed. The crowd in the hotel was very dense, and it took some time
to get a message to Mr. Lincoln. But it finally reached him, and he
responded in person. Mr. Judd introduced the detective; and the latter
told his story over again, with a single variation: this time he
mentioned the name of Ferrandina along with Hilliard's, but gave no more
prominence to one than to the other.
Mr. Judd and the detective wanted Lincoln to leave for Washington that
night. This he flatly refused to do. He had engagements with the people,
he said,--to raise a flag over Independence Hall in the morning, and to
exhibit himself at Harrisburg in the afternoon; and these engagements
he would not break in any event. But he would raise the flag, go to
Harrisburg, "get away quietly" in the evening, and permit himself to be
carried to Washington in the way they thought best. Even this, however,
he conceded with great reluctance. He condescended to cross-examine the
detective on some parts of his narrative, but at no time did he seem in
the least degree alarmed. He was earnestly requested not to communicate
the change of plan to any member of his party, except Mr. Judd, nor
permit even a suspicion of it to cross the mind of another. To this
he replied, that he would be compelled to tell Mrs. Lincoln; "and he
thought it likely that she would insist upon W. H. Lamon going with him;
but, aside from that, no one should know."
In the mean time, Mr. Seward had also discovered the conspiracy. He
despatched his son to Philadelphia to warn the President elect of the
terrible plot into whose meshes he was about to run. Mr. Lincoln turned
him over to Judd, and Judd told him they already knew all about it.
He went away with just enough information to enable his father to
anticipate the exact moment of Mr. Lincoln's surreptitious arrival in
Washington.
Early on the morning of the 22d, Mr. Lincoln raised the flag over
Independence Hall, and departed for Harrisburg. On the way, Mr. Judd
"gave him a full and precise detail of the arrangements that had been
made" the previous night. After the conference with the detective, Mr.
Sanford, Col. Scott, Mr. Felton, railroad and telegraph officials, had
been sent for, and came to Mr. Judd's room. They occupied nearly the
whole of the night in perfecting the plan. It was finally understood
that about six o'clock the next evening Mr. Lincoln should slip away
from the Jones Hotel, at Harrisburg, in company with a single member
of his party. A special car and engine would be provided for him on
the track outside the dépôt. All other trains on the road would be
"sidetracked" until this one had passed. Mr. Sanford would forward
skilled "telegraph-climbers," and see that all the wires leading out
of Harrisburg were cut at six o'clock, and kept down until it was known
that Mr. Lincoln had reached Washington in safety. The detective would
meet Mr. Lincoln at the West Philadelphia dépôt with a carriage, and
conduct him by a circuitous route to the Philadelphia, Wilmington,
and Baltimore dépôt. Berths for four would be pre-engaged in the
sleeping-car attached to the regular midnight train for Baltimore. This
train Mr. Felton would cause to be detained until the conductor should
receive a package, containing important "government despatches,"
addressed to "E. J. Allen, Willard's Hotel, Washington." This package
was made up of old newspapers, carefully wrapped and sealed, and
delivered to the detective to be used as soon as Mr. Lincoln was
lodged in the car. Mr. Lincoln approved of the plan, and signified his
readiness to acquiesce. Then Mr. Judd, forgetting the secrecy which the
spy had so impressively enjoined, told Mr. Lincoln that the step he was
about to take was one of such transcendent importance, that he thought
"it should be communicated to the other gentlemen of the party." Mr.
Lincoln said, "You can do as you like about that." Mr. Judd now changed
his seat; and Mr. Nicolay, whose suspicions seem to have been aroused by
this mysterious conference, sat down beside him, and said, "Judd,
there is something up. What is it, if it is proper that I should
know?"--"George," answered Judd, "there is no necessity for your knowing
it. One man can keep a matter better than two."
Arrived at Harrisburg, and the public ceremonies and speech-making over,
Mr. Lincoln retired to a private parlor in the Jones House; and Mr. Judd
summoned to meet him Judge Davis, Col. Lamon, Col. Sumner, Major Hunter,
and Capt. Pope. The three latter were officers of the regular army,
and had joined the party after it had left Springfield. Judd began the
conference by stating the alleged fact of the Baltimore conspiracy,
how it was detected, and how it was proposed to thwart it by a midnight
expedition to Washington by way of Philadelphia. It was a great surprise
to most of those assembled. Col. Sumner was the first to break silence.
"That proceeding," said he, "will be a damned piece of cowardice." Mr.
Judd considered this a "pointed hit," but replied that "that view of
the case had already been presented to Mr. Lincoln." Then there was a
general interchange of opinions, which Sumner interrupted by saying,
"I'll get a squad of cavalry, sir, and _cut_ our way to Washington,
sir!"--"Probably before that day comes," said Mr. Judd, "the
inauguration day will have passed. It is important that Mr. Lincoln
should be in Washington that day." Thus far Judge Davis had expressed no
opinion, but "had put various questions to test the truthfulness of the
story." He now turned to Mr. Lincoln, and said, "You personally heard
the detective's story. You have heard this discussion. What is your
judgment in the matter?"--"I have listened," answered Mr. Lincoln,
"to this discussion with interest. I see no reason, no good reason, to
change the programme; and I am for carrying it out as arranged by Judd."
There was no longer any dissent as to the plan itself; but one question
still remained to be disposed of. Who should accompany the President on
his perilous ride? Mr. Judd again took the lead, declaring that he and
Mr. Lincoln had previously determined that but one man ought to go, and
that Col. Lamon had been selected as the proper person. To this Sumner
violently demurred. "_I_ have undertaken," he exclaimed, "to see Mr.
Lincoln to Washington."
Mr. Lincoln was hastily dining when a close carriage was brought to the
side-door of the hotel. He was called, hurried to his room, changed his
coat and hat, and passed rapidly through the hall and out of the door.
As he was stepping into the carriage, it became manifest that Sumner was
determined to get in also. "Hurry with him," whispered Judd to Lamon,
and at the same time, placing his hand on Sumner's shoulder, said aloud,
"One moment, colonel!" Sumner turned around; and, in that moment, the
carriage drove rapidly away. "A madder man," says Mr. Judd, "you never
saw."
Mr. Lincoln and Col. Lamon got on board the car without discovery or
mishap. Besides themselves, there was no one in or about the car but Mr.
Lewis, general superintendent of the Pennsylvania Central Railroad,
and Mr. Franciscus, superintendent of the division over which they were
about to pass. As Mr. Lincoln's dress on this occasion has been much
discussed, it may be as well to state that he wore a soft, light felt
hat, drawn down over his face when it seemed necessary or convenient,
and a shawl thrown over his shoulders, and pulled up to assist in
disguising his features when passing to and from the carriage. This was
all there was of the "Scotch cap and cloak," so widely celebrated in the
political literature of the day.
At ten o'clock they reached Philadelphia, and were met by the detective,
and one Mr. Kinney, an under-official of the Philadelphia, Wilmington,
and Baltimore Railroad. Lewis and Franciscus bade Mr. Lincoln adieu. Mr.
Lincoln, Col. Lamon, and the detective seated themselves in a carriage,
which stood in waiting, and Mr. Kinney got upon the box with the driver.
It was a full hour and a half before the Baltimore train was to start;
and Mr. Kinney found it necessary "to consume the time by driving
northward in search of some imaginary person."
On the way through Philadelphia, Mr. Lincoln told his companions about
the message he had received from Mr. Seward. This new discovery was
infinitely more appalling than the other. Mr. Seward had been informed
"that about _fifteen thousand men_ were organized to prevent his
(Lincoln's) passage through Baltimore, and that arrangements were made
by these parties _to blow up the railroad track, fire the train._" &c.
In view of these unpleasant circumstances, Mr. Seward recommended a
change of route. Here was a plot big enough to swallow up the little
one, which we are to regard as the peculiar property of Mr. Felton's
detective. Hilliard, Ferrandina, and Luckett disappear among the
"fifteen thousand;" and their maudlin and impotent twaddle about the
"abolition tyrant" looks very insignificant beside the bloody massacre,
conflagration, and explosion now foreshadowed.
As the moment for the departure of the Baltimore train drew near, the
carriage paused in the dark shadows of the dépôt building. It was not
considered prudent to approach the entrance. The spy passed in first,
and was followed by Mr. Lincoln and Col. Lamon. An agent of the former
directed them to the sleeping-car, which they entered by the rear door.
Mr. Kinney ran forward, and delivered to the conductor the "important
package" prepared for the purpose; and in three minutes the train was
in motion. The tickets for the whole party had been procured beforehand.
Their berths were ready, but had only been preserved from invasion
by the statement, that they were retained for a sick man and his
attendants. The business had been managed very adroitly by the female
spy, who had accompanied her employer from Baltimore to Philadelphia to
assist him in this the most delicate and important affair of his life.
Mr. Lincoln got into his bed immediately; and the curtains were drawn
together. When the conductor came around, the detective handed him the
"sick man's" ticket; and the rest of the party lay down also. None of
"our party appeared to be sleepy," says the detective; "but we all
lay quiet, and nothing of importance transpired." "Mr. Lincoln is very
homely," said the woman in her "report," "and so very tall, that he
could not lay straight in his berth." During the night Mr. Lincoln
indulged in a joke or two, in an undertone; but, with that exception,
the "two sections" occupied by them were perfectly silent. The detective
said he had men stationed at various places along the road to let
him know "if all was right;" and he rose and went to the platform
occasionally to observe their signals, but returned each time with a
favorable report.
At thirty minutes after three, the train reached Baltimore. One of the
spy's assistants came on board, and informed him "in a whisper that all
was right." The woman got out of the car. Mr. Lincoln lay close in his
berth; and in a few moments the car was being slowly drawn through the
quiet streets of the city toward the Washington dépôt. There again there
was another pause, but no sound more alarming than the noise of shifting
cars and engines. The passengers, tucked away on their narrow shelves,
dozed on as peacefully as if Mr. Lincoln had never been born, until
they were awakened by the loud strokes of a huge club against a
night-watchman's box, which stood within the dépôt and close to the
track. It was an Irishman, trying to arouse a sleepy ticket-agent,
comfortably ensconced within. For twenty minutes the Irishman pounded
the box with ever-increasing vigor, and, at each report of his blows,
shouted at the top of his voice, "Captain! it's four o'clock! it's four
o'clock!" The Irishman seemed to think that time had ceased to run at
four o'clock, and, making no allowance for the period consumed by his
futile exercises, repeated to the last his original statement that it
was four o'clock. The passengers were intensely amused; and their jokes
and laughter at the Irishman's expense were not lost upon the occupants
of the "two sections" in the rear. "Mr. Lincoln," says the detective,
appeared "to enjoy it very much, and made several witty remarks, showing
that he was as full of fun as ever."
In due time the train sped out of the suburbs of Baltimore; and the
apprehensions of the President and his friends diminished with each
welcome revolution of the wheels. At six o'clock the dome of the Capitol
came in sight; and a moment later they rolled into the long, unsightly
building, which forms the Washington dépôt. They passed out of the car
unobserved, and pushed along with the living stream of men and women
toward the outer door. One man alone in the great crowd seemed to watch
Mr. Lincoln with special attention. Standing a little on one side, he
"looked very sharp at him," and, as he passed, seized hold of his hand,
and said in a loud tone of voice, "Abe, you can't play that on me." The
detective and Col. Lamon were instantly alarmed. One of them raised his
fist to strike the stranger; but Mr. Lincoln caught his arm, and said,
"Don't strike him! don't strike him! It is Washburne. Don't you know
him?" Mr. Seward had given to Mr. Washburne a hint of the information
received through his son; and Mr. Washburne knew its value as well as
another. For the present, the detective admonished him to keep quiet;
and they passed on together. Taking a hack, they drove towards Willard's
Hotel. Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Washburne, and the detectives got out in the
street, and approached the ladies' entrance; while Col. Lamon drove on
to the main entrance, and sent the proprietor to meet his distinguished
guest at the side door. A few minutes later Mr. Seward arrived, and
was introduced to the company by Mr. Washburne. He spoke in very strong
terms of the great danger which Mr. Lincoln had so narrowly escaped, and
most heartily applauded the wisdom of the "secret passage." "I informed
Gov. Seward of the nature of the information I had," says the detective,
"and that I had no information of any large organization in Baltimore;
but the Governor reiterated that he had conclusive evidence of this."
It soon became apparent that Mr. Lincoln wished to be left alone.
He said he was "rather tired;" and, upon this intimation, the party
separated. The detective went to the telegraph-office, and loaded the
wires with despatches, containing the pleasing intelligence that "Plums"
had brought "Nuts" through in safety. In the spy's cipher the President
elect was reduced to the undignified title of "Nuts."
That same day Mr. Lincoln's family and suite passed through Baltimore on
the special train intended for him. They saw no sign of any disposition
to burn them alive, or to blow them up with gunpowder, but went their
way unmolested and very happy.
Mr. Lincoln soon learned to regret the midnight ride. His friends
reproached him, his enemies taunted him. He was convinced that he
had committed a grave mistake in yielding to the solicitations of a
professional spy and of friends too easily alarmed. He saw that he
had fled from a danger purely imaginary, and felt the shame and
mortification natural to a brave man under such circumstances. But
he was not disposed to take all the responsibility to himself, and
frequently upbraided the writer for having aided and assisted him to
demean himself at the very moment in all his life when his behavior
should have exhibited the utmost dignity and composure.
The news of his surreptitious entry into Washington occasioned much and
varied comment throughout the country; but important events followed it
in such rapid succession, that its real significance was soon lost sight
of. Enough that Mr. Lincoln was safely at the capital, and in a few days
would in all probability assume the power confided to his hands.
If before leaving Springfield he had become weary of the pressure upon
him for office, he found no respite on his arrival at the focus of
political intrigue and corruption. The intervening days before his
inauguration were principally occupied in arranging the construction
of his Cabinet. He was pretty well determined on this subject before he
reached Washington; but in the minds of the public, beyond the generally
accepted fact, that Mr. Seward was to be the Premier of the new
administration, all was speculation and conjecture. From the
circumstances of the case, he was compelled to give patient ear to
the representations which were made him in favor of or against various
persons or parties, and to hold his final decisions till the last
moment, in order that he might decide with a full view of the
requirements of public policy and party fealty.
The close of this volume is not the place to enter into a detailed
history of the circumstances which attended the inauguration of Mr.
Lincoln's administration, nor of the events which signalized the close
of Mr. Buchanan's. The history of the former cannot be understood
without tracing its relation to that of the latter, and both demand more
impartial consideration than either has yet received.
The 4th of March, 1861, at last arrived; and at noon on that day the
administration of James Buchanan was to come to a close, and that of
Abraham Lincoln was to take its place. Mr. Lincoln's feelings, as the
hour approached which was to invest him with greater responsibilities
than had fallen upon any of his predecessors, may readily be imagined by
the readers of the foregoing pages. If he saw in his elevation another
step towards the fulfilment of that destiny which at times he believed
awaited him, the thought served but to tinge with a peculiar, almost
poetic sadness, the manner in which he addressed himself to the solemn
duties of the hour.
[Illustration: Norman B. Judd 579]
The morning opened pleasantly. At an early hour he gave his inaugural
address its final revision. Extensive preparations had been made to
render the occasion as impressive as possible. By nine o'clock the
procession had begun to form, and at eleven o'clock it commenced to move
toward Willard's Hotel. Mr. Buchanan was still at the Capitol, signing
bills till the official term of his office expired. At half-past twelve
he called for Mr. Lincoln; and, after a delay of a few moments, both
descended, and entered the open barouche in waiting for them. Shortly
after, the procession took up its line of march for the Capitol.
Apprehensions existed, that possibly some attempt might be made to
assassinate Mr. Lincoln; and accordingly his carriage was carefully
surrounded by the military and the Committee of Arrangements. By order
of Gen. Scott, troops were placed at various points about the city,
as well as on the tops of some of the houses along the route of the
procession.
The Senate remained in session till twelve o'clock, when Mr.
Breckinridge, in a few well-chosen words, bade the senators farewell,
and then conducted his successor, Mr. Hamlin, to the chair. At this
moment, members and members elect of the House of Representatives, and
the Diplomatic Corps, entered the chamber. At thirteen minutes to one,
the Judges of the Supreme Court were announced; and on their entrance,
headed by the venerable Chief-Justice Taney, all on the floor arose,
while they moved slowly to the seats assigned them at the right of
the Vice-President, bowing to that officer as they passed. At fifteen
minutes past one, the Marshal-in-Chief entered the chamber ushering in
the President and President elect. Mr. Lincoln looked pale, and wan, and
anxious. In a few moments, the Marshal led the way to the platform at
the eastern portico of the Capitol, where preparations had been made
for the inauguration ceremony; and he was followed by the Judges of
the Supreme Court, Sergeant-at-Arms of the Senate, the Committee
of Arrangements, the President and President elect, Vice-President,
Secretary of the Senate, Senators, Diplomatic Corps, Heads of
Departments, and others in the chamber.
On arriving at the platform, Mr. Lincoln was introduced to the assembly,
by the Hon. E. D. Baker, United States Senator from Oregon. Stepping
forward, in a manner deliberate and impressive, he read in a clear,
penetrating voice, the following
INAUGURAL ADDRESS.
Fellow-Citizens of the United States:--
In compliance with a custom as old as the Government itself, I appear
before you to address you briefly, and to take, in your presence, the
oath prescribed by the Constitution of the United States to be taken by
the President before he enters on the execution of his office.
I do not consider it necessary, at present, for me to discuss those
matters of administration about which there is no special anxiety or
excitement. Apprehension seems to exist among the people of the Southern
States, that, by the accession of a Republican administration, their
property and their peace and personal security are to be endangered.
There has never been any reasonable cause for such apprehension. Indeed,
the most ample evidence to the contrary has all the while existed, and
been open to their inspection. It is found in nearly all the published
speeches of him who now addresses you. I do but quote from one of
those speeches, when I declare, that "I have no purpose, directly or
indirectly, to interfere with the institution of slavery in the States
where it exists." I believe I have no lawful right to do so; and I have
no inclination to do so. Those who nominated and elected me did so with
the full knowledge that I had made this and many similar declarations,
and had never recanted them. And, more than this, they placed in the
platform, for my acceptance, and as a law to themselves and to me, the
clear and emphatic resolution which I now read:--
"Resolved, That the maintenance inviolate of the rights of the States,
and especially the right of each State to order and control its own
domestic institutions according to its own judgment exclusively, is
essential to that balance of power on which the perfection and endurance
of our political fabric depend; and we denounce the lawless invasion by
armed force of the soil of any State or Territory, no matter under what
pretext, as among the gravest of crimes."
I now reiterate these sentiments; and, in doing so, I only press upon
the public attention the most conclusive evidence of which the case is
susceptible, that the property, peace, and security of no section are to
be in any wise endangered by the now incoming administration.
I add, too, that all the protection which, consistently with the
Constitution and the laws, can be given, will be cheerfully given to all
the States, when lawfully demanded, for whatever cause, as cheerfully to
one section as to another.
There is much controversy about the delivering up of fugitives from
service or labor. The clause I now read is as plainly written in the
Constitution as any other of its provisions:--
"No person held to service or labor in one State under the laws thereof,
escaping into another, shall, in consequence of any law or regulation
therein, be discharged from such service or labor, but shall be
delivered up on claim of the party to whom such service or labor may be
due."
It is scarcely questioned that this provision was intended by those
who made it for the reclaiming of what we call fugitive slaves; and the
intention of the lawgiver is the law.
All members of Congress swear their support to the whole
Constitution,--to this provision as well as any other. To the
proposition, then, that slaves whose cases come within the terms of this
clause "shall be delivered up," their oaths are unanimous. Now, if they
would make the effort in good temper, could they not, with nearly equal
unanimity, frame and pass a law by means of which to keep good that
unanimous oath?
There is some difference of opinion whether this clause should be
enforced by national or by State authority; but surely that difference
is not a very material one. If the slave is to be surrendered, it can be
of but little consequence to him or to others by which authority it is
done; and should any one in any case be content that this oath shall go
unkept on a merely unsubstantial controversy as to how it shall be kept?
Again, in any law upon this subject, ought not all the safeguards of
liberty known in civilized and humane jurisprudence to be introduced, so
that a free man be not, in any case, surrendered as a slave? And might
it not be well at the same time to provide by law for the enforcement of
that clause in the Constitution which guarantees that "the citizens of
each State shall be entitled to all the privileges and immunities of
citizens in the several States"?
I take the official oath to-day with no mental reservations, and with no
purpose to construe the Constitution or laws by any hypercritical rules;
and, while I do not choose now to specify particular acts of Congress as
proper to be enforced, I do suggest, that it will be much safer for all,
both in official and private stations, to conform to and abide by all
those acts which stand unrepealed, than to violate any of them, trusting
to find impunity in having them held to be unconstitutional.
It is seventy-two years since the first inauguration of a President
under our national Constitution. During that period, fifteen different
and very distinguished citizens have in succession administered the
executive branch of the government. They have conducted it through many
perils, and generally with great success. Yet, with all this scope for
precedent, I now enter upon the same task, for the brief constitutional
term of four years, under great and peculiar difficulties.
A disruption of the Federal Union, heretofore only menaced, is now
formidably attempted. I hold, that, in the contemplation of universal
law and of the Constitution, the Union of these States is perpetual.
Perpetuity is implied, if not expressed, in the fundamental law of all
national governments. It is safe to assert that no government proper
ever had a provision in its organic law for its own termination.
Continue to execute all the express provisions of our national
Constitution, and the Union will endure forever; it being impossible
to destroy it, except by some action not provided for in the instrument
itself.
Again, if the United States be not a government proper, but an
association of States in the nature of a contract merely, can it, as a
contract, be peaceably unmade by less than all the parties who made it?
One party to a contract may violate it,--break it, so to speak; but does
it not require all to lawfully rescind it? Descending from these general
principles, we find the proposition that in legal contemplation the
Union is perpetual confirmed by the history of the Union itself.
The Union is much older than the Constitution. It was formed, in fact,
by the Articles of Association in 1774. It was matured and continued in
the Declaration of Independence in 1776. It was further matured, and
the faith of all the then thirteen States expressly plighted and engaged
that it should be perpetual, by the Articles of Confederation, in 1778;
and, finally, in 1787, one of the declared objects for ordaining and
establishing the Constitution was to form a more perfect Union. But, if
the destruction of the Union by one or by a part only of the States
be lawfully possible, the Union is less than before, the Constitution
having lost the vital element of perpetuity.
It follows from these views that no State, upon its own mere motion,
can lawfully get out of the Union; that resolves and ordinances to that
effect are legally void; and that acts of violence within any State or
States against the authority of the United States, are insurrectionary
or revolutionary according to circumstances.
I therefore consider, that, in view of the Constitution and the laws,
the Union is unbroken; and, to the extent of my ability, I shall take
care, as the Constitution itself expressly enjoins upon me, that the
laws of the Union shall be faithfully executed in all the States.
Doing this, which I deem to be only a simple duty on my part, I shall
perfectly perform it, so far as is practicable, unless my rightful
masters, the American people, shall withhold the requisite power, or in
some authoritative manner direct the contrary.
I trust this will not be regarded as a menace, but only as the declared
purpose of the Union that it will constitutionally defend and maintain
itself.
In doing this, there need be no bloodshed or violence; and there shall
be none unless it is forced upon the national authority.
The power confided to me _will be used to hold, occupy, and possess the
property and places belonging to the government_, and collect the duties
and imposts; but, beyond what may be necessary for these objects, there
will be no invasion, no using of force against or among the people
anywhere.
Where hostility to the United States shall be so great and so universal
as to prevent competent resident citizens from holding the Federal
offices, there will be no attempt to force obnoxious strangers among the
people for that object. While the strict legal right may exist of the
Government to enforce the exercise of these offices, the attempt to do
so would be so irritating, and so nearly impracticable withal, that I
deem it better to forego for the time the uses of such offices.
The mails, unless repelled, will continue to be furnished in all parts
of the Union.
So far as possible, the people everywhere shall have that sense of
perfect security which is most favorable to calm thought and reflection.
The course here indicated will be followed, unless current events and
experience shall show a modification or change to be proper; and in
every case and exigency my best discretion will be exercised according
to the circumstances actually existing, and with a view and hope of
a peaceful solution of the national troubles, and the restoration of
fraternal sympathies and affections.
That there are persons, in one section or another, who seek to destroy
the Union at all events, and are glad of any pretext to do it, I will
neither affirm nor deny. But, if there be such, I need address no word
to them.
To those, however, who really love the Union, may I not speak? Before
entering upon so grave a matter as the destruction of our national
fabric, with all its benefits, its memories, and its hopes, would it not
be well to ascertain why we do it? Will you hazard so desperate a step,
while any portion of the ills you fly from have no real existence? Will
you, while the certain ills you fly to are greater than all the real
ones you fly from? Will you risk the commission of so fearful a mistake?
All profess to be content in the Union if all constitutional rights can
be maintained. Is it true, then, that any right, plainly written in the
Constitution, has been denied? I think not. Happily the human mind is so
constituted, that no party can reach to the audacity of doing this.
Think, if you can, of a single instance in which a plainly written
provision of the Constitution has ever been denied. If, by the mere
force of numbers, a majority should deprive a minority of any clearly
written constitutional right, it might, in a moral point of view,
justify revolution: it certainly would, if such right were a vital one.
But such is not our case.
All the vital rights of minorities and of individuals are so plainly
assured to them by affirmations and negations, guaranties and
prohibitions, in the Constitution, that controversies never arise
concerning them. But no organic law can ever be framed with a provision
specifically applicable to every question which may occur in practical
administration. No foresight can anticipate, nor any document of
reasonable length contain, express provisions for all possible
questions. Shall fugitives from labor be surrendered by National or by
State authority? The Constitution does not expressly say. Must Congress
protect slavery in the Territories? The Constitution does not expressly
say. From questions of this class spring all our constitutional
controversies, and we divide upon them into majorities and minorities.
If the minority will not acquiesce, the majority must, or the government
must cease. There is no alternative for continuing the government but
acquiescence on the one side or the other. If a minority, in such a
case, will secede rather than acquiesce, they make a precedent which in
turn will ruin and divide them; for a minority of their own will secede
from them, whenever a majority refuses to be controlled by such a
minority. For instance, why not any portion of a new confederacy, a year
or two hence, arbitrarily secede again, precisely as portions of the
present Union now claim to secede from it? All who cherish disunion
sentiments are now being educated to the exact temper of doing this. Is
there such perfect identity of interests among the States to compose
a new Union as to produce harmony only, and prevent renewed secession?
Plainly, the central idea of secession is the essence of anarchy.
A majority held in restraint by constitutional check and limitation, and
always changing easily with deliberate changes of popular opinions and
sentiments, is the only true sovereign of a free people. Whoever rejects
it does, of necessity, fly to anarchy or to despotism. Unanimity is
impossible: the rule of a minority, as a permanent arrangement, is
wholly inadmissible; so that, rejecting the majority principle, anarchy
or despotism in some form is all that is left.
I do not forget the position assumed by some, that constitutional
questions are to be decided by the Supreme Court, nor do I deny that
such decisions must be binding in any case upon the parties to a suit,
as to the object of that suit; while they are also entitled to very high
respect and consideration in all parallel cases by all other departments
of the government; and, while it is obviously possible that such
decision may be erroneous in any given case, still, the evil effect
following it, being limited to that particular case, with the chance
that it may be overruled and never become a precedent for other cases,
can better be borne than could the evils of a different practice.
At the same time, the candid citizen must confess, that, if the policy
of the government upon the vital questions affecting the whole people
is to be irrevocably fixed by the decisions of the Supreme Court the
instant they are made, as in ordinary litigation between parties in
personal actions, the people will have ceased to be their own masters,
having to that extent practically resigned their government into the
hands of that eminent tribunal.
Nor is there in this view any assault upon the court or the judges.
It is a duty from which they may not shrink, to decide cases properly
brought before them; and it is no fault of theirs if others seek to
turn their decisions to political purposes. One section of our country
believes slavery is right and ought to be extended, while the other
believes it is wrong and ought not to be extended; and this is the only
substantial dispute: and the fugitive-slave clause of the Constitution,
and the law for the suppression of the foreign slave-trade, are each as
well enforced, perhaps, as any law can ever be in a community where the
moral sense of the people imperfectly supports the law itself. The great
body of the people abide by the dry, legal obligation in both cases, and
a few break over in each. This, I think, cannot be perfectly cured; and
it would be worse in both cases after the separation of the sections
than before. The foreign slave-trade, now imperfectly suppressed,
would be ultimately revived, without restriction, in one section;
while fugitive slaves, now only partially surrendered, would not be
surrendered at all by the other.
Physically speaking, we cannot separate: we cannot remove our respective
sections from each other, nor build an impassable wall between them. A
husband and wife may be divorced, and go out of the presence and beyond
the reach of each other; but the different parts of our country cannot
do this. They cannot but remain face to face; and intercourse, either
amicable or hostile, must continue between them. Is it possible, then,
to make that intercourse more advantageous or more satisfactory after
separation than before? Can aliens make treaties easier than friends can
make laws? Can treaties be more faithfully enforced between aliens than
laws can among friends? Suppose you go to war, you cannot fight always;
and when, after much loss on both sides, and no gain on either, you
cease fighting, the identical questions as to terms of intercourse are
again upon you.
This country, with its institutions, belongs to the people who inhabit
it. Whenever they shall grow weary of the existing government, they can
exercise their constitutional right of amending, or their revolutionary
right to dismember or overthrow it. I cannot be ignorant of the fact,
that many worthy and patriotic citizens are desirous of having the
national Constitution amended. While I make no recommendation of
amendment, I fully recognize the full authority of the people over the
whole subject, to be exercised in either of the modes prescribed in the
instrument itself; and I should, under existing circumstances, favor
rather than oppose a fair opportunity being afforded the people to act
upon it.
I will venture to add, that to me the convention mode seems preferable,
in that it allows amendments to originate with the people themselves,
instead of only permitting them to take or reject propositions
originated by others not especially chosen for the purpose, and which
might not be precisely such as they would wish either to accept or
refuse. I understand that a proposed amendment to the Constitution
(which amendment, however, I have not seen) has passed Congress, to
the effect that the Federal Government shall never interfere with the
domestic institutions of States, including that of persons held to
service. To avoid misconstruction of what I have said, I depart from my
purpose not to speak of particular amendments so far as to say, that,
holding such a provision to now be implied constitutional law, I have no
objection to its being made express and irrevocable.
The chief magistrate derives all his authority from the people, and they
have conferred none upon him to fix the terms for the separation of the
States. The people themselves, also, can do this if they choose; but the
Executive, as such, has nothing to do with it. His duty is to administer
the present government as it came to his hands, and to transmit it
unimpaired by him to his successor. Why should there not be a patient
confidence in the ultimate justice of the people? Is there any better
or equal hope in the world? In our present differences, is either party
without faith of being in the right? If the Almighty Ruler of nations,
with his eternal truth and justice, be on your side of the North, or on
yours of the South, that truth and that justice will surely prevail by
the judgment of this great tribunal,--the American people. By the frame
of the government under which we live, this same people have wisely
given their public servants but little power for mischief, and have with
equal wisdom provided for the return of that little to their own hands
at very short intervals. While the people retain their virtue and
vigilance, no administration, by any extreme wickedness or folly, can
very seriously injure the Government in the short space of four years.
My countrymen, one and all, think calmly and well upon this whole
subject. Nothing valuable can be lost by taking time.
If there be an object to hurry any of you, in hot haste, to a step which
you would never take deliberately, that object will be frustrated by
taking time; but no good object can be frustrated by it.
Such of you as are now dissatisfied still have the old Constitution
unimpaired, and, on the sensitive point, the laws of your own framing
under it; while the new administration will have no immediate power, if
it would, to change either.
If it were admitted that you who are dissatisfied hold the right side
in the dispute, there is still no single reason for precipitate action.
Intelligence, patriotism, Christianity, and a firm reliance on Him who
has never yet forsaken this favored land, are still competent to adjust,
in the best way, all our present difficulties.
In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow-countrymen, and not in mine, is
the momentous issue of civil war. The Government will not assail you.
You can have no conflict without being yourselves the aggressors. You
can have no oath registered in heaven to destroy the Government; while I
shall have the most solemn one to "preserve, protect, and defend" it.
I am loah to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be
enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds
of affection.
The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battle-field and
patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad
land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as
surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.
This address, so characteristic of its author, and so full of the
best qualities of Mr. Lincoln's nature, was well received by the
large audience which heard it. Having finished, Mr. Lincoln turned to
Chief-Justice Taney, who, with much apparent agitation and emotion,
administered to him the following oath:--
"I, Abraham Lincoln, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute
the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of
my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United
States."
The ceremony concluded, Mr. Lincoln, as President of the United States,
in charge of the Committee of Arrangements, was accompanied by Mr.
Buchanan back to the Senate- Chamber, and from there to the Executive
Mansion. Here Mr. Buchanan took leave of him, invoking upon his
administration a peaceful and happy result; and here for the present we
leave him. In another volume we shall endeavor to trace his career as
the nation's Chief Magistrate during the ensuing four years.
APPENDIX.
[Illustration: Facsimile of Autobiography1 588]
[Illustration: Facsimile of Autobiography2 590]
[Illustration: Facsimile of Autobiography3 592]
THE circumstances under which the original of the accompanying
_facsimile_ was written are explained in the following letter:--
National Hotel, Washington, D.C., Feb. 19, 1872. Colonel Ward H. Lamon.
Dear Sir,--In compliance with your request, I place in your hands a copy
of a manuscript in my possession written by Abraham Lincoln, giving
a brief account of his early history, and the commencement of that
political career which terminated in his election to the Presidency.
It may not be inappropriate to say, that some time preceding the writing
of the enclosed, finding, in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, a laudable
curiosity in the public mind to know more about the early history of
Mr. Lincoln, and looking, too, to the possibilities of his being
an available candidate for the Presidency in 1860, I had on several
occasions requested of him this information, and that it was not without
some hesitation he placed in my hands even this very modest account of
himself, which he did in the month of December, 1859.
To this were added, by myself, other facts bearing upon his legislative
and political history, and the whole forwarded to a friend residing
in my native county (Chester, Pa.),--the Hon. Joseph J. Lewis, former
Commissioner of Internal Revenue,--who made them the basis of an
ably-written and somewhat elaborate memoir of the late President, which
appeared in the Pennsylvania and other papers of the country in January,
1860, and which contributed to prepare the way for the subsequent
nomination at Chicago the following June.
Believing this brief and unpretending narrative, written by himself in
his own peculiar vein,--and injustice to him I should add, without
the remotest expectation of its ever appearing in public,--with the
attending circumstances, may be of interest to the numerous admirers of
that historic and truly great man, I place it at your disposal.
I am truly yours,
Jesse W. Fell.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Life Of Abraham Lincoln, by Ward H. Lamon